Page 76 of Red Zone Realizations
Do or die.
I block for the run. I sweep out for the pass and watch as Colin throws the ball toward Jaden and it tips off his fingers and falls toward the ground. The safety is on him like glue, diving for the ball as it falls. All I can do is hold my breath as it plays out in front of me. An interception at this point will kill us. This is our last possession of the game, and it has to end in points.
I watch, not breathing, as the ball pops in and out of their hands. When it hits the turf and the refs call the play dead, I sigh with relief. It does waste a down, but it isn’t a dagger to the heart.
I have no idea where the defense mustered the moxie to make this stand, but they did, and they do. We aren’t able to get in the end zone. The coverage is too tight, and we are running out of attainable first downs.
We’re going to have to settle for a field goal.
Our kicker is pretty new. Booker is a rookie out of Kansas State. He’s not been super reliable this season, and it’s been frustrating to watch him miss time and time again. He’s had a lackluster year, and now we have to put this game in his hands.
I stand on the sidelines, again, as the special teams line up for the kick.
It’s snapped.
Held.
Booted.
And…
It’s not good.
Thedoinkreverberates off the goal post and straightthrough my fucking heart as our chances at the Super Bowl die right here.
The home crowd goes wild. They just witnessed their team duke it out in a super close game and come out on top.
I look at my feet. The cleats on the turf. I won’t see this view for another eight months. Some might be proud of what we did this season, making it farther in the playoffs than any other Hurricanes team in the last five years, but it’s not enough for me to come all this way and lose. All my individual achievements mean nothing when the team isn’t winning.
I move out toward the field with my teammates and coaches to shake the other team’s hands and congratulate them on moving forward. It fucking hurts to do, but it’s important to be sportsmanlike. Everything feels too heavy. The pads on my chest, the muscles in my legs. Everything weighs one-hundred pounds more than it should.
I try not to literally hang my head as I approach the stands. Most of the fans have filed out of the stadium already, leaving just a few lingering. Audrey is scrolling through her phone, likely checking her email, while she waits for me. I glance up over her and see my parents collecting their things. All three of them see me at the same time. The difference in emotions on their faces are stark. Audrey is beaming at me like I hung the moon even though, if anything, I definitely just tore it down and let it all go to hell. My mom looks ready to wrap me in one of her everything-will-be-okay hugs that she saves specifically for after losses. My dad… he looks like someone spit in his ice cream sundae. They all move in unison, sliding out of their respective rows and coming down the cement steps to meet me. They’re standing nearly shoulder to shoulder, all wearing my jersey, none of them realizing who the other is.
I know I have to be the one to break the ice first. “Hey,Mom and Dad.” I turn to Audrey. “Hey, babe.” Their eyes immediately whip to one another and then back to me.
“Well, this is unexpected,” my mom breathes.
I probably could have done that a better way. I clear my throat. “Mom, Dad, meet my girlfriend Audrey. Audrey, these are my parents, James and Nora.”
Audrey stretches out a polite hand for them to shake, but my mom pushes right past it, pulling her in for a hug. She holds Audrey’s shoulders in place as she leans back to take in her face. “You’re so beautiful. It’s so nice to meet you. I’m so glad you were here to support Noah.”
I aim my thoughts at my dad, as if I could control his actions with my mind:Do not be an asshole to her because you’re mad at my performance.To my relief he just holds his hand out to Audrey and accepts her handshake.
It seems the shock of Audrey meeting my parents at an away game of all places has worn off because she turns to me and throws her hands around my neck, her arms resting heavily on my shoulder pads. “I’m so sorry, Noah. You played really well.” She pulls back to look at me. “You’ll get them next year.”
“If you’re still on a team in their division,” my dad says. And here we go.
“I’ll still be here. We went to the playoffs.”
“Losing the wildcard game is barely making the playoffs.” He waves casually at someone behind me. Probably some offensive coordinator who was in the league when he was years ago. Everyone loved him. I just disappoint him. He looks back at us, Audrey still standing close to my side. “Now I can see why.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Audrey asks, then looks at me like she didn’t mean to be so forward with my dad. I canimagine she thinks it’s a bad look for her, but I love that she did it anyway.
“I warned him before this season even started that he needed to keep his head in the game. And what did he do? Go off and find a cheap distraction.”
“James,” Mom warns.
“No, Nora. This is his career, and he’s got goo-goo eyes on a girl in the stands instead of on this make-or-break game.”
