The Walk On (30 page)

“So why maybe?”

“It
is
the night after the state championship game.”

“And?”

“How about if you guys win, I’ll go with you.”

“So you’ll only go with me if we’re state champions? That’s ridiculous!”

“I was kidding,” she said, laughing at his outrage. “Sure, I’ll go with you.” She paused to watch his face light up. “But only if you admit you’re better than Matt. You said you were back in September. And now I’m convinced.”

“Matt would never have made the dumb play I made last night. I’ve learned a lot from watching him. You can’t say that I’m better than he is. We have different strengths.”

“I can say it, and I do,” she answered. “But I’ll go to the dance with you anyway. I like loyalty.”

Alex did play, for one series, in the Lincoln game, and he got one series in the game against Thomas Jefferson the week after that. (Matt Gordon called it the “presidents portion” of the schedule.)

In both games he got in for the second offensive series of the third quarter. The Lions were leading comfortably in both cases: 21–0 against Lincoln and 24–7 against Jefferson. He followed the play calls to a tee, not even bothering to consider an audible. He threw four passes total.

They won both games so easily it was almost dull.

There was the usual congratulatory text from his dad after the Jefferson game with a promise to be at the next one and
if not, then the playoffs!
Always there was a hedge in the promises. Alex had intentionally stopped thinking about how much he missed his dad. It just hurt too much.

Coach Gordon hadn’t said anything to him about the changed call and the benching after his stint running the steps. He was now back to splitting scrimmage reps with Jake behind Matt, although he was still listed second on the depth chart. He also alternated with Jake running the scout team offense again—which really hurt because he wasn’t even practicing plays his team would be running in the game.

Naturally, the person who tried hardest to keep his spirits up was Matt Gordon.

“Just learn from your mistake,” Matt counseled. “I know you felt awful when it happened, but long run it was probably good for you. And it didn’t hurt the team, so just let it go.”

“It didn’t hurt us because you won the game in the second half.”

“And you bailed us out in the King of Prussia game. I don’t see you going around bragging about that. So don’t beat yourself up for one mistake.”

Matt was right, and Alex knew it. Still, it bothered him that his playing time had been cut back as the season was wrapping up.

They would finish the regular season at home against their archrival, Chester. The Clippers were 8–1, having lost their season opener to a school in Texas in a game televised on ESPN. Like Chester Heights, they had a 6–0 conference record, meaning the winner would advance to the state playoffs. The loser would go home.

On Monday, there was very little of the usual joking or teasing during pre-practice stretching. Even Matt was a little tight.
“The nine wins will mean nothing if we lose this game,” he said as the quarterbacks warmed up. “We’ll be remembered as a team that had a lot of potential but couldn’t get it done when we had to get it done.”

“How good are they?” Jake said. “Do you know?”

“We beat them pretty easily last year, but they have some transfers and a lot of returning starters. They throw the ball a lot—I checked their stats. I think their quarterback, Todd Austin, is being recruited by some midlevel D1 schools. I’ve seen some film of him and he’s pretty good—better than last year.”

He smiled. “His arm’s almost as strong as yours, Goldie.” Everyone chuckled at that and things felt a little more normal. But there was no doubting the pressure everyone was feeling. All the coaches were a little more short-tempered than normal when mistakes were made. During Wednesday’s practice, Josephs fumbled a pitch on one play, and then Matt overthrew Jonas on a pass over the middle a play later. Coach Gordon’s whistle blew.

“Everyone to midfield,” he said. “Right now.”

It was after five o’clock and the sun was already starting to set. It occurred to Alex that at this hour next week it would be dark because the clocks would be set back on Saturday night. It was chilly now; it would no doubt be cold then. He hoped they would get the chance to be cold.

“Listen, fellas,” Coach Gordon said. “We’re about to play our tenth game. I know you’re all feeling some pressure because of what’s at stake. But you have
got
to keep doing what you’ve been doing all season. Craig, wrap that football up! Matt, don’t short-arm your passes. You’ve got plenty of
arm—just throw the ball. I know it’s late, you’re all a little tired. We aren’t going to go much longer.

“Tomorrow we’ll just be fine-tuning things,” he continued. “Let’s make sure that practice isn’t our last one of the season.”

“Now,
that’s
the way to keep us loose,” Matt said quietly as the offense retreated to huddle up.

Everyone laughed. But it was nervous laughter. Friday was going to be a long night.

As it turned out, Friday was the coldest day of the year, with snow flurries in the air starting at lunchtime.

Christine actually walked Alex down the hall after French class. There was no pep rally because Coach Gordon had decided everyone should go home for a while to rest up, and as he had put it when asked to address a brief morning assembly, “If we need a pep rally to get up for this game, something’s wrong!”

Christine caught Alex walking out the door and fell into step with him.

“You think you’ll play tonight?” she asked.

“I got my usual snaps in practice, so I’d think so at some point,” he said. “It probably depends on how the game’s going. I’d love to go in with a big lead.”

“Not likely,” Christine said. “My dad talked to a couple of the high school writers at the paper. They say Chester’s very good.”

“That’s what Matt said. It’s a championship game. You can’t expect it to be easy.”

“Usually they’re much better in basketball,” she said. “It’s unusual for them to be this good in football.”

Alex had actually read a story in the
Inquirer
that morning saying much the same thing.

“Well, we’re not playing basketball tonight,” he said.

“You nervous?”

“Not yet. I suspect I will be later.”

“Especially if you play.”

He started to nod, then shook his head.

“Actually, no,” he said. “When you get in the game, your nerves disappear. Adrenaline takes over and you just play. I wasn’t nervous once during that King of Prussia game. Standing on the sidelines watching,
that
makes you nervous.”

“Well, I’ll be a little bit nervous watching from the press box tonight.”

“That’s nice of you,” he said. “I mean that.”

“Don’t get me wrong. I’d like to see you win because this is my school, so that’s part of it.”

“Part of it?” he asked.

She smiled. “If you guys win, I get to cover the playoffs for the
Inquirer
next week. One of their high school guys read some of my stories and recommended me as a stringer if we’re playing.”

“A stringer?”

“Someone who writes for the paper but doesn’t work for them full-time.”

“Well,” he said as they reached the steps where they went in different directions—she to the newspaper office, he to his locker—“here’s hoping you get to be a stringer next week.”

“Don’t ruin my career,” she said cheerily, turning and heading down the hallway.

They hadn’t really talked about the holiday dance since she had said she would go with him. And there hadn’t been much time at all for socializing the last couple of weeks. There had been midterms and football and that had pretty much been it. Still, it made him smile when he thought of going with her to the dance.

That, though, would come later. It was time to worry about a football game. One game to make or break a season.

It was snowing, lightly but steadily, when the game kicked off that night. It was by far the coldest Alex had felt standing on the sidelines, although he was not as miserable as he’d been in the rain at Main Line.

The stadium was packed, and people were standing in any open area they could find.

Alex knew from everything he had read that this was one of those rivalry games that old men talk about twenty, thirty, and forty years after playing in one. Chester was the so-called urban school, Chester Heights the suburban school. Translation: there were only fourteen African American players wearing the Lions’ red and white, and probably about the same number of white players in the white uniforms with the black pants representing Chester.

Chester Heights had won six of the last seven meetings
in football. Chester had won eleven in a row in basketball. So this was a chance for Chester to beat Chester Heights at its own game.

Coach Gordon reminded his team that they were now playing a “one-game season.”

“If you do your job tonight, you’ll have three more one-game seasons in the playoffs,” he said. “But none of that can happen if we don’t win this one.”

The first half was everything you might expect from such a game. Each team had one turnover that set up a touchdown for the other. Matt Gordon was bulling defenders over whenever he carried the ball, but he made a mistake on a play-action pass, overthrowing an open Jonas. One of Chester’s safeties grabbed the floating football and carried it to the Chester Heights 19. Matt came off beating himself up, apologizing to Jonas.

“I won’t miss that one again,” he promised him.

“I know you won’t,” Jonas said.

They went to the break tied at 7–7. If the thought of putting Alex in the game ever crossed Coach Gordon’s mind, he never said it or so much as looked at Alex.

But things changed after halftime. Somehow, Craig Josephs, who had one fumble all season, dropped a simple pitch midway through the third quarter and Chester recovered at the Lions’ 23. From there, it took them five plays to score and take the lead, 14–7, with 3:19 left in the third quarter.

As the defense trudged off the field following the extra point, Alex heard Coach Gordon barking his name.