Chapter 7: Buckle Yer' Seat Belts

As I walked out of the barn, I'd just heard one of the girls, I don't know who, shriek out something like, "Oh my God!" I climbed into the truck and took off before finding out the details.

There were many things in this life for which I possessed a supreme confidence about. Taking a proactive track in dealing with the opposite sex was not one of them. Granted, I've been known to flirt, but that was harmless banter with girls I knew, like Sandra, but that was about the extent of it, and while I didn't know the ins and outs of dating in high school's upper crust, I was pretty sure there was some significance attached to what I'd just done. Hopefully my panicked freak-out and cowardly escape directly thereafter had been conveniently overlooked.

Fifteen minutes later I pulled into the driveway of my house. I took my bags into the house, put my stuff away, and hopped in the shower. As I sat under the steaming water, I reflected on what I'd just done. Roxanne probably thinks I'm a lunatic. First I tell her I love, and sleep, with my ex, but I'm not really sleeping with her, and then I basically announce my interest in her in the most public way possible. I could feel my nerves starting to unravel just thinking about it.

I needed to sleep. I needed to get rest, and clear my head. I popped some Tylenol, set the alarm, and crawled into my bed. I had a feeling tomorrow was going to be a long day, in more ways that one.

Friday. Game day.

I awoke with the alarm, and rolled out of bed to get ready. I pulled on two layers of t-shirts, and then slid the new jersey over my head. It was customary for the football team to wear their jerseys on game day. I looked in the mirror, and almost didn't recognize myself. I looked like a football player, not the kid that up until four days ago was going to spend tonight in a 10-year-old wool band uniform.

Sometimes clothes do make the man.

Twenty minutes later, I walked into the school and up to my locker. Rumors and hearsay were one thing; it was entirely different for the student body to see me walk through the halls in team colors.

I was standing at my locker, getting my books ready, when Brandon slammed his body to a stop at the locker next to mine.

"Dude, what did you do to my sister?" he asked. There was no threat in his voice, so whatever I did, it didn't sound like he was pissed about it.

"What do you mean?" I asked, hoping for a little clarification.

"She came home last night with this dumb grin on her face, but wouldn't let on what was going on." He said. "She was driving mom nuts. Mom asked her, 'Is this about a boy?', and she just giggled and ran up to her room. Then she tied the phone up for two hours. She's been all ga-ga for you like, all week, so I figured you had something to do with it."

I was about to answer him when I saw his gaze shift past me, and he just said, "Oh. Yeah, that would do it I guess."

I was about to respond with something brilliant, like, "Huh?" but instead I just turned around to see what he was talking about.

When I woke up this morning, I thought I was prepared for just about anything. I was wrong.

You know how in those made-for-teen movies, there's always the grand entrance scene, where everything goes into super-slow motion as the main characters walk through the hall or something like that? As it turns out, that happens in real life, given the proper circumstances. So it was as I stood outside my locker, and watched Roxanne walk towards me.

She was wearing the jersey, all right; all white, with my name and Dad's number in forest green. She had taken the bottom hem and pulled it tight into a clip to cut down the looseness of it. In her hair she wore a large white hair band, her big auburn curls falling from behind it. She was walking with what I could only describe as a cross between a bounce and a strut, hips and arms swinging. She looked fantastic.

The crowds of kids parted around her as she made her way to me. Apparently this was today's big news. And if Rox walking around in a, no, my jersey didn't make news, what happened next would. When she finally reached me, she didn't say a word. She just reached up with both hands, gently held the sides of my head to pull me down, and planted a kiss on my lips that seared the whole scene into my brain for eternity. It was sweet and soft and over almost as soon as it started. To an unfamiliar observer, it would have looked like any other old romantic gesture between two teenagers. To the Wash High gossip circuit it was like a nuclear bomb went off. When she broke the kiss Roxanne turned to her brother, said "Hey, Brando," and like that, she was gone, bouncing and gliding off down the hallway as the crowd erupted into conversation.

I stood there, shell shocked. I didn't even look at him when I said to Brandon, "Did that just happen?"

He replied, "Dude, I was just about to ask you the same thing."

"OK."

"Yeah."

A few moments later, Brandon smacked me on the arm to announce his departure, which seemed to be his normal greeting and farewell, and I shook myself back to reality and headed to class.

After the events of the morning, the rest of the day was subdued. I didn't even see Roxanne for the rest of the day. More than a few people asked me about it, and I dodged their questions as best I could. By the end of the day, though, I was ready to get out of there. Lex had been right; I hated being the center of attention. Worse yet, I knew it was just the beginning. I didn't even eat lunch in the lunchroom. I managed to sneak my way into the empty band room, and ended up eating by myself in relative peace.

Lexi finally caught up to me when the final bell rung. I was standing there collecting my things when she walked up, looking like the cat that ate the canary. I closed the locker door and turned to her.

"I suppose I should say thanks." I said, "For cleaning up the mess I made last night."

"I suppose I should accept them." She replied. "She called me as soon as she got home."

"I didn't realize you two were that friendly. She your new best friend?"

"Don't you think I need one?"

She had me there. She did need a friend. "Touché."

"Anyhow, I explained to her things she needed explained to her." Lexi said. "I think everything's going just splendidly." There's that grin again.

"Splendidly?" I asked, "You're enjoying this an awful lot."

"Think of it this way," she said, "If I can fix you up with a working relationship with a nice, normal girl, maybe there's hope for me, too." She patted me on the chest. "Do good, play hard, don't get killed. Lots more people watching this time."

"Thanks." I said. "You're a mountain of support." By then she was already walking away down the hall, and she just waved.

A short while later, as we all stood in the locker room waiting to take the field, Coach came in to give his pep talk. He stepped into the center of the room, and everyone stopped what they were doing and gathered round.

"Gentlemen," he began. "The dictionary defines teamwork as the coordinated effort of a group of persons acting towards a common goal. Our common goal is simple. Defeat. Our. Opponent. They are the reigning state champions, and will conduct themselves accordingly, because they have already learned the definition of teamwork."

"Vince Lombardi said, 'People who work together will win.' Not may win. Will win. Look around you, right now. Everyone in this room is your teammate. We are united in our common goal, and only by working together will we achieve that goal. Ignore it at your peril. The road to the state championship goes through Stevenson. What we do in November depends greatly on what you do tonight. Remember that."

"That is all. Take the field men."

Coach walked out of the room towards the door to the field. Moments later, we grabbed our helmets and followed.

Seeing the packed house of Winston Field from the field level was nothing new, as I'd seen it many a time marching during the halftime shows. But taking the field as part of the main attraction, it suddenly took on a new life. Now they were cheering for us, and for me, though maybe they didn't quite know that second part yet.

We took to the sidelines, and Mark, Brandon, and Cruiser went out to meet the other team captains mid field for the coin toss. One flip later, and we'd be receiving the opening kickoff. Special teams took to the field, and Crusier, who also returned kicks for the team, took up his position at the 5 yard line. The Titans' kicker drilled the ball the length of the field into Cruiser's awaiting arms, and the game was underway. Our guys streaked forward, colliding with the defenders around the twenty-five. Cruiser managed to dodge two of the onrushing tacklers, and fought his way with speed and guile to the Titan's forty yard line; excellent field position to start from. Mark put his helmet on and began to trot out onto the field, but not before making sure to smirk my way.

Enjoy it while you can, I thought to myself.

First and ten at the Titans' forty. Mark handed off to Brandon, who cut through a hole in the line and picked up six yards. On second down, Mark dropped back to pass, and hit Cruiser in the slot for a five yard gain and a first down. They moved the chains.

First down, now at the twenty-nine. An outside handoff to Brandon was called, but he got stuffed at the line. On second down, they went to Brandon again, who cut right up the middle, but managed to get only three yards. Third and long, Mark would have to throw.

When the ball was snapped, Mark did a three step drop. Anthony had gone deep ... well, deep for the normal playbook anyway. It looked like it would be about a fifteen to twenty yard pass. Cruiser had run straight out about seven yards to get past the first down marker, but then cut back to the middle of the field in a crossing route. Anthony was open, he had beaten his defender, but instead, Mark threw towards the on-the-run Crusier. The Titans were ready for it. Little did we know, they'd trained all week to be ready for it. Mark's pass was picked off in the flat, while the ball was still a good five yards from Cruiser. The intercepting Titan was tackled shortly thereafter, but that was it. Our offense came off the field as the defense trotted on.

Out defense was pretty good. Four plays later, Crusier was back on the five yard line, awaiting the punt. This time they were ready for him though, and our offense would be starting at our own twenty seven yard line.

Mark started to put his helmet on and trot out to the field with the offense, but was stopped by Coach.

"Moore!" he shouted. Mark stopped and turned. "Back on the line. Capuzzo's gonna run this series." Mark stood and looked at him for a second. It looked as though he was going to argue, but then just shuffled back to the sideline.

I put my helmet on, and ran over to the coach. Coach gave me the play and I headed out onto the field. From behind me, a little chill went through me when I heard the loudspeaker announce, "Checking in at quarterback for the Wolves, number five, Nick Capuzzo." It was followed by polite applause, like the crowd didn't know whether to applaud or not. The band however, exploded. It helped that they made up about a quarter of the audience. I grinned under my helmet at that.

When I joined the huddle, I sensed the other guys were not expecting to see me so soon. I needed to make an impression, and make it quick. This was my team now, and they needed to know that. I sucked up all the ego I could muster and let them have it.

"OK, listen good, cause I'm only going to say this once." I looked at everyone in the huddle, eye to eye. "Anything that happened this week is in the past. What matters is now; this moment forward. I didn't come here to play a few games and go home. I plan to be playing for a state championship in two months, and I expect all of you to man up and help me get there. I believe in each one of you and your ability to do your job. Believe in me to do mine. I-Right. Thirty Two. Blast. Let's make a hole. Break!" I smacked my hands together and we broke the huddle.

The call was a running play, a right handoff to Brandon. I got behind under center, called out the snap, and hiked the ball. The hand off went smoothly. The offensive line held. Brandon dove forwards and picked up six yards.

Second down, four to go. I expected a short drop back pass to Cruiser. I looked to the side line to get the call. Coach signaled it in, and I laughed. Coach was a madman. I trotted back to the huddle.

"I Right, nine one nine."

One of the linemen broke in. "What the hell is that?"

"Just block your man, Larry." I said. "Break!"

Anthony was on my left, with Crusier to my right. I called out the count, and hiked the ball. When the ball touched my hands, I dropped back. The line held. Anthony and Cruiser blew past their men and streaked down the field. The line held. When they crossed the opposite forty, I threw, still having plenty of time. A beautiful spiral creased the night air in a lazy arc. I could hear the crowd gasp almost en masse. Anthony caught it at the thirty one yard line right in the numbers. He was standing all by himself; there wasn't anybody in a Titans jersey within twenty yards. He waltzed into the end zone. My first official pass was a seventy-three yard touchdown. I pumped my fist. I walked back over to the sidelines and got a pat on the helmet from the Coach.

"Go big or go home, eh Coach?" I said.

"Something like that." He replied. "Nice job."

A kick later and it was 7-0 Wolves.

For the rest of the half, we literally ran roughshod over the state-champion Titans. After getting burned by what was basically a Hail Mary on our second play of the drive, they played the rest of the half waiting for the next long bomb that never came. In the meantime, Brandon was feeding them a regular diet of yardage. They didn't know what hit them. Brandon was pretty much running at will. At the half, we were up 28-7 on my opening bomb and three Brandon Marshall TDs.

When we came out for the half, things were slightly different. The Titans' coach must have decided that my bomb on the first drive was just a fluke, so they were back to stuffing the line, leaving us free to burn them deep. And burn them we did.

Coach opened up the playbook. I was throwing the ball all over the damn place. I threw to Anthony. I threw to Crusier. I threw screens to Brandon. Coach even put Mark in as a third receiver at one point. Appropriately, he dropped the pass at the Titans' five for what would have been an easy touchdown.