Perfect Season (23 page)
Authors: Tim Green
TROY'S MOM GAVE SETH
a concrete look, then walked back up into the stands.
Seth patted Troy's shoulder pad and told him it would all work out before he returned to the coach's box on the sideline.
The doctor left and Ms. McLean was called away to deal with an offensive lineman who needed her to retape his sprained ankle.
Troy slumped down on the bench and turned his attention to the game. They'd taken his helmet away so he wouldn't even try to go back in. It was painful to watch. Grant Reed was a lousy quarterback and their defense seemed half a step away from stopping Glen Cove's offense on every drive. As the game went on, Chuku and all the rest of Troy's teammates came over to him to express their concern. Chuku didn't mention the Killer Kombo, but Troy could read the doubt in his teammates' eyes and the fear that without him, the whole thing was about to crumble. By the time the whistle blew signaling halftime, Summit was down, 31â21.
Troy marched with the rest of the players into the team room just inside the school. The Glen Cove players filed into the visitors' locker room a few doors down, hooting and slapping high fives and banging on the metal door as they entered the building.
Troy found Seth and pulled him close. “You can't keep Grant Reed as quarterback.”
“Troy, you're not going back in.” Seth gave his head a violent shake. “It's not an option. Your mom makes that decision, not me. Please, don't even talk about it. Are you okay?”
“I'm . . . yes, I'm fine. This is ridiculous. If you can't put me in, you've got to put Tomkins in. You see that, right? Reed is
terrible
.”
“I know you're sideways about him talking to the paper, but he's better than Tomkins, Troy.” Seth kept his voice low so only Troy could hear him. “If I put Tomkins in, Reed will fold and I won't be able to switch them back. I've got to try Reed in the third quarter and hope he can get something going.”
“This is my mom being crazy.”
“Look, it's done. Hopefully you'll be okayed for next weekâif there is a next week.” Seth's eyes lost their focus for a second. “I've got to talk to the team.”
Seth turned to go, then stopped and put his face close again. “Troy, I know this is crazy, but . . . what do you think about predicting their plays? Have you tried?”
Troy froze and shook his head slowly. “No. I can't . . . it's gone.”
“But you didn't try in the first half, right?”
Behind Seth, the team was all assembled on the benches in front of the big board. The ball boys were passing out bottles of Gatorade and bananas.
“No,” Troy said.
“Okay,” Seth said, “forget it. It's just . . . I can taste it, you know? With all the junk against us, I still think it's gonna work out somehow. If we win next week, it's a perfect season. We'll be in first place, qualify for the playoffs, and from there, hey, we could win it all. It's just . . . we need something to get by this one, but, hey, I understand. I do. Heck, it wasn't working before. I don't even know what I was thinking.”
Seth turned to go.
“Wait.” Troy grabbed his sleeve. “I can try, right?”
Seth wore a painful smile. He held up a hand, and crossed his fingers.
TROY WANTED IT SO
bad, it hurt.
It reminded him of when he was back with the Falcons and he was helping Seth and the teamâhe'd grown up absolutely
loving
the Falconsâand he was hungry for them to win. Troy marched out onto the field with the rest of the team, only without his helmet, and watched from the sideline as Glen Cove did a set of perfect jumping jacks in a huge circle before roaring into the center and shouting out a war cry. The captains went out. Glen Cove would get the ball.
Seth appeared beside him. “What do you think?”
“Even if it comes back,” Troy said. “How can it help? I mean, when we were with the Falcons, you had all the signals worked out. You could change the defenses half a second before the snap.”
Seth gripped Troy's neck. “You think I'm just an ex-football player? I'm a coach. I've been working with Reed on signals for three months. I told you, he's important to the team. Not as complex as we used in Atlanta, but I can signal left, right, center, and run or pass, and he's not bad.”
“I hope better than he plays quarterback,” Troy said.
Seth laughed. “Yes, better. Good, actually. I talked to him about it just now. He'll be ready. You get me their plays and I'll take care of the rest.”
Troy took a deep breath. He didn't trust Reed in any way, but he turned his attention to the field.
Summit kicked off and Glen Cove's offense jogged out onto the field. Seth looked at Troy, and signaled in the defensive play to Reed.
Troy tried to relax, to forget about everythingâReed, the league, his contract with the Jets, Tate's dad, his mom yanking him from the game. He narrowed his eyes as Glen Cove broke the huddle and jogged to the line, willing it to happen. Two tight ends lined up on the same side of the formation. Slot receivers were on the other side. The back was offset.
As the ball was snapped, Troy's mouth opened. “Pop pass to the inside tight end.”
Before Troy finished the sentence, the quarterback had set up and rifled a pop pass to the tight end up the seam. Tomkins lambasted the receiver, but not before Glen Cove had gotten a first down.
Seth's head snapped over in Troy's direction. “What did you say?”
It happened so fast Troy almost wasn't certain if he'd said anything at all. “I said . . . pop pass.”
Seth grabbed the front of his jersey and pulled Troy within inches of his grin. “You did! I
heard
you. You said, âPop pass to the inside tight end.' Troy, you did it! You knew the play!”
“I know, but . . . it was too late.”
“Too late for that one. Look! Watch!”
Out on the field, Glen Cove was breaking the huddle. They were in two backs with a tight end and a receiver on one side.
“Twenty-four lead.” The words just came out. Troy blinked up at Seth.
Seth cupped his hands and screamed at the top of his lungs out to Grant Reed. “Base D! White left run! White left run!”
Reed nodded, called the defense, broke the huddle, and the Summit D lined up. As the quarterback started his cadence, Reed yanked Tomkins by the arm over to the left side of the defense. Neither of them belonged there, and it put two extra men exactly where the ball was going.
On the snap, Reed didn't even wait. He shot through the gap, swam past the fullback, and tackled the runner as he got the handoff. The ball spurted free and Tomkins, who was right behind Reed in the hole, jumped on the fumble and recovered it.
Seth whooped so loud, Troy thought his eardrums would be torn to tatters. Seth grabbed him and lifted him up and spun him around. “We did it! We did it!”
Seth set him down and got close. “No,
you
did it.”
Troy smiled so hard his cheeks started to cramp.
SETH STOOD UP IN
front of the team. They knelt or sat in a semicircle around him in the team room. His hair was a mess and his voice was a ragged whisper from screaming out signals and then shouting for joy when the final whistle blew and the scoreboard read:
home 35
visitors 31
.
“I have been in some incredible football games in my life.” Seth's voice sounded like the dying gasps of an old man. “But I have
never
been part of a win more exciting. I want you guys to remember this moment, right here, right now. I want you to remember what you've done, taking a sad-sack program and turning it into a winner. We got one more game, boys, and it's a perfect season. From there, it's on to the state playoffs. And I'm telling you, if we get there? This group is gonna be state champs!”
The team all hollered and cheered.
Troy felt a mixture of joy and sadness. The win wasn't as sweet after having spent most of the game on the sideline, but he was thankful that he could help.
Troy didn't know how to react when Grant Reed came over to him and hugged him, gripped the back of his neck like a long-lost brother, and kissed him on top of the head. “I was a jerk, man.”
Troy blinked and sputtered. “I . . . me, too. Who cares? We're undefeated.”
“And I want you to know that stuff in the paper wasn't me,” Reed said. “I mean, it was me, but that's not how it was. They asked me a bunch of tricky questions and I didn't know what was going on. I didn't know it was gonna end up in the paper, and then I didn't want to say anything.”
“What people?” Troy asked. “Why would you talk to them?”
“They called me down to the school office to talk to some reporter. I couldn't really say no.”
“Well, like I said, we're still undefeated.” Troy held up a hand and slapped Reed high five.
Reed grinned. “And we're gonna be
state
champions. You get well and run the offense andâheck, if you can do that againâI'll run the defense and we will
crush
people.”
They both laughed together. Spencer, Levi, and Chuku came over and the five of them did a group hug.
Chuku's eyes followed Grant Reed as he walked away, and his mouth hung open in a state of confusion before he whispered in Troy's ear. “Looks like miracles
can
happen, dawg. Who knows, maybe the next thing is my name gets cleared?”
THAT NIGHT, TROY LAY
awake in bed.
The thrill of the win and the discovery that his genius had returned when he felt passionate about winning wouldn't allow him to sleep. His mind ranged over the Jets players, McElroy, Cromartie, Harris, Chuku's dad, and especially Thane. If he could get psyched up, maybe he could help them save their season, too. Maybe he could save his multimillion-dollar contract and they could stay here in Summit. Maybe, just maybe, he could turn things around. It would be so nice to put things right.
That made him think of Chuku. How could he ever put that right? His feet were sweating and the covers seemed too tight. He flipped them off just as something plinked against his window.
Troy froze. “Tate?”
Plink.
He jumped up from his bed, retreated toward the door, maybe instinctively heading for the safety of his mother's room.
Plink.
He stopped and slowly made his way toward the second window, the one not under assault. Below, in the grass next to the big maple tree in the middle of the front lawn, a dark figure fired again.
Plink.
Troy peered into the darkness. The figure moved closer to the house and into the glow of the lamp beside the door on the front porch. A gold loop glinted in the light.
“Dad.” The word escaped his lips in a whisper. His heart soared and he had to control his movements to keep from flinging open the bedroom door and racing down the stairs. Instead, he moved with the stealth of a barn cat, breathing in long, slow draughts. He paused only for a moment outside Tate's bedroom door before continuing on his own. He opened the front door's hardware with a series of soft clicks, sweeping it aside to be greeted by a great waft of cold air and the grinning, orange-bearded face of his father.
“How you doin', boy?”
“SHHH.” TROY MASHED A
finger to his lips, slipped outside, and eased the door shut.
“Oh.” His father whispered and looked up at the second-floor windows. “She's not in on this, huh?”
Troy clutched his own torso and shivered, some from the chill, but more from the thrill of the night and his outlaw father, who just might be able to save his football team. “Can we go someplace?”
“My car is out on the street. You got no shoes.”
“I don't care. Let's go,” Troy said.
“Here. Hop on.” Troy's father turned around and crouched down, patting his back with one hand and reaching for Troy with the other.
Embarrassed but cold, Troy hopped onto his father's back and bounced along as they marched toward the dark street. His dad put him down beside a shabby and faded yellow Porsche convertible and opened the passenger door.
“Hop in.”
Troy did, closing the door behind him. His father got in, too, and fired up the engine, which vibrated the car's frame with a low rumble. His father twisted the controls to pump up the heat. “It'll get warm fast. What's up?”
“Have you . . . do you live around here? Do you know what's been happening?”
His father smiled, exposing the gold front tooth. “Probably the less you know about me, the better, but I've been following you. Chip off the old block. Maybe you'll be down in Tuscaloosa yourself one of these days. Roll Tide.”
Troy knew “Roll Tide” was Alabama's battle cry and he knew his father had set rushing records during his time there, a couple of which still stood. “I got a lot of work to do before that.”
“But you got a good start.” His father winked. “That's the key. Especially for a quarterback. It doesn't happen overnight.”
“These people who are trying to wreck our season,” Troy said. “We know who they are. Well, we don't know
exactly
who they are, but we know the name of their company and their lawyer.”
“Ahh, the lawyer always leads to the client.”
Troy wondered if his father still considered himself a lawyer. He had to believe that given all his own trouble with the law, he probably wasn't allowed to be a lawyer anymore.
“You said you'd help if I needed you.”
Troy looked, and waited.
