Chapter 12: Finally

"And now ... your ... Washington ... High ... Timberwolves!!!"

The voice boomed over the loudspeaker, announcing our imminent arrival on the field of battle. From the hall outside the locker room, I could hear the bass drums from the band methodically pounding out a low tribal rhythm I knew by heart.

I turned in the corridor to my teammates, dressed and ready for battle.

"Let's end this by half time, alright boys? I've got a hot date tomorrow, and I want to be well rested."

From somewhere in the back came a shout, "Hey, that's my sister you're talking about."

Everyone laughed at Brandon's response. I turned to Scott, who was right behind me. "Sure, now he gets offended." A moment later, the door opened, and we ran out to the field, flanked on both sides by two lines of cheerleaders. The crowd was cheering wildly, and as I looked around, I could see the stadium was absolutely jammed with people. Everyone turned out for homecoming, especially this year. The town had gotten wind that they might be witness to something special this year, and everyone seemed to want to share in it.

It doesn't always work out, but this year in our schedule, we'd managed to draw our district rivals, the Romeo Bulldogs, as our Homecoming Game opponent. They were a good school, and had had some success in the past, but this was proving to be a down year for them. I planned to maintain that trend.

The coin was flipped. It came up heads, and in winning the toss, we chose to receive. The team took our place on the sidelines as our return unit headed out to the field to take the opening kickoff, with Cruiser back deep. A booming kick later, and we were underway. Cruiser's return got us to the twenty-seven yard line. I grabbed my helmet and headed for the huddle. Again, the crowd cheered wildly, and the band played a little snippet that I knew they used just for me.

As the season progressed, Coach and been incorporating more and more plays into our playbook. He'd set it up so that while most of the blocking schemes stayed fairly rudimentary, my options at quarterback had expanded exponentially. In the past week, that had become even more true; the addition of Scott and Mike, and the move of Cruiser to a permanent slot receiver/tight end position meant there was a lot more stability in the offense.

Scott I knew I wouldn't have any issues with. At times it was like he was my right hand; he knew where I was going to throw the ball as soon as I did, and he made sure he was there to catch it.

Brad took to his slightly modified role like a duck to water. Once he learned he could hit people now in his blocking schemes as a tight end, he began to relish the contact. In addition, Brandon would be picking up considerably more yardage now, because we now had a viable option in that particular play area.

Mike, the new kid, he'd been an unknown to me on Monday. He was shy and quiet, and didn't feel real comfortable at first. I think more than anything he was intimidated by playing up a level, as well as getting thrown into what was increasingly considered a high power offense. Scott proved to be a big help in that area, and I made sure to include him as much as possible in my passing drills, and not favor throwing to Scott as I was instinctively wont to do. When we finally managed to coax him out of his self-imposed shell, he turned into a very efficient receiver, and a very viable number two option.

As I entered the huddle, and looked back at Coach for the call, I was pleased with the response. We'd worked most of the week on what Coach was calling his quick-strike offense. Akin in ways to a two minute drill, it was designed to be run no-huddle, and there were several sequences of plays that I could call one after another, as long as I looked over to Coach and got the "continue" sign.

My words to my huddle were short and to the point. "Shock and awe, alpha A. Let's do this." We broke the huddle and headed to the line of scrimmage.

Alpha A was designed to be the first play in the sequence, hence the name. It was a passing play designed to go deep. Not Hail Mary deep, but deep enough. Scott lined up left, Mike and Crusier right, with Brandon behind me. A snap, a seven step drop, and an absolute bullet to Scott netted us forty yards. I pumped my fist at my first official pass to my best friend. I looked over to the sideline, got the sign, and ran up towards the new spot of the ball.

"Beta A, Beta A," I shouted, and my team assembled right at the line in the proper formation. Beta A called for a running play, a sweep toss out to Brandon, with Brad driving the train. This time Scott lined up on the right, with Brando, Cruiser, and Mike to my left. The other team was caught pretty unaware, not being ready for a hurry up offense on the opening drive, and they were in complete disarray when I hiked the ball. The play worked beautifully, and Brandon picked up another fifteen yards.

Once more I got the sign. "Delta A, Delta A," I yelled, and my team again complied, like a well oiled machine. This time, Scott and Mike were to my left, with Brandon in the backfield and Cruiser to my right. Hiking the ball, while the opposing team was again scrambling, my left side receivers streaked down the field. At the twelve yard line Mike broke to the right, slanting back towards the center, and I hit him square in the numbers as he crossed the goal line unabated. Three plays, seventy three yards, and six points, in less than three minutes of game time. The Bulldogs didn't know what hit them.

I walked off the field as our kicking unit went on, and I headed over to where Coach was standing.

"Hey, that worked out ok," I said, smiling.

"That it did, Nick," he responded.

As I headed off to the water cooler to grab a quick refreshment, I noticed someone I hadn't seen before standing along the sidelines. As I moved away, he stepped forward to exchange a few words with the coach, but then moved back into what seemed to be an observational position. He was probably in his mid to late thirties, dressed mostly in black. There was some kind of logo on his jacket, but I couldn't tell exactly what it was from my distance. I forgot about him moments later though as the rest of my offensive weapons joined me by the cooler and we enjoyed our initial success.

I'm not exactly sure what the Bulldogs were expecting that night. Maybe they thought we'd be vulnerable; the news of Anthony's injury was common knowledge, especially with the local press we were starting to garner. Maybe they'd thought I'd fallen back to earth after two not-so-stellar games, regardless of the circumstances. What I do know for a fact is they were not expecting the complete and utter shellacking we handed out that night.

In 1926, Haven High School, a small school in central Kansas, set the all time record for margin of victory, beating Sylvia High 256-0. While we probably wouldn't be challenging that record tonight, as the scoreboard read 45-7 when we ran off the field at the half, that fact was a small consolation to the Bulldogs.

As I would learn after the game, halftime would turn out pretty good for my new circle of friends. The senior class float, which is what got me start on this crazy ride, came in first place. The prize money was just about enough to cover what we blew building it. I'm sure Kara was happy. Not quite as happy, I would imagine, as she was when she was crowned Homecoming Queen shortly thereafter. Apparently her breakup with Mark actually helped her cause, and she won by a fairly significant margin. I don't think Roxanne really expected to win; she had been pleasantly surprised to even be nominated.

When we came out for the second half, Coach took his foot off the gas. Marginally. With the constant threat of the long ball, though, Brandon put up career numbers, as our offense turned the Bulldogs defensive line into Swiss cheese. Every time the 'Dogs' pass rushers would start to close in on me, though, Coach would revert back to the quick strike, and we'd burn them for another touchdown. We spread the wealth around, and when we walked off the field, the scoreboard read 83-20. We'd broken Washington High's single game record for total touchdowns and most points scored, as well as margin of victory. To be honest, Wash High hadn't been around that long, but it was always nice to set records regardless. More importantly, to me, I again finished the game with no interceptions. I don't know where Mark Moore was tonight, but I'm sure that wasn't going to brighten his day any.

Hitting the locker room, Coach gave us his post game speech. For the first time, he allowed us to buy into our own hype a little bit, and began to talk about what we could accomplish, meaning a possible state championship. Coach wasn't one to put the cart before the horse too often, but I think he felt it was time for us to start believing in our own reputation. There are times you knock a player down to keep him grounded, and there are times you build them up. This was one of the latter. When we walked out into the cool night air, showered and shined up, we felt unstoppable.

Roxanne was waiting for me in the grassy area outside the door. Without saying a word, she just wrapped her arms around me and gave me a kiss that threatened to turn my legs to jelly. It lasted until Brandon exited the locker room, and yelled at us, "Hey, get a room you two."

We both laughed and broke up the public smooch.

"You were magnificent," she said, referring to my performance on the field. "So were you," I replied, referring to something else entirely. She immediately picked up on my meaning, and swatted me on the chest.

Brandon walked up and joined us, followed shortly thereafter by Scott, Mike, and Cruiser. "What's the plan?" Brandon asked.

"I think we should collect the crew, and go forth to celebrate our spectacular victory." I was speaking in grand, over-the-top tones.

When I woke up Saturday, the ringing in my ears and the pounding in my head reminded me that I got damn drunk last night. I sat up, and then winced. Too fast. When the stabbing sensation in my head subsided, I looked around. I was in my room, in my house. I was also still dressed. How the hell did I get here, I wondered, slowly padding my way upstairs. I drained some aspirin and a glass of water, then another glass. I looked at the clock, and it was after noon already.

"Shit," I said to myself. It was a big day, and I had a lot I needed to do. I walked up to the office and sat down behind large desk. Thumbing open the address rolodex, my fingers did the walking, searching out the card I needed. Once I found the number I was looking for, I punched the digits into the desktop phone. A moment later, a voice came through on the other side.

"Troy Exotics, how can I direct your call?"

"Jack Lazier, please," I responded. I waited a moment while the call was transferred.

"Jack Lazier," rumbled a new voice, when the line transferred over.

"Hi Mr. Lazier, this is Nick Capuzzo."

"Nick! How have you been? Your old man still overseas?"

"I'm good," I responded. Jack was always in a good mood, always fun to talk with. "Yeah, he's still there. He's in Italy now, and from the sounds of it I think he likes it too much to come home."

"I understand. Sometimes it's easier to just, well..." He paused for a moment, searching for the right phrase. "Sometimes a change of scenery is good for the soul. So, what can I do for my oldest friend's only son?"

I explained to him what I was looking for. I was calling in a favor, and it was a big one. I didn't know if it might be too big.

"Sounds like you want to make this a hell of a night for your lady."

"That's the plan, yes."

"Well, I think I can arrange what you're looking for. Just between us, of course. Can you pick it up yourself?"

"Sure can. I have one or two more phone calls to make, and then I'll head on over, if that's ok. I really appreciate this."

"Sure thing, Nick. I'll see you in a while then ... just be here before two."

We said our goodbyes and disconnected. The next call I made was to the bank, where I had them transfer some funds. I'd be spending a lot of money today, and I wanted to make sure there were no problems. After that was finished, I cleaned myself up and changed my clothes. By the time I left the house, the aspirin was kicking in, and I was feeling much better.

I rolled up to Roxanne's house around five o'clock, showered, shaven, and dressed in my best suit. I'd told Roxanne to pick out an appropriate tie while we were out shopping that week, so that it would at least not clash with her outfit. By that token, I knew she was wearing deep blue, and had been given a very vague description of her dress.

I rang the doorbell, and a moment or two later, Roxanne's mom opened the door to greet me.

"Hello, Nick," she said, with a smile. There was a hint of anxiousness behind it though, because I think she suspected the importance of this night in her only daughter's life. Women tell each other everything, or so I'd heard. She motioned me to the house. "You look very handsome tonight, I'm sure Roxanne will be pleased." She looked up the stairs for a moment, in the direction of her daughter's location. "Roxanne will be down in a minute."

There was an awkward silence for a moment before she continued. "I believe you care about my daughter very much," she said, quietly.

"Yes, ma'am," I replied, honestly.

"She is very much in love with you, Nicholas," she continued. This was about the most she'd ever said to me, and by far the most serious conversation we'd ever had. "We both know what she expects to happen tonight. I trust you will not disappoint her?"

"No ma'am," I replied. "I hope Roxanne will be very happy with my arrangements for tonight."

Mrs. Marshall stepped up to me, and fiddled with straightening my tie. "That's good to hear, Nick. She deserves to be happy." Before I could respond, I heard the sound of Roxanne's heels clicking down the staircase. Her mom and I returned to the foyer, just as she reached the bottom of the steps.

I paused while I drank in her appearance. Roxanne had her hair swept up, with a few choice curls spilling out, framing her face. Her makeup was expertly applied; slightly more than she normally wore, but it complemented her features exquisitely. Her dress was indeed a midnight blue; slinky, satiny, and shimmery. It was fairly unadorned, with straight lines, but it fell off of her curves magnificently and clung in the all right places, making me want to reach out and touch them. It was low cut, but not scandalously so, and two thin straps held it up, tied around the back of her neck. She had a wrap of the same material and color covering her bare shoulders.

"Hi," she said, simply, demurely, but with a hint of mischievousness.

"You look ... awesome." My normal loquaciousness utterly failed me, for possibly the first time ever.