Fantasy League (16 page)

THE NEXT SUNDAY THE BULLDOGS played the Rams in St. Louis. They played as if the past few weeks hadn't happened, stopping their losing streak, played as if the whole stretch of bad football had been some kind of bad dream.

Tom threw for one touchdown, ran for another, shocking everybody in the dome in St. Louis with the run, a perfect ball fake on third-and-goal from the five-yard line, fooling even his own teammates with a naked bootleg. He practically walked into the end zone for the score that made it 21–17 at the time for the Bulldogs, in a game they'd eventually win 31–20.

Big division win, as big as the loss to the Rams had been when Jack got flagged for fifteen yards at the end. But what made the win huge for Charlie was the way the team had earned it, the way the defense had gotten stops when it had to and the way the offense mixed passing and running on the last drive.

It was the kind of win that inspired hope. The kind of hope Mr. Warren was always talking about, as if hope were really the best medicine in the world for him.

Anna had agreed to come over to Charlie's house and watch the game, still not officially accepting his apology, just saying she was willing to watch the game with him and for him not to read too much into it. Once she was there, she got lost in the action the way she always did. And when the Bulldogs' last field goal put them up by eleven, she landed with such a crash jumping off his bed, Charlie's mom yelled up and asked which lamp they'd broken.

“All good, Mom,” Charlie called back.

“I know the drill,” she said. “Bulldogs score again.”

Jack Sutton played most of the second half, was involved in a bunch of tackles, knocked down a pass on a blitz, and even got his first sack since his season debut against the Bengals. It came on third down, during the Rams' last drive of the game when they still had a shot at scoring a touchdown and tying the game at twenty-eight with a two-point conversion.

But it was more than his play. Charlie could see him, when the camera was on him, talking it up in the defensive huddle, talking it up with the defensive linemen when they were sitting on the bench. Trying to be a leader. Maybe trying to get their trust back for the big games to come.

“Forgot what it felt like for us to win a game,” Charlie said when Tom Pinkett took a knee and ran out the last of the clock.

Before Anna could answer, her phone buzzed. She looked to see who it was, showed Charlie that her phone said “Gramps.”

“Did I
watch
?” she said into her phone. “No, Gramps, I decided to go back and watch the whole season of
The Voice
so far. Of
course
I watched!”

She made a face and said, “Yes, I watched with Charlie.” Looked at Charlie as she said, “Decided to throw him a bone.”

Then she was handing Charlie the phone and he heard Joe Warren saying, “What did I tell you, Charlie boy? New season, starting right now. Brand-new season.”

Charlie could hear a lot of excited chatter in the background.

“Who was it,” Charlie said, “that told me all it takes is one game to change everything?”

“Some old fart,” Joe Warren said. Then, “See you at practice this week?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Give Anna a hug for me?”

“No, sir.”

“She forgive you yet?”

“Very nice to talk to you, too, sir,” Charlie said. They both laughed, and then Joe Warren told him to tell Anna he'd call her tomorrow; he was on his way down to the locker room.

• • •

The next week the Bulldogs played the Steelers at Bulldogs Stadium. The Bulldogs with a chance to get to 5–6 with five games to play, putting them a couple games out of first in a weak NFC West, trailing the 49ers and Seahawks, both tied for first place.

Charlie was back in Joe Warren's suite for that one, sitting next to the old man with the score tied at twenty, four minutes left, Bulldogs' ball.

Jack Sutton had intercepted a ball in the flat early in the game, stepping in front of the Steelers' tight end and tipping the ball to himself, grabbing it out of the air, running thirty yards to the end zone.

Like he was back running down Alvarado Street.

But he wasn't the story of this game over the last four minutes, this was just the most balanced offense the Bulldogs had shown in a while, Tom mixing short passes with runs, the Bulldogs actually running the ball more than they had in weeks, Silas Burrell doing the heavy lifting, on his way to only his second hundred-yard rushing game of the season. He ended up scoring the winning touchdown, carrying three Steelers' tacklers into the end zone.

After the touchdown, Charlie walked outside and looked around at Bulldogs Stadium going crazy, actually feeling the place shake, wondering if the players on the field could feel the
ground
shaking.

He had never seen the place so happy, never felt so connected to the rest of the fans, knowing that this was the way sports was supposed to make you feel. All in a place that had sometimes seemed not just empty of fans at this point in other seasons, but empty of life and fun.

Charlie looked at it all and heard it all and thought:

This is why Mr. Warren wanted to bring football back to his hometown.

AS NOVEMBER TURNED INTO DECEMBER, all of a sudden things had gotten a lot better in Charlie's world.

The Bulldogs were winning some games and Charlie's other team, the Culver City Cardinals, wouldn't stop winning, still solidly in first place, on their way to the league's championship game—and a rematch with Palos Verdes—if both teams held their places at number one and number two.

And things were mostly back to being the way they used to be with Anna.

The Cardinals' season would end first, one more regular season game against Pacific Palisades, and then the championship game the week after that.

At dinner one night Charlie's mom said, “It really is amazing that the Bulldogs might not have had anything close to the season they're having if it hadn't been for you.”

“It's more complicated than that, Mom. Things are never that simple in sports.”

“As far as I can tell, Tom Pinkett and Jack Sutton didn't bring themselves to Los Angeles.”

“You know who really deserves a ton of credit?” Charlie said.

“Who?”

“Anna.”

“Interesting theory. Not that I'm sure I understand it.”

“Think about it, because Anna made me think about it when we were fighting,” Charlie said. “She's the one who basically put me next to Mr. Warren. And if I'm not next to Mr. Warren, it doesn't matter whether I think Tom Pinkett can still play or not. She's the one who gave me the chance. She's the one who convinced me to do the podcast and to believe in myself. You've got to give her props for Tom and Jack Sutton, too.”

His mom got out of her chair then, came around the table, hugged him from behind, gave him a quick kiss on top of his head, went and sat back down.

“What was that for?”

“
That
,” she said, “was for being you.”

• • •

The Saturday after the Bulldogs won 28–17 in Arizona with three more touchdown passes for Tom Pinkett, his total for the season putting him fourth in the league now, the Culver City Cardinals played for the championship of their league.

Rematch with Palos Verdes. Memorial Field. One vs. two. All that.

Let's go.

Anna was there with Charlie's mom, Joe Warren telling Charlie the night before that he was coming, too, wouldn't miss it, might be a little late because he had a couple of stops he had to make first, but to look for him on the Cardinals' side of the field.

“I want to hang with the winners,” Joe Warren said on the phone. “Look at us, Charlie boy, both coming up winners right now, like nothing can stop either one of us.”

About five minutes before the kickoff, Steve Fallon came over to Charlie and shook his hand.

“You were right about Jack Sutton,” Kevin's dad, the big radio host, said. “I was wrong.”

Charlie grinned and shook his head. “What do you expect from the media?”

“You know,” Steve Fallon said, “I've been thinking, maybe we could do something else with you on my show besides just having you make fantasy picks.”

“You'll have to talk to my agent.” Charlie pointed to the bleachers.

“Your mom?” Steve Fallon said.

“Anna.”

Coach Dayley came over then and said to Charlie, “You ready?”

“To play or coach?”

“How about both? How about we get one of those moments today where you know what they're going to call and then know exactly what to do about it?”

“Anything else?” Charlie said.

“No,” Coach said, “that ought to do it.”

Both teams lined up for the kickoff now, the Cardinals getting the ball, Charlie on the sideline. He turned and looked into the stands again, saw where his mom and Anna were sitting. Still no sign of Joe Warren. Maybe he'd gotten tied up at one of the stops he said he had to make.

And in that moment, Charlie Gaines knew something, not just in his football brain but in his heart:

He was even more excited to be here than he'd been in Bulldogs Stadium, to know he was going to be something more than a spectator. To be a part of this team, part of the day, playing in a Big Game like this.

He had come into the season without any expectations for himself, thinking of himself as a total scrub, maybe thinking of himself that way so he wouldn't be disappointed when he didn't really contribute the way his teammates did.

But things were different now, Charlie actually surprised at how fired up he was, how anxious he was to get out there, how the stakes hadn't just been raised for the Culver City Cardinals because of the way they'd played all season, but had been raised for Charlie himself.

Charlie the football player.

The second game between the two teams turned out to be even better than the first, both Jarrod and Palos Verdes' Graham Yost throwing touchdown passes in the first half, Kevin returning a punt for a touchdown, the game tied at the half, the Cardinals eventually taking a 20–19 lead into the fourth quarter.

Charlie had played the entire second quarter, just because he was doing a good job of bringing it on this day. On the Vikings' last series of the half, he'd noticed as Graham moved his fullback a little to the right of his normal setup spot, remembering they'd run the screen when Graham had moved the kid earlier. Charlie nearly got to Graham right before he released the ball, batting down the pass, just missing a sack.

But as well as he'd played, he was back next to Coach for most of the third quarter, even as Coach told him when the teams were switching sides at the end of the quarter that he was going to get him back out there.

“Cool,” Charlie said, wanting to get back out there, wanting to be a player today and not just an assistant coach.

“But for now,” Coach Dayley said, “keep those eyes of yours open for me.”

“Always.”

Every chance he got, though, he swiveled his head around and put those eyes on the bleachers, looking for Joe Warren.

Still not there.

Charlie wanting him to be here, more than he ever thought he would. Wishing that the old man had seen him knock down that pass and nearly get that sack. Wanting Mr. Warren to see something more than Charlie's football brain on display today.

Wanting him to cheer for the guy he called Charlie boy the way the dads in the stands cheered for their own boys.

With eight minutes to go in the game, Graham Yost eluded a big rush and threw a touchdown pass to his tight end. The Vikings missed on the conversion, but they now led 25–20.

Charlie watching it happen, standing next to his coach.

Coach Dayley, talking to himself more than Charlie, said, “If we really are the best team in the league, we'll be that team now.”

The Cardinals didn't panic on offense, didn't try to come back all at once with long passes, played as if they had plenty of time—which they did.

Jarrod threw short passes when he wasn't handing the ball off to Kevin Fallon, Charlie sure Kevin was over a hundred rushing yards for the day now. With four minutes and forty seconds left, the Cardinals faced a third-and-four at the Vikings' seventeen-yard line. Jarrod ran an option with Kevin that had been working for them since the Cardinals' first series of the game, decided to keep the ball this time, was just about to turn the corner, plenty of open space in front of him, when the Palos Verdes safety came flying in from the side, launched himself at Jarrod, put his helmet on the ball and knocked it loose.

Fumble, scramble, big pileup.

When the refs sorted it all out, it was the Vikings' ball with time running out. A turnover might seal the win.

Coach Dayley and Coach Fallon quickly gathered the defense around them.

“We need a stop, boys,” he said. “Or we need the ball. Somebody make a play for us.”

The Vikings ran the ball twice for only three yards, but then Graham scrambled for nine yards and a first down.

Three minutes left.

Charlie wondering when Coach was going to call one of the two time-outs he had left, watching the clock run, maybe running out on their season.

Graham kept it on first down, an option play, Shota Matsumoto coming up and making the play on him, a big hit that knocked Graham's right shoulder pad out of his jersey. But when everybody got up after the play, Shota stayed down, holding his shoulder. He didn't get to his feet until Coach Dayley and Coach Fallon pulled him up and started to walk him off the field.

When they all got to the sideline Coach said, “Get in there for Shota, Charlie. Don't need just your eyes now. Make a play.”

The Vikings ran the ball again on second down, and Coach used his first time-out, right before the two-minute warning stopped the clock.

Third-and-long for the Vikings.

If they got another first down, the game would be over, unless the Vikings somehow turned the ball over. Game over. Season over. The Vikings—champs.

The offense broke the huddle.

As they did, the fullback started to take his normal position.

Then Graham Yost moved him to his right.

Charlie's eyes on him as he did.

Moved him the way he had in the second quarter on the screen pass Charlie had batted down.

Charlie also saw that the other running back had moved into the slot to help spread out the defense, no weak-side blocking to Graham's left if Charlie came with a blitz.

A blitz he was calling for himself now. A backup linebacker who'd spent most of the year thinking that was his position. Backup, not linebacker.

Make a play, Coach had said.

Too late to tell anybody else—he didn't want to tip off Graham. But Charlie was sure he was going to try to throw the screen, get the first down, and close out the Cardinals right here and now.

Graham took the snap from center, Charlie so anxious he nearly jumped the count. But he was coming hard from Graham's left, nobody paying any attention to him. It was why there was suddenly all this green between Charlie and the Palos Verdes quarterback.

Jack Sutton had once said all quarterbacks, no matter how good they were, had the same chance when they didn't know you were coming.

No chance.

Charlie saw Graham Yost's arm coming up now. But he never got it moving forward.

Charlie was on him.

Making sure not to come in too high or lead with his helmet, he knew the rules about that, knew them the way his coaches did.

He kept his helmet down and lowered his shoulder and drove it into Graham's side, feeling the air come out of Graham.

The ball came loose.

Both Charlie and Graham Yost were facing the same way on the ground, right next to each other, facing the Palos Verdes end zone.

The ball was right there in front of them, maybe a yard out of their reach.

But Charlie had spotted it before Graham did and started scrambling after it like a sand crab on the beach, not wanting to waste time even trying to get to his knees.

Coach Dayley always talked about how you had to want it more than the other guy in football. Charlie wanted the football now, more than he ever wanted anything in a game he was playing and not watching.

He could see Graham out of the corner of his eye trying to get up and get to the ball, as if he had time to do both and still beat Charlie to it. Only he didn't.

Somehow in the same motion, Charlie managed to push himself up as he put his hands on the football.

He felt Graham reaching for his legs. Too late. Charlie was upright now, ball in his hands, moving, starting to run.

Running with the ball for the first time as a Culver City Cardinal.

He never even peered over his shoulder, his eyes focused only on the end zone in front of him. Never even saw all the Viking jerseys chasing him.

Not sure where he was on the field exactly, not sure if it was the twenty-yard line or the fifteen. Just seeing the end zone in front of him. Telling himself that if he was ever going to be fast, now would be as good a time as any.

He tucked the ball firmly between his elbow and shoulder, pressing it to him as hard as he could. Charlie had watched enough football in his life to have seen enough balls get knocked loose by a defender coming up from behind, the guy with the ball not expecting the hit.

The hit came when he got to the five, Charlie hearing the Palos Verdes guy yell with the effort it must have taken to catch up with him and jump on his back before it was too late.

Charlie felt the guy on him reaching for the ball. Charlie started to lose his balance and go down, knowing that even if he didn't score, he could at least put the Cardinals at the one or two, just as long as he didn't fumble and ruin the greatest play he was probably ever going to make in his life.

With one final effort, Charlie gripped the ball tight and launched himself, just trying to fall forward. He did, falling just far enough to reach the white line of the end zone.

Touchdown.

26–25 Cardinals.

• • •

The rest of the guys on defense mobbed him in the end zone.

Before they got back to the sideline Sean Barkley banged helmets with Charlie and yelled, “Brain, using his!”

The Cardinals missed the conversion. On the kickoff, the Vikings' returner took the kick back to the forty and nearly broke it for more than that, scaring Charlie and his teammates half to death.

But the Cardinals' defense held up as Graham Yost threw four straight incompletions. The Cardinals took over on downs and Jarrod knelt to run out the clock.

Game over. Cardinals the champs, by a point.

Charlie stayed on the field with his teammates, all of them waiting for the trophy presentation. Before it started, Charlie jogged over to where his mom and Anna were standing behind the Cardinals' bench.

His mom hugged him, pulled back and said, “I grew up around here. And when I was a little girl, Kirk Gibson hit this home run to win a World Series game when he was so hurt he could barely walk, and when he did the announcer said, ‘I don't believe what I just saw.' Well, I'm not sure I believe what
I
just saw.”