Chapter 34: Saturday, Sept. 15

GAME DAY — THE BIG STAGE, EAGLES

I actually woke up about 20 minutes before the alarm went off, feeling rested for the first time in what seemed like forever. Maybe I could get away with having sex as long as I still got to sleep early enough.

Marie was cuddled up against my side, but began stirring before I did anything to rouse her.

“Good morning, Daddy,” she smiled drowsily. “Sleep well?”

“As good as I have all week,” I yawned. “Must have been because of the pretty girl in my arms.”

That earned me a little smooch despite my morning mouth, but it wasn’t the type to get anything started. I’d just have to wait until tonight, maybe tomorrow, to get my dick wet again.

“You should get a shower,” Marie said. “I’ve got to go get your shirt from the laundry.”

“Good idea,” I said. “I need to shave my legs, anyway.”

That drew a giggle from the little waif.

“Only halfway to the knee so they can tape my ankles without hair getting in the way,” I explained. “I learned the hard way you don’t want leg hair sticking to athletic tape.”

“I wondered about that,” she said with another giggle as she rubbed a leg against mine. “They do feel kinda stubbly.”

With another smooch, I rolled out of bed and made sure my alarm was turned off, then headed to the bathroom. I was showered and shaved by 7, going ahead and doing my face again just to make sure. I’d learned over the last month that the chinstrap on my helmet was a little less irritating if there was no stubble on my chin.

Marie had my clothes waiting when I returned to the front room and I dressed quickly in my blue team shirt, khakis and deck shoes. I made sure I had keys, phone, wallet and shades and prepared to depart. The backpack could stay here today.

I was almost out the door when Marie stopped me.

“You forgot your juice,” she said, handing me a glass of pineapple juice, which I gulped down faster than I probably should have. “You can at least have that.”

Marie was miffed that she wasn’t allowed to fix me a good breakfast. I was miffed that I would be given limited choices for the pregame meal. Coach Tucker wanted to make sure no one had any digestive problems until after the game, when we’d finally get to eat a real meal. As it was, we were going to be missing lunch while we played football.

I handed Marie the empty glass, giving her a pineapple-flavored kiss in the process, and headed out to my car. I was backing down the drive when my phone rang. I should have known Mom would be making sure I was up and moving.

Only it wasn’t Mom. It was Dad.

“Just checking,” he said when I answered the call.

“Pulling out right now,” I said. “I was almost to the street when you called. I should make it to the fieldhouse in 10-15 minutes depending on traffic.”

“What time is the team leaving?” he asked.

“Buses pull out at 9,” I said. “We should be at the stadium around 10. That’ll give us nearly two hours to get ready before we start pregame.”

“We’ll head out about 10,” Dad said. “Kacie has to be at school for the band bus by then and we’ll just drop her off and go. I think we’ll just eat lunch at the stadium.”

“Have a bite for me,” I said. “We won’t get to eat until probably 4 o’clock.”

“You can handle it,” he snarked. “Maybe y’all will play better if you’re hungry.”

“Maybe. See you after the game,” I said before disconnecting.

It was a little after 7:30 when I pulled into my parking spot at school. Several guys were already there and it looked like the entire coaching and support staffs were in the process of loading all the gear we’d need in equipment trailers.

I went into the locker room to pack my equipment bag before going to eat. We were wearing all blue for the first time today. Since the stadium was air-conditioned, heat shouldn’t be a problem. The guys who actually saw playing time were sure to get sweaty, though, and Coach had warned us that the temperature on the field would still be rather warm.

I packed my jersey and pants, compression shorts and UnderArmour top, then began organizing my pads, gloves and helmet, making sure to include the blue spirit rag. I still hadn’t worn the gloves while holding for kicks, but they did seem to help during receiving drills (having not caught a pass in a game yet, I still didn’t know if they were worth the trouble). I’d try them during the special teams segments next week and see how things went.

I was surprised to see two more stars on the back of my helmet. The only thing I could come up with was maybe one for getting the ball to Fabrice, however accidentally, on his touchdown run. I had no idea what the other one could have been for.

After getting everything packed and zipped up, I wandered across the hall to the team room for breakfast. The bulletin board in the hallway had the writeup from last week’s game with a photo of Fabrice making his spin move on the botched field goal, a feature on how the new starters on defense were fitting in and the preview of today’s game. I hadn’t taken time to read any of them during the week and didn’t have time to do so now. I needed to get what little food I was going to have for the next eight hours.

The team room was quickly filling up as more people arrived. There weren’t as many parents as we’d had the opening week, but I figured they were doing like my folks and heading out a little later. There had been some that ate with us yesterday after the pep rally, anyway.

The cheerleaders were also absent. They were departing about the same time as the band.

Our pregame meal consisted of breakfast burritos from Familia Benavidez, fruit and a variety of fruit juices. The burrito choices were ham or bacon. I would have preferred chorizo, but Coach Tucker didn’t want us to have anything that spicy. We weren’t even allowed any of Tia Connie’s salsa. At least we could get burritos with potatoes and cheese.

I went with bacon, potato and cheese, grabbing a couple of boxes of apple juice to go with it. Not that I was complaining, but milk wasn’t offered. Coach Tucker didn’t want to find out any of the starters were lactose intolerant after kickoff.

Several of our regular lunch group were seated together and they waved me over.

“You gonna eat all that?” Chuck Edwards asked as I took a seat across from him.

“You could at least wait for me to open the box,” I snorted.

It was actually a pretty good question. I opened my meal to find a burrito that was absolutely huge. The tortilla was at least 50 percent bigger than the ones Tia Connie had used at the pool snack bar during the summer. The damn thing was almost a foot long and as big around as my wrist. I wish my dick was that big.

“Here,” I said, taking the little plastic knife out of the cutlery pack and sawing off two or three inches from one end. “Don’t choke on it.”

“You gave me the wrong half,” Chuck pouted, quickly grabbing the food before any of our tablemates got any bright ideas.

I immediately took a bite of what I’d kept for myself, hoping my cooties would deter the others from coming after my share.

I felt the need to consume my fruit cup quickly. That didn’t keep Lloyd Daniels from spearing a chunk of pear on his fork when I sat the cup down to take another bite off the burrito.

“You line up closer to the tackles than the guards,” he grinned as he popped the fruit into his mouth. “You need to remember who your friends are.”

“I’m beginning to wonder,” I grumbled, strengthening my grip on the burrito.

We finished eating and chatted about what to expect today. Several guys went to make sure their bags were packed and Coach Tucker came through around 8:30 with Morgan trailing behind. She at least looked rested after our evening together.

Coach gave a blast on his whistle to get our attention. He didn’t seem too terribly affected by all the drama we’d had to deal with the last couple of days.

“Buses are here,” he said. “Start loading your gear when you finish eating. We pull out in 27 minutes.”

I joined the rest of my teammates in following his orders, again stashing my bag in the back bay of the offense bus, and climbed aboard. There were several band kids loading instruments into the semi-trailer they used, but their buses weren’t here yet and I didn’t see Kacie. Jed was already on our bus and waved for me to sit next to him.

“Dude, where’s the laptop?” he asked.

“Didn’t bring it,” I said as I settled in just in time for the bus to start rolling. “This trip’s not gonna be long enough to do any schoolwork, let alone watch a movie.”

“Bring it next time,” he ordered. “I’ve got the entire series box set of ‘Coach.’ We can watch at least an episode on district trips and get in a football frame of mind.”

I resisted the urge to tell my friend the old sitcom had very little actual football action. I had to admit it was funny, though. And even though our district road trips would only be about 25 or 30 miles, they would be through Friday rush-hour traffic in a major metro area. We’d probably be able to watch two episodes.

We made our way through town to the freeway and were soon cruising at or near the speed limit. The trip usually took about an hour under normal conditions and our caravan pulled up to our gate around 10, well before the crowd began arriving.

A contingent of stadium workers directed us through the tunnel to a surprisingly small dressing room. It looked barely big enough to hold us all. What passed for lockers were just big enough to hang our street clothes in. The shower room looked like it might hold a dozen guys, but they’d better not have issues with standing so close to other naked men. I’d probably wait until the crowd thinned a little to get my shower. If I even needed one.

There were supposed to be six identical dressing rooms ringing the field level, allowing the stadium to host tripleheaders during the playoffs. Quadrupleheaders were feasible because teams playing the first game would be long gone by the time teams playing the fourth game arrived, allowing for two rooms to pull double duty after a quick cleaning.

I was mildly surprised to learn that visiting college and pro teams were assigned to these same facilities. An NFL team with a 54-man roster would probably have plenty of space, but a college team suiting up 120 players would be pretty cramped. The best feature I saw was a number of dry erase boards on the walls, enabling teams to make halftime adjustments with just about every position group at once.

Of course, this was nothing like the digs the home NFL team enjoyed. That locker room was fancier than some of the houses in Arlene’s neighborhood — plush carpet, spacious shower room and lockers that would have made for nice dorm rooms at most colleges.

We were directed to our areas by platoon — defense to the left, offense to the right — and position group — quarterbacks, running backs, receivers and linemen from the far wall to the outside, while the defense went linemen, linebackers and secondary. Specialists were squeezed in wherever there was space. The plan seemed to be designed to keep all the big bodies from clogging up one end.

I changed into my compression shorts and game pants, making sure I had all my pads in, pulled on my UnderArmour top and tied the spirit rag on my head, then went out into the tunnel to get taped. The training staff had set up eight portable tables, which should get everyone taken care of fairly quickly. They were supposed to do the starters first, followed by the second string, specialists and everybody else.

I took Cody’s advice and went to the table he was manning, thankful it was on the opposite end from Stephanie Tucker and all the other girls. I didn’t need any more of that drama right now.

Cody taped up three guys before indicating he was ready for me.

“Did you find out what the deal was with the girls?” he asked quietly as he swathed my legs in prewrap.

“Yeah, but it’s too stupid to talk about out here,” I said just as quietly. “That would just stir up more shit. You can ask one of them if you want. I’d just say the wrong thing.”

I hopped off the table when Cody finished with me, thanking him for ensuring my feet would stay on, and headed back inside to finish dressing. Getting the jersey on over the shoulder pads again required a little assistance and I and other receivers helped each other. The shoulder pads made it rather difficult to put on the socks and cleats. I probably should have done that first.

With about 15 minutes to go before we were to take the field, I sat down and tried to relax. I still got a kick out of the guys who preened in front of the mirrors, wanting to look just right when we made our entrance. I guess I could understand their actions — we were going to be on a big stage, after all — but wrinkles and sweat stains would soon render their efforts wasted. All I was worried about was making sure my pants stayed up when we went out for a kick.

Eventually, a stadium worker stuck his head in and said it was time. I grabbed my helmet and gloves and followed my teammates to the tunnel to get in position for pregame. I was able to see much of the stadium from where I stood. Despite Coach Tucker’s warning, I was somewhat overwhelmed by the scene. It looked like the lower bowl was filling rapidly. My estimate was at least 20,000 fans — about twice what we’d normally draw — were already here and more were coming in.

What really got me was the lighting. This place was more than just a stadium. It was more like a TV studio built around a football field.

It was only a moment before we were told to line up behind the end zone with another stadium worker pointing the way like we couldn’t have found it on our own. Coach Tucker arrived followed by Morgan and her clipboard, ready to get this show on the road.

I took my place on the back row, shaking my arms and legs to start getting loose. I snuck a quick glance at the giant video screen, which showed the Eagles lining up behind the opposite end zone. A clock on the stadium wall above the concourse showed 11:44. When it ticked to 11:45, Coach Tucker gave a blip on his whistle and the front row with the captains went prancing out to a cheer from the home side of the stands.

The guys seemed determined to appear ... I don’t know ... somehow more as we lined up for calisthenics. The sounds were a little bit brighter, the movements crisper. It was as if my teammates were already competing with the Eagles, who filled the other half of the field, instead of getting loosened up.

Me, I was just trying not to do anything I wouldn’t want shown on the video screen.

When we broke up into position groups, the receivers just happened to be in front of the section where our band would sit. Actually, make that sections. Some 500 bodies plus instruments took up a lot of space. I tried to spot Kacie, but they all looked the same in full uniform.

I’m sure it was just my imagination that a shrill cheer went up every time I caught a pass from Coach Wilson. I was afraid to look just in case someone was waving a poster.

After the offense ran through some plays against the defense, Jeremy and Fabrice took turns kicking field goals. Coach Tucker apparently wanted to send a message when he let Jeremy try one from 55 yards that cleared the bar with plenty of room to spare. I got the feeling we would have backed up another five yards if the Eagles hadn’t been in the way.

We huddled around Coach after the last kick and prepared to head back to the dressing room for final instructions as officials from both schools lined up on the sidelines for the special presentation. Dr. Stirling was easy to pick out among our contingent, literally standing head and shoulders above everyone else.

The roar of the crowd was even louder as we jogged back toward the tunnel. This was definitely going to be a big-time production. I hoped our level of play would live up to the hype.

There was enough time before we had to return to the field that guys were able to get a drink, take a leak and make sure their uniforms still looked sharp.

Coach Tucker called us together to give us his instructions.

“They won the toss, so we’ll kick and defend the east goal,” he said. “Defense, be ready. The Eagles like to take a shot downfield right away.

“The main thing is to concentrate on your assignments, take it one snap at a time. Don’t worry about where we are or who we’re playing. Keep your focus on the field. Whatever happens, good or bad, forget about it and get ready for the next play. If everyone takes care of the little things, the big things will come together in the end.”

It was like I’d heard it all before.

The stadium worker who’d led us out for pregame returned to take us back out to the field. The mouth of the tunnel was now covered by our inflatable runthrough, cutting off our view of the stadium but not the noise. If anything, it sounded like the crowd was even bigger than when we’d left.

Marshawn gathered everyone around for one last word as we waited.

“This is our time!” the linebacker shouted. “Let’s show these chumps we belong here! They had their taste of glory last year. This is our chance to taste it! It’s time to make a statement to the Eagles, our district and the whole state! We need to announce our presence with authority! Let’s get after that ass!”

All of the players and several assistant coaches voiced agreement as we prepared to make our entrance, which was delayed a moment as the Eagles made theirs based on the crowd noise from that side of the stadium. Someone must have been following a script because the opening fanfare of our fight song sounded just before we were allowed to take the field.

Our team burst out of the tunnel as our fans tried to drown out the Eagles fans. Most of my teammates sprinted onto the turf. I jogged along at the back of the pack, trying to stay out of everyone’s way. All I needed to do was get trampled by my teammates. It would have been worse if a starter tweaked something running over me.

I found a relatively safe spot on the sideline near the kickers as our teammates lined up for the school songs. The captains went out and reenacted the coin toss, which the Eagles won again, and our band played the anthem.

Jeremy and the kickoff team huddled around Coach Ramirez, then our left-footed kicker boomed one through the end zone, setting the Eagles up at their own 25.

As we’d been warned, the Eagles went for it all on the first snap and damn near got it. The receiver on the far side simply blew past Dontrell Williams and the quarterback, who already had something like 70 DI offers, hit him in stride near the 40. The guy was running free down the sideline, but Danny Mathis was able to push him out of bounds at our 18 as the Eagles fans roared their approval.

The opening salvo seemed to wake up our defense, if not piss it off. Luke Riley and Marshawn stuffed a run for no gain on first down, Tyler Danby broke up a pass into the end zone on second down and Jerome Jackson and Darius Smallwood came dangerously close to getting a sack on third down before the quarterback threw it out of the back of the end zone.

The Eagles settled for a 35-yard field goal, which had to be considered a win for us after giving up a big play to start the game. Still, we were down 3-0 with 10:32 to go in the first quarter.

I don’t know if the Eagles kicker didn’t have the leg strength Jeremy had or if they were playing to make us return the kick all along, but Ronnell Meadows fielded the ball inside the 5-yard line and ran it out to the 27 before getting swarmed.

The offense took the field and Reggie Terrell stuck with the script, running zone read and hitting some quick passes to move us down the field. After nine plays, Calvin Hobbs got loose on a slant to get us inside the 20. Three plays later, Javon Marcus powered over the right side behind Hank Preston and Michael Chacon to put us ahead.

“That’s the way to compete!” Coach Bennett shouted as I trotted out with Fabrice and the rest of the PAT unit not already on the field for the extra point. Jed’s snap was on the money, I did my bit and Fabrice made our lead 7-3 with 3:47 on the scoreboard clock.

Things slowed down after that. Jeremy put another kickoff through the end zone and a holding call on second down forced the Eagles to punt. We couldn’t move, either, and punted back. Events repeated themselves over the next couple of possessions, but we picked up about 10 yards of field position thanks to Jeremy.

There were about eight minutes left in the second quarter when we caught the next break. The Eagles picked up a couple of first downs but our defense stepped up, forcing fourth-and-1 near midfield. The Eagles lined up in a trips set and everyone on our sideline was screaming “PASS!” before the snap. Trayvon Marcus had his man blanketed, batting the ball away and giving us possession.

On the next play, Marcell Powers got around the edge on a toss sweep and turned on the jets as our crowd erupted. He made it down inside the 25 before a linebacker chased him down. I was again amazed at the speed of these guys. I think Marshawn was the only one of our linebackers who could have caught Marcell from behind like that, but I wouldn’t want to bet on it.

We picked up another first down before Reggie hit Ronnell on a fade in the corner of the end zone for the touchdown. Jeremy’s kick made it 14-3 with 6:13 to go in the half and our crowd was going nuts.

The euphoria didn’t last long.

Fabrice’s kickoff was fielded at the 3 and the return man ran directly to a guy in the middle of the second line standing at the 15.

“STARBURST!” every coach on our sideline screamed as the two guys on the outside of the second line raced toward the fellow who now had the ball facing his own goal line. Even watching on the video board, I couldn’t tell who came out of the mass of bodies with the ball. Apparently, neither could anyone on our coverage unit as the Eagles ran it all the way back.

Just like that, it was 14-9.

“I have never seen them run that return,” I heard Coach Ramirez tell the kickoff unit as the teams lined up for the extra point, which was good. “You can bet we’ll be working on that next week!”

I was surprised by his next statement.

“HANDS TEAM!”

I made sure my chinstrap was buckled as we huddled with the special teams coach and the head coach.

“These guys have been known to pull a surprise onside after popping a big play like that,” Coach Tucker told us. “I want to make sure we have possession. This ought to influence them to kick deep.”

Before I could take the field, Coach Ramirez grabbed my arm.

“If they do go onside and the ball comes to you, just get on it and go down,” he instructed. “If they kick deep, try to get in front of somebody. We aren’t worried about getting a return. We need the ball!”

“Yes, sir, Coach,” I said before going out to take my spot in middle of the front line.

I did not have a good feeling about this as I looked over at the fellow across from me, the linebacker who’d chased down Marcell. If the kick came to me, I was going to get hammered by just about everyone in a white shirt and buried under several hundred pounds of football players. If they kicked deep, I was going to get trucked by this guy.

Coach Tucker’s strategy paid off as the Eagles went with a medium-deep pooch kick. Somebody behind me made a fair catch as the linebacker knocked me on my ass and our offense went out to start from our 22.

We made a first down and were nearing another when the next bit of bad luck struck. Javon burrowed into the line for few yards, but Jed remained on the turf reaching for his right foot after the pile cleared.

The referee signaled for an official timeout as a hush fell over the crowd. Doc and Trapper raced onto the field to tend to my friend, followed by several student trainers with water bottles for our team and the zebras.

“Gibson, get in there!” Coach Bennett called.

Wes Gibson, a sophomore who was Jed’s backup, had a stricken look on his face.

“Hey, it’s not like you’ve never been in a game before,” Coach Bennett told him. “We wouldn’t have you on varsity if we didn’t think you were capable of handling it. Just concentrate on doing your job, just like you’ve done the last two weeks when you’ve gone in.”

Wes nodded and went out to join the huddle as the trainers helped Jed off to a smattering of polite applause.

Working in Wes’ favor was the Eagles playing a 4-3. His blocking assignment was to pick up the middle linebacker or to double one of the defensive tackles with a guard if the linebacker stayed back.

I don’t know how bad the kid’s jitters were, but he didn’t blow the snap count and his first snap was on target. The drive continued as we picked up a first down.

While all that was going on, I grabbed Travis Murtaugh and found some empty space behind the bench to practice deep snaps. Travis didn’t have Jed’s velocity, but he was accurate enough that I could quickly get the ball on the tee.

The drive reached the Eagles’ 28 before stalling with about three minutes left in the half. Reggie’s third-down pass for Alex Dewerson, one of the backup wide receivers who’d rotated in, fell incomplete. It looked like the defender got there a little early to break it up, but there were no flags. Another one of those 50-50 calls the Eagles always seemed to get.

“Field goal team!” the coaches shouted.

I made sure we had 11 bodies on the field as Jeremy lined up for a 46-yarder from the left hash. I like to think him being a lefty had something to do with what happened. It might not have made any difference if Fabrice had been kicking, but we’ll never know.

Travis’ snap was a bit high, but I was able to reach it without getting out of my stance. The problem was I bobbled the ball slightly as I tried to guide it into place with my left hand.

The disruption was just enough that the laces faced Jeremy and the ball was leaning to the right. I couldn’t get it straight before he made contact. I could only watch as the kick sliced like one of my golf shots — well, maybe not that badly; more of a fade, really — and sailed just wide of the left upright. It was our first missed kick of the season. I don’t know that we’d even missed one in practice.

“That one’s on me,” I said as we trudged back to the sideline.

“Nah, I should have been over there working with you and Travis,” Jeremy replied. “The timing was just different enough to throw me off.”

Coach Ramirez, of course, wanted to know what went wrong. I explained my part, taking responsibility for not calling for a fire drill when I mishandled the ball. Jeremy gave his input. Even Travis took part of the blame, saying he tried to get a little extra zip on the ball instead of making sure the snap went where it was supposed to. It seemed we were all partially at fault.

The defense had our backs, though, forcing the Eagles to punt again after giving up one first down. With a little under a minute left in the half and us getting the ball, Coach Tucker ordered Reggie to kneel on it and we headed to the dressing room with a 14-10 lead.

After everyone hit the head and got a drink, we broke up into position groups. I didn’t have much to do with the receivers, but Coach Wilson told me to be ready if we wound up in a short-yardage situation. The special teams rehashed what went wrong on the kickoff return for a touchdown and the missed field goal. Coach Ramirez seemed to be channeling Coach Tucker when he reminded us that our most important play was the next one.

I took the opportunity to check on Jed, who had his foot wrapped in an ACE bandage holding an ice pack and propped on a chair. A pair of crutches leaned against the wall next to him.

“How’re you doing?” I asked my buddy.

“I’ll live,” he moaned. “Sprained the arch again, but not as bad as when Holly Moseley stomped on it. Somebody stepped on me. I don’t know if it was one of ours or one of theirs, but they sure weighed more than Holly.”

“Just keep it iced and elevated,” Doc said when he stopped by to check. “You’re done for the day. Stay off it as much as possible and we’ll get you in a boot after the game. We’ll have treatment tomorrow afternoon. I’ll see about getting arch supports you can put in your shoes.”

“That sucks,” Jed said as the trainer went off to check on other bumps and bruises. “I was really looking forward to playin’ today. There’s supposed to be a lot of college scouts here.”

I realized that we’d been extremely lucky where injuries were concerned so far this season. Other than cramps and a few sprains and strained muscles, Jed’s situation was the only real injury we’d encountered. I’d heard that one of our district opponents had already lost three starters for the year, two in one game.

Coach Tucker whistled us up before we returned to the field.

“You’ve done a good job so far, now you have to finish strong,” he said. “This is where your conditioning is really going to be important. Don’t make sloppy mistakes because you’re tired. If you need a blow, tell us. We’ll get a fresh body out there. You backups be ready. We’ve already seen that you might be needed at any time.”