Page 32 of The Perfect Pass
Everyone on the team is important.
That’s how Jackson saw it, anyway. In reality, Tommy could just as easily crash and burn. But the kid deserved a chance. If not now, when the team was up nearly fifty points, then when?
* * *
Calla had written her entire column in her head by the start of the fourth quarter. The Yellowjackets had finally made their first touchdown late in the third, but with such a massive lead, the Bulldogs were unbeatable. With a win all but certain, the crowd began to thin. The cheerleaders waved their green-and-white pom-poms and tried to keep the fans engaged, but the overall mood in the stands was relaxed in the face of such an overwhelming lead. Even Bishop the bulldog had fallen asleep down on the field. At some point, he’d rolled onto his back with all four paws pointed skyward.
Calla aimed her phone at the dog, zoomed in and snapped a picture.
“What’s he doing?” Bailey said as Calla inspected the image to see if it might work to accompany her story.
“Who?” Calla asked without looking up. The picture was adorable. Readers were going to love it.
“Jackson.” Bailey nudged her with an elbow and pointed toward the bench. “It looks like he’s subbing all the starters.”
That got Calla’s attention.
She dropped her phone into her cross-body bag and glanced up in time to see a gangly, awkward kid line up as a wide receiver. He looked like he was swimming in his oversize shoulder pads and helmet.
“That’s Tommy Riess. He’s a sophomore on the marching band, and he works part-time as kennel help at Dad’s vet clinic.” She flipped open her notepad. Apparently, she wasn’t finished taking notes, after all.
“Tommy has such a tender touch with the animals, especially the fearful ones. This is going to get ugly,” Dad mutteredas the fourth-string quarterback fumbled the snap. “I’m not sure what Coach Knight is thinking. Tommy’s been anxious to get off the bench, but he can’t weigh more than one hundred twenty pounds soaking wet. I’m not sure those kids are ready to be out there.”
Maybe not, but putting them in was a bold move. A lot of coaches in his position would’ve kept their starters in play until the final whistle. Jackson had finally gotten himself back into the town’s good graces, and here he was, risking it all again.
He’s putting the good of the team first—even before his own reputation.
There was more to Jackson Knight than he liked to let on, wasn’t there? Calla had been wrong about him in more ways than one. What else was he hiding behind that brash image of his? And why was he so intent on keeping the real him a secret?
She watched as Bob Simmons scowled at Jackson in disapproval with each misstep the inexperienced players made on the field. As the time left in the quarter ran down, the Yellowjackets chipped away at the Bulldogs’ massive lead. They scored two field goals, but still couldn’t manage to get a touchdown to save their lives.
Through it all, Jackson cut a calm and deliberate figure on the sidelines, despite his team’s clumsy mistakes. When at last they got a first down, he pumped his fist and cheered as if it had been a touchdown. On the field, the substitute players jumped up and down, celebrating like they’d just won a championship game in overtime.
Calla’s heart gave the kind of tug it used to do when she watched the Bulldogs play in high school. She couldn’t help it. The whole scene was just so endearing, and whenthe remaining spectators rose to their feet and began clapping and cheering, she teetered on the brink of getting misty-eyed.
Get ahold of yourself. You willnotcry over a football game. You don’t even care who wins.
But heaven help her, she did. Her heart hammered in her chest as the clock wound down to the final seconds and the Bulldogs crept closer and closer to the end zone. She wanted these kids to score, as improbable as it seemed.
“Go, Bulldogs!” someone behind her yelled.
Off to the right, a couple of staunch Bulldogs enthusiasts started a rhythmic chant. “Let’s go, Bulldogs. Let’s go!”
To Calla’s utter astonishment, the cheer caught on. One by one, people stood, joining in and stomping their feet to the beat until the metal bleachers started to shake beneath her boots. She never would’ve expected this kind of support for the backup team, especially when the Bulldogs were already so far ahead.
“This is crazy!” Bailey yelled above the cheers, grinning and shaking her head.
“Look! They’re going for it!” Dad pointed toward the substitute quarterback dropping back and scanning the field with only five seconds left on the clock.
It didn’t even make sense. Why would Jackson call a real play with mere seconds left in the game? Any other coach would’ve run down the clock and taken the win.
Clearly the Yellowjackets didn’t get it, either. Or maybe the opposing team was simply tired and beaten down by the wide margin, because the defense barely went through the motions. For all practical purposes, they just let theplay unfold. It wasn’t like this ragtag group of third- and fourth-string players would actually score.
The crowd started counting down in anticipation of the final whistle and the Bulldogs’ first official win of the season.
Five…
Four…
