Nazareth’s next ploy was to shift their defensive backs towards our motion. That might have worked, but Coach Diamond’s genius had been to add my ball-fake to the backside. When I saw them start to shift, I simply kept the ball. In high school, you didn’t want a guy like me to ever get past the line of scrimmage. I was six-four, weighed two hundred and fifteen pounds, and was just as fast as Ty. Their shift put them out of position, and I did my usual fake trot and then exploded into a full sprint.
The fans saw it before Nazareth did and started to roar, and the damned cowbells began to ring. Once I was past the line of scrimmage, it was all over. I was fast enough that none of their defenders could catch me. We were now up 14–9, and that was how the first half ended.
As we came off the field at halftime, it began to rain hard. When we got into the locker room, the coaches checked the weather on a tablet, and it looked like we were going to have to play in heavy rain. The hope was that there would be no more lightning, or there would be further delays.
Beginning the second half, the weather made things miserable. When you ran, water would actually splash up because it couldn’t soak in fast enough. All that water began to loosen up the turf, and the field became a mud pit. I have to applaud our fans for sticking with us through this. I’m not sure that I wouldn’t have bailed.
The net effect was the game came to a grinding halt. Neither team could move the football, and the wind gusts made each punt an adventure. It was on one of Nazareth’s punts when it got interesting. Ty was back to take it, and their punter boomed one that flew high, and then the wind caught it. Ty signaled for a fair catch and parked where it should land. Another gust caught it as it came down and Ty had to scramble to catch the football. A Nazareth defender was right in front of Ty. The ball hit Ty on the helmet and bounced into the arms of the defender. I don’t know who was more surprised, but the defender recovered and took off running. Ty tackled him as he scored to make it 16–14.
Late in the fourth quarter, the rain stopped, and the winds calmed down. Nazareth drove the ball and was able to add a field goal to make it 19–14.
There were just under four minutes left, and the game was in my hands. Coach Diamond told me to run the hurry-up offense and make the calls at the line. We had practiced this, and when I reached the huddle, everyone looked at me with confidence. They knew I would bring us back. I called the first play, and we lined up with me in the shotgun. Ty was at my side to help block or be my dump-off receiver if I got into trouble.
“Down. Set. Hut, HUT!”
It seemed Jim and Neil had figured out how to handle the two defensive ends. They fired off the ball and used their size and strength to get into their bodies. If our guys could get a block on them, the smaller defensive players didn’t stand a chance.
I scanned the field and saw Roc get muscled by their cornerback and pushed towards the sideline. He stumbled but gathered himself and took off. I hit him in stride as he outraced the defenders. Our crowd went nuts. I think they had built up their nervous energy and finally had an outlet. That was until we saw the yellow flag. The line judge said that Roc had stepped out of bounds and as such couldn’t be the first to touch the ball.
Coach Hope went insane. I’d never seen him this mad on a football field before. He reasoned that the defender had pushed Roc out and he had come right back into the field of play. Coach Zoon and Moose had to restrain Coach Hope, but he lost the argument.
Nazareth changed into a prevent defense to stop us from another long pass. I’d learned to not force a pass and just take what our opponents gave us. I worked us down the field to just inside the 20 yard line. With the short field, Nazareth pulled their prevent defense and changed back to their base defense. They decided to blitz me.
On the first play, I found myself with a linebacker in my face. I threw the ball to Ty, who had looped towards the sideline. He picked up five yards and ran out of bounds to save me from calling a time-out. We were now on the 15 yard line with just under a minute to go. We had all our time-outs, but I didn’t want to use any if I didn’t have to.
On the next play, Roc flashed across the formation ten yards downfield. He had a step on his defender, so I ripped a pass to him, but he dropped it. The next play I was forced to dump because it was either that or take a sack. It was now fourth down, and only thirty-two seconds left in the game. I could still get a first down if we picked up six yards.
We huddled up for the next play.
“We need to pick up the first down. Get out of bounds if you can, if not, everyone call time out.”
I called the play, and we lined up with grim determination.
“Down. Set. Hut, HUT!”
The play was designed for Roc and Wolf to streak into the end zone, and Ed and Jake would each do a shallow down-and-out. I planned to throw the ball to Jake because he had better hands than Ed did. Ty would sneak out and set up in the middle of the field.
On the snap, Neil slipped and let his defensive end loose. Luckily, he was in the direction I faced, so I saw him coming. I made a nifty little jink move and rolled out to give myself room to throw the ball. Wolf’s man had let him go, and they had Jake double-teamed. I threw a high ball to allow Wolf to go up and get it and he snagged it in the back of the end zone. The only problem was that his lead foot was on the line, and the back judge signaled he was out of bounds.
I wanted to throw up. We had just turned the ball over on downs with only twenty-three seconds on the clock. Yuri looked grim as I came off the field.
“Get the ball back,” I told him.
Nazareth and their fans started to celebrate. I stood tall to set an example to everyone. I wanted to go hide because I’d let everyone down. They needed to see that leadership wasn’t only when you won.
They got into victory formation where the quarterback would take the snap and kneel down to run the clock out. I was glad that we had saved our time-outs because we might get a chance to force a punt. We used all our time-outs. After three straight kneel-downs, there were twelve seconds left on the clock. I expected Nazareth would run their punter out. If they did punt, their punter would kick it from inside his own end zone. Coach Hope decided we would go for the block and see what happened.
I was surprised when Nazareth’s quarterback came back out. Coach Zoon ordered the defense back onto the field. In football, twelve seconds can seem like a lifetime. It looked like they planned to let their quarterback run around until time expired. Even if he were tackled in the end zone and gave up a safety, we would only score two points, and they would still win.
On the snap, we chased after him. He avoided Johan and Wolf, and I watched in horror as the seconds ticked off. It looked like he planned to run out the back of the end zone. Yuri was almost there when the gun sounded. I took a deep breath and accepted our defeat. Yuri reached out to shake hands with the quarterback to offer his congratulations. The quarterback began to dance in celebration and tossed the ball to Yuri as a final ‘screw you’ gesture. Yuri caught it, and the referee raised his hands in the touchdown signal.
“Oh, my dear Lord!” I screamed as I realized we had just won 20–19.
It took a moment for everyone to recognize what had just happened. Nazareth’s quarterback had neither downed the ball nor gone out of bounds. It was still a live ball, even after time expired. Yuri didn’t understand what he’d done until I tackled him in the end zone. The rest of our team wasn’t far behind.
Someone had filmed the final sequence, and it became a YouTube sensation. The body language of Nazareth Academy had gone from absolute euphoria to confusion to devastation. Ours was just the opposite. It was like watching someone hit a full-court shot to win a basketball game. I felt terrible that we never had a chance to shake Nazareth Academy’s hands. They had been a worthy opponent that had taken us to the final gun. Our celebration must have upset them because they ran off the field before we could do the postgame ritual.