Football Genius (2007) (15 page)

KROCK HELD UP HIS
mom's phone and snapped it in two. Troy watched him hand the broken pieces back to his mom and then limp away. His mom looked down at the broken phone for a moment with her mouth open, then she faded back into the crowd of photographers as if to hide. To Troy, it was almost like a silent movie.

He turned his attention back to Krock, who was signaling Seth over to the sideline. The crowd cheered the old linebacker as he jogged off. Krock's face was twisted and red with rage. Krock pointed to the bench, motioned for Seth's backup to get out onto the field, and turned his back on Seth. Seth didn't budge. He started yelling and waving his hands at the coach until Krock spun around and jabbed his finger into Seth's chest, screaming something and pointing to the bench again.

When Krock turned back toward the field, Troy saw Seth march right over to Bart McFadden and grab him by the upper arm, obviously telling him what had happened. McFadden frowned and nodded and walked with Seth over to where Krock stood watching his defense. The Raiders snapped the ball and threw a pass to the tight end for a fifteen-yard gain.

Krock spun around when he felt Bart McFadden's hand on his shoulder. Krock smiled wide. The two coaches began to talk when, suddenly, the crowd erupted. The Raiders had just scored a touchdown, making it 17-14.

Krock went crazy, pointing at Seth and pointing to the bench before he stormed away. McFadden said something to Seth before he walked away too.

Seth turned and threw his helmet down. It bounced off the turf and rolled under the bench. Seth followed it and sat down, his chin resting on the breastplate of his shoulder pads. They had benched him.

Troy turned his attention to his mom and saw her ease through the photographers and up behind the bench, showing the security guard her pass as she went. She put her hand on the backrest of the bench and knelt down behind Seth so none of the coaches or other players could see her. She said something to Seth, and he slowly turned around and shook his head. She gestured at him with her hands, pointing up toward Troy, then back to the field. Seth looked at her, smiled, and started nodding.

The crowd suddenly erupted in deafening boos. Troy looked to the field. The Raiders had intercepted a pass and run it in for a touchdown. The Raiders now led, 21-17.

When Troy looked back, his mom was talking with one of the security guards, who took a cell phone out of his pocket and handed it to her. She looked up at Troy, and the phone rang.

"WHAT DID SHE SAY?"
Tate asked when Troy ended the call.

The stadium was a blur of red and black and a funnel of noise. Troy tried to focus, but he kept expecting that he would wake up and be in his bedroom. It was all too weird. Tate shook him.

"They want me to go to Mr. Langan," he said, still staring.

"The
owner
?" Nathan said.

Troy nodded. Tate looked up at the luxury boxes, scanning for a moment before she pointed and said, "There he is."

Troy turned his head. Sitting there next to his wife was John Langan, severe looking in his dark suit and red tie, gazing down at the field, his neat, thin mustache a flat line above his tightly closed mouth.

"But how do you get up there?" Nathan asked.

"Come on," Tate said, dragging Troy out of his seat. "If she says we have to go, then we have to go."

Troy followed her up the concrete steps and into the concession area. Tate walked a little ways and yanked open a teal-colored door opposite the hot-dog stand. Concrete steps and a metal railing went up as well as down.

"This is the emergency exit," Nathan said.

"So it has to go to all the floors," Tate said. "Come on."

Their footsteps pinged off the concrete, echoing through the stairwell. They went past the door on five all the way to six. Tate tugged on the handle.

It was locked.

She turned to them and said, "Okay, when they open this door, we have to think fast and talk fast. We can't take no for an answer. Troy, remember, your mom works for the team. She told you to find Mr. Langan, and he's going to want to see you. You just keep telling them you
have to
see him, and Nathan and I will help."

"How?" Troy asked.

Tate smiled and shrugged. "We'll figure a way."

Then she began pounding on the metal door and shrieking at the top of her lungs. Still, it was nearly five minutes before the handle turned and the door jerked open. A woman security guard in a dark blue vest with a silver badge peeked her head through the door.

"What in the world?" she said.

Tate slipped through the opening and darted behind the guard, causing her to turn. Troy and Nathan followed them out into the carpeted hallway. A curving line of doorways went for as far as Troy could see in either direction. Opposite the doors was a metal railing that opened out over the club lounge a level below. There were other guards, sitting in chairs facing the doors every fifty feet, and the two closest stood up and started their way holding walkie-talkies.

"You children can't come on this floor unless you're sitting in a box," the guard said. She grabbed Tate's collar. "Now come on."

Tate shrugged her off and stamped her foot, pointing at Troy.

"His mom works for the team," she said, her face pinched and red. "We're supposed to be here."

"I'm supposed to see Mr. Langan," Troy said, straightening his back but unable to keep his eyes from shifting toward the approaching guards and his voice from sounding weak.

"If your mom works for the team," the guard said, squinting at them, "where is she? Where are your passes? Uh-uh. You three go right back down where you came from."

That's when Nathan grabbed his own throat and fell to the floor. He began choking and groaning and twisting his whole body like he was doing the Worm Dance. His eyes rolled up into his head. The one guard stepped back, her face aghast. The other two ran up and knelt beside Nathan, trying to hold him and squawking into their radios at the same time.

Tate screamed at the top of her lungs and shouted that her friend was dying.

TATE GRIPPED TROY'S ARM
and yanked him away from the little crowd.

"Go!" she yelled into his ear, pointing at the curve of doors. "It's gotta be one of those. Go!"

Tate shoved him away, then turned, stuffed her fingers in her ears, and started to scream again.

Troy felt like he'd had an electric shock. He was scared to death. Still, he put his hand on the first door he could reach and pulled it open. A man in a tweed blazer with a glass of wine in his hand looked surprised.

"Is this Mr. Langan's box?" Troy asked.

The man looked him up and down and scowled, but he shook his head and pointed with his thumb, saying, "Two down. What's going on out there?"

Troy yanked the door shut and darted away. Tate's screaming pierced his ears. Another guard dashed past Troy, nearly knocking him over. Troy glanced back and saw a pair of emergency medical technicians bursting out of the elevator next to the stairwell in their white coats. Troy walked fast, two doors down, and tried the door. It was locked.

Troy looked around the corner of the little alcove, back out into the hallway. It was chaos. Tate was still screaming, but two of the guards had her now and she was kicking her feet wildly in the air. A policeman got off the elevator this time. The EMTs were bent over Nathan, trying to hold him still.

Troy dipped back into the alcove and knocked on the door. When no one answered, he knocked louder. When that didn't work, he pounded with his fists. That's when a tall, angular man in a suit appeared. Troy had seen him with Mr. Langan before--Bob McDonough, a former Secret Service Agent. His eyes were blue and hard, and he turned them down on Troy and asked him what he was doing.

"I have to see Mr. Langan," Troy said, swallowing.

Bob McDonough heard the noise and leaned out into the hallway.

Troy made a move to slip past, but Bob McDonough seemed ready. His hand clamped down on Troy's shoulder.

"Where are you going?" Bob McDonough asked.

"I have to see him," Troy said, pleading. "My mom works for him. He'll want to see me. Something's happening down on the field. He's going to want to know. Please."

Bob McDonough narrowed his eyes and said, "You're that kid. They dragged you out of the Cowboys game."

Troy shook his head. "You have to tell him. Tell him Troy White. My mom is Tessa. Please. He'll want to listen. I know he will. Please."

Bob McDonough looked out into the hall again, then frowned at Troy.

"Wait here," he said.

The door closed. The lock clicked.

Troy put his hands against the smooth wood and rested his face against its cool surface, pressing his ear tight but hearing only the roaring noise of the crowd as something exciting happened out on the field. He felt the door handle vibrating, someone unlocking it. His heart jumped and he stepped back, smoothing his shirt.

But before the door opened, a woman's voice behind him shouted, "That's him! That's the kid!"

He spun and stared into the angry face of the security guard.

Beside her was a police officer with handcuffs.

"WHAT'S GOING ON?" BOB
McDonough asked.

The police officer took Troy by the shoulder and put one hand behind his back, snapping open one of the handcuff bracelets.

"These kids were trying to get to Mr. Langan," the cop said.

"We got them," the security guard bellowed. "I stopped them all."

"Wait," Bob McDonough told them.

Troy stood frozen. The security guard folded her arms and scowled at him. Bob McDonough took the cop by the arm and led him around the corner, into the hall. The two of them whispered back and forth, the cop eyeing Troy until he nodded and put the handcuffs back on his belt.

"Come on," Bob McDonough said to Troy, walking past him and back into the luxury box.

They walked through a sitting area with a table of food and a bar against the back wall. Two waiters hovered uncertainly. There were three tiers of seats going down on either side of a small set of stairs. Troy saw men in suits and, in the front row, Mr. Langan with his own young son and his dark-haired wife. The owner's eyes were glued to the field.

The scoreboard said the Falcons were now even further behind, 24-17. Josh Lock dropped back. Every receiver was covered and the defensive linemen were breaking through. Lock darted one way, then the other, dodging defenders and weaving through his own players toward the line of scrimmage. Mr. Langan jumped to his feet along with the other seventy thousand people inside the Dome. The noise was so loud that Troy could feel it in his teeth.

Then a Raiders linebacker clipped Lock's ankles and down he went for no gain. The air went out of the crowd. Troy swallowed and moved toward the owner.

"Wait," Bob McDonough said, clamping his hand on Troy's shoulder.

They stood, watching the Falcons' offense sputter until they finally had to punt. What energy was left disappeared and the Dome seemed to deflate while everyone waited for the TV time-out to end.

"Okay," Bob McDonough said, moving Troy toward Mr. Langan.

There was an empty seat, and the owner told Troy to sit down. He introduced his wife, Allison, and his son, Sam. Troy was confused. It was as if Troy had been invited, but the comfort of the owner's politeness melted after Troy had shaken hands with Sam.

Mr. Langan turned to him with a serious face and said, "I like your mom, Troy, but why are you here?"

Troy's throat got tight, and his first few words seemed to squeak out of his mouth. He told the owner about Seth, how the linebacker had asked for Troy's help, that he didn't know why but he knew things were going to happen in a football game before they did. He told him about meeting Coach McFadden and how Coach Krock threatened to make him look bad. And he told him why Seth Halloway was no longer in the game.

As Troy finished his story, the Falcons kicked off and the owner cast his eyes down onto the field. As the kickoff team came off, the defense ran on and Seth stayed on the bench.

"I know it sounds crazy," Troy said, "but it's true. Look. Why would he take Seth out? He was playing awesome."

Mr. Langan looked at him for a minute, and Troy was certain he was going to be kicked out. But instead, the owner reached out to the low wall in front of him and lifted the receiver of a red telephone off its hook. He glanced at Troy once more before leaning forward and staring down at the field.

"Get me Coach McFadden, please," Mr. Langan said into the phone.

Troy leaned forward too and watched the commotion in the bench area. The ball boy who had answered the red phone on the Gatorade table scrambled for the head coach. McFadden pulled off his headset and took several long, quick strides to reach the phone.

"Bart," the owner said into the phone, "is Seth Halloway hurt?"

There was a pause before he said, "Then why isn't he in there?"

The owner nodded and said, "Then get him for me."

Mr. Langan kept his eyes on the bench area and the phone tight to his ear. Troy watched as the head coach marched over to the sideline where Krock was directing the defense, giving hand signals to the backup middle linebacker. When Coach McFadden got there, Krock shouted at him and waved him away. Bart McFadden walked back to the Gatorade table alone.

As the owner listened, his brow wrinkled until he was scowling darkly. He thanked Bart McFadden and hung up. Then he looked at Troy before standing and heading up the stairs. When he reached the top, he turned back to Troy and said, "Are you coming?"

Troy jumped out of his seat and dashed up the steps.