Chapter 50

Our game with Stratford was scheduled to start at 4:00 so we’d get back to Masonville before too late on a school night. The trip would take us two hours each way and at 1:00 we were on our way to board the buses.

How they kept it a secret, none of us team members knew, but there were seven buses lined up behind the team bus with ‘Masonville Mavericks’ painted in bright red on the sides.

The bus behind ours was the Masonville Mavericks’ Junior Band.

The other six buses had signs painted on them too. This was our pep squad.

The entire seventh and eighth grades were let out early and we were told that every kid in both classes was on those buses along with their teachers. The ride was free and so were the tickets, furnished by the local sponsors.

This was big! Never had the entire class been let out to travel to an away game. Now, both seventh and eighth classes were loading. They were cheering as we trotted out to board our bus.

When the buses circled out of the school grounds, we looked back to see the sides of each bus with kids waving out the windows.

‘The Dalton Gang — Hail, Hail The Gang’s All Here’ was painted on the band bus behind us. The next one had a sign painted on it ‘Stampede Those Cowboys.’

The next one made us all laugh as we looked back to read the signs.

‘Masonville Mavericks — No. 1 Team in Texas — And That Ain’t No Bull!’

When we entered the four-lane from the on ramp, there were two Mason County Sheriff’s vehicles in front of us and two more behind us, all four with lights flashing. When we were lined out on the highway in our eight-bus caravan, two Texas Highway Patrol cars raced past to take the lead with lights flashing and sirens screaming.

Coach Clark was standing in the aisle at the front of the bus with the intercom mic in his hand. He clicked the mic button twice and the sound popped loud throughout the bus.

“Okay Guys. Now you see how much this team and this game means to our school, to the students and to the town of Masonville. The last count we had, in excess of five hundred Masonville supporters are expected at the game today.

“WMAV will be there broadcasting live before we arrive. They were the ones who put this together, with the help of the mayor’s office and the county judge’s office.

“Don’t let all of this go to your heads though, just play like winners and we’ll all make the trip home even happier than we are now,” he told us and it was our turn to cheer.

Upon arrival, our team bus was directed into a driveway that led us to the backside of the visitor’s dressing room. The other buses were directed into a visitor’s parking area where there appeared to be over a hundred cars, pickups and vans already parked.

We were forty-five minutes early and as soon as we had our pants, cleats and team tee shirts on, we were led out of the tunnel beneath the visitor’s stands to stretch our legs and warm up before we put our pads on.

As we ran onto the field, the roar of the crowd was deafening — almost as loud as game day back in Masonville. I turned around when the others did and the bleachers were close to capacity with more people filing in all the time.

“Dalton, this is the biggest game we’ve played yet. Are you ready for some football?” Ben said as he and I jogged backward for about thirty yards before sprinting toward midfield.

“I’m as ready for this game as any we’ve played. This is supposed to be our biggest test to date and I’m ready to see just how good we can be.”

“Dalton, six weeks ago you had never even carried a football. Now you’re the talk of Texas. You have a long way to go, but it’s going to take more than these wannabe cowboys to test you!”

“Ben, you’re talking some shit now. I know I can pile up some yards when our guys block and I know I’m fast too, but you’re trying to make me sound like some kind of superstar!”

“You are, Dalton! You can prove to the world that I’m right too, right here on this field against what is supposed to be the best all-around team we’ll play this year.

“Run over them, run around them and run through them. Show the Cowboys, the sportswriters, the people back home and the State of Texas just how good you can be when you make a commitment to be the best. Give the fans a preview of what’s to be expected from No. 22 from this day until we graduate four years from now.

“I’m willing to bet you right now that you’ll be on the cover of The Dallas Morning News Sports Section this weekend — if not on the front page!”

“What made you think of something like that?”

“Look over there on our sidelines.”

I looked over to see two photographers snapping photos with their long lenses aimed right at us.

“Enough of this hype, let’s go get our pads on. I’m ready for some football!” I told him and we slapped hands.

“Listen up, men. I want to confirm a rumor that’s been going around the whole State of Texas for the past few weeks. Rumor has it that the Masonville Maverick eighth grade football team is the best there is and the best there ever was. I want to tell you now, this is no longer a rumor. I know this to be a fact because I coach that team.

“There’s nothing we can do now to surprise our opponents. They’ve seen all our film and they’ve scouted us like we’re seniors headed for the playoffs. BUT, there is one thing we can do that no one else can do, and that is play like a Maverick on each and every down of this game and for the rest of the season.

“Stratford would go undefeated this year if they didn’t have us on their schedule.

“They are that good and have been that good for years. Their JV and varsity teams are always in the state playoffs and they’ll be there again this year. What no one on this earth knows except for the coaches and players in this room is that we have taken over the No. 1 spot in football in the State of Texas!

“Don’t go out there and play for your coaches today. Play for each other, for your school, your fans, your families and your PRIDE at being No. 1.

“Oh, one other thing I wanted to mention. I’m damn sick and tired of that sissy little song about Git Along Little Dogie and I hope you men put an end to that little ditty forever out there today!”

Coach Miller was fired up but he was smiling — something he never does before a game when he gives his pre-game talk. Just the mention of the song we’ve listened to over and over for the past week was enough to fire us up too.

When Coach Miller had finished, Coach Clark held his hand up and stepped out in front of the team. He bowed his head and we did too, in a moment of silent prayer.

Coach Miller stood ready to open the double doors and as he looked us over, he bellowed, “Dalton! You’re the captain of this team as of today. This is your team, now lead your team out of the tunnel and lead the co-captains out on the field for the coin toss.”

“Remember this, Dalton. A good leader will lead his team to victory and never settle for less.

“Now let’s go play some football, men!”

When we burst out of the tunnel, our band’s entire brass section started playing Charge.

I ran straight for the center of the field on the fifty yard line where I stopped and the team huddled around.

“Okay guys, this is what we talked about when we made our commitments to each other, and this is our chance to show Masonville, Stratford, and the rest of Texas just how good we can be. Take a deep breath, then each of you get ready to play like you’re the only Maverick standing, until they blow the last whistle.

‘Whoopee ti yi yo ... git along little dogies... ‘ I sang to them, then broke for the sidelines with a herd of Mavericks hot on my tail.

The Stratford band was playing their alma mater and I knew the National Anthem was next. I stood with the team near our bench as we looked up into the stands and waved to everyone.

I saw Mom and Dusty, then Bonnie, Billie, Molly, Yo and Jacqi as they waved. Sitting behind them were Brandy, Emily and Tara. Tara was sitting next to Shaun’s parents. Priscilla and Ms. Kellisen were sitting on the row in front of them next to Ben’s parents. We waved and they stood and cheered when they saw us.

During the National Anthem, I felt a calm come over me like I had never felt before. I had always been nervous, with my belly doing flip-flops before a game.

When the band stopped playing, the referees walked to midfield and I trotted out with Ben and the other three co-captains.

The lump in my throat had yet to pop up and I still felt like I was calmer than ever.

We won the toss and I told them we’d receive. When the coin toss was called and the referees let the crowd know we were going to receive, our fans roared to their feet cheering, and they were still standing when we took the field for the kickoff.

“Take it all the way, Dalton,” Ben told me as he and I settled in five yards deep in the end zone.

The whistle blew and the ball was in the air. It came sailing right to me and I stepped up to take it on the run at the goal line. Ben and Toro were just ahead of me, picking out their blocks as I looked up field ahead of them. They were coming at me from all directions, scattered out like a soccer team as I ran easily on Ben’s heels. I saw him make a cut for the nearest player just as he waved me to his left behind Toro.

When Toro hit the next man, I made my cut toward the far sideline and ran across the field against the grain as fast as I could. The two deep men were coming at me with pretty good angles and I knew I could make one of them miss. I’d have to try and outrun the other one.

I felt a hand brush my jersey from behind and kicked hard to leave that one in the dust. One of the two remaining players had reached the sidelines ahead of me and I cut back toward the middle, running directly at the last one. Just as he slowed and spread his arms and legs for the hit, I cut hard to my right and he fell short as he reached out to grab for me when I ran past.

When I handed the ball to the referee, he and I were the only ones even near the end zone.

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Kid. I’ll say one thing, you’re all they said you were — and more,” the ref told me.

The roar of the crowd was like endless thunder. It suddenly occurred to me that I could hear the noise like never before during a game.

Ben was the first to reach me and we slapped hands just as Toro and the entire return team stormed the goal line where we stood. We had learned our lesson about excessive celebrations on the field, and the guys lined up as I ran past and slapped hands on the way to our bench.

“Way to go, Dalton. That’ll give them something to worry about!” Coach Clark hollered as I ran up to him.

“Dalton, you’re getting good at this! That was one of your best efforts,” Coach Miller yelled above the roar of the crowd.

Coach Clark and Coach Miller may never know it, but those two statements of praise made me want to play even harder.

I was standing near Coach Miller when he gathered our team for the kickoff, “Be ready men, they’ll try for the same thing Dalton just did. Stop them, then keep them from scoring on their first possession. Show them we’re for real and don’t you dare let up!”

LaRussa’s kick sailed high and deep, forcing the receiver to call for a fair catch at their ten-yard line.

Our fans went wild with another roar as they stood and cheered.

Their quarterback lined up in the shotgun as he barked the signals. As the play clock counted down, he ran up to take the ball from under center. He faked a hand-off to his halfback on the left side of the line and nearly lost the football when the runner was hit immediately, knocking him backward.

The quarterback rolled to his left to set up the screen pass to his tight end. Just as the receiver reached up to grab the ball, our outside linebacker, James Bateman tipped it high into the air and it sailed back over behind him.

Jimi Gonzales, our free safety ran under the ball and raced untouched into the end zone.

The Stratford fans stood in shock as our fans stomped and yelled long after we had made the extra point.

Coach Clark grabbed LaRussa by his jersey and yelled, “Kick it high and deep just like before. They’re going to try and get their running game going to settle their team down some. Pin them back against the goal line!” he shouted above the noise as he leaned close to LaRussa.

LaRussa made it look easy as the receiver called for a fair catch again, this time on their six-yard line.

Coach Clark’s guess about them was correct. Their first play was off right tackle where our guys stuffed the runner for no gain. On second down, they tried our left side and gained two yards.

On third and eight, the quarterback called a delay up the middle. The hole was there but their halfback was slow shooting the gap. He was hit after a three-yard gain and it was fourth down.

“Be ready for a short kick, men. They’re not going to let Dalton touch the ball on this punt.” Coach Clark yelled to us before we ran onto the field.

Once again he guessed right and one of our up guys called for a fair catch at our thirty-yard line.

“Make ‘em bleed, Dalton!” Toro said as Ben called for me to run off right tackle behind him and Rhino.

I hit the line a split second after Toro’s lead block and ran for eight yards before they tripped me up.

“Ben, my guy is jumpy as hell. Send Dalton my way!” Riggler said as we huddled.

“If he’s that jumpy, I’ll give him a hard count and pull him offside. That’ll make him and the rest of the line even more jumpy...

“Lock ‘em down, men. Harlan is NOT going to snap the ball until the last second, no matter what I call!” Ben told us.

Ben was getting good at his hard counts. Riggler’s man jumped into the neutral zone and so did the defensive end on that side. We had our first down and they were already fussing at each other.

We lined up quickly and as soon as the ball was placed and the ref blew the whistle, Ben was under center and Harlan snapped the ball on a quick count.

Ben faked a hand-off to Toro on the right side, whirled and pitched back to me. Their middle linebacker took the bait and left his assignment to hit Toro. I hit the left side of the line just as Riggler steamrolled his man. There was nothing but green grass, chalk lines and their safety between me and the goal line. I hit the sidelines and ran right past their safety untouched for a sixty-two yard touchdown.

After the extra point, we were up twenty-one to nothing with just over nine minutes left in the first quarter. Coach Miller and Coach Clark called the entire team into a huddle before we kicked off.

“Listen to me, men. If there’s just one of you who even thinks about letting up on this team, I’ll make all of you run every step of the way back home! Not get your butts out there and show Texas and the world what the Masonville Mavericks are all about!” Coach Miller yelled above the crowd noise.

LaRussa’s kick sailed high and deep, forcing their receiver to call for another fair catch with two of our coverage men standing next to him.

They hit on a screen pass to the left for four yards, then stalled on third and seven after losing a yard on second down.

Coach Clark sent Toro and me out to receive the punt. He was strapping a new wristband on Ben’s arm before we went back on offense and I knew what was coming.

We were going to our no huddle, uptempo offense for the remainder of the first half.

Toro was up and I was deep. We knew they weren’t going to kick it to me, and Toro told me to be ready for a reverse if he got the ball and it looked like there was a lane opening up.

Sure enough, when Toro received the kick, their coverage team swarmed after him. He reversed field and pitched back to me as I cut across in the opposite direction. There were three men in front of me and they ran me out of bounds on their forty-one yard line.

When the ref had the ball set and blew the whistle, Ben was already under center barking the play. This was my favorite play. The sweep around right end with Toro, the two pulling guards and the tight end leading the way.

They stopped me on the thirty for an eleven-yard gain and we were on the line before they could get set. Ben called a draw play up the middle, with a fake hand-off to Toro that suckered the middle linebacker again. I thought sure I was going to score, but they tripped me up at the three.

Again we were on the line as soon as the ref set the ball. I took the hand-off and followed Rhino and Toro off tackle on a dive into the end zone.

On the kickoff, LaRussa got a standing ovation from our crowd when once again he pinned the return guy back on his twelve-yard line with a fair catch. From there, it’s too risky to let it bounce and LaRussa’s hang-time had our guys looking the receiver in the eye when the ball came down.

They went three and out on this possession, and had yet to make a first down.

When they punted, I was playing up and Toro was back. Evidently their punter didn’t notice that we’d switched because he kicked it right to me. I hit the sidelines and ran for thirty yards before I was shoved out of bounds. Just as I had gained my balance, another player bumped shoulder pads with me and knocked me into our team bench.

They got hit with a fifteen-yard penalty for a unsportsmanlike conduct and their coach could be heard all the way over on our sidelines above the boos.

“We’re going to run it down their throats, Dalton,” Ben said as he and I stood watching the ref step off the penalty.

We ran the ball the entire second quarter with Toro carrying the ball only two plays. At halftime we were up 42 to zip and Ben told me I already had over two hundred and fifty yards rushing.

The Stratford Cowboys had yet to make a first down and had only managed twenty eight yards of total offense in the first half.

While we were broken out into our groups at halftime, Coach Miller called Coach Clark over to the door of the locker room where two men stood looking in. I recognized one of them as the announcer for WMAV who had interviewed Ben, Toro and me after the game once. He was laughing and pointing our way as our coaches also looked back at us.