One for the Ages

Chapter 59

2005-11-09T04:49:00.000-08:00

Cole stepped outside to get some fresh air. The other coaches were making some adjustments. The fact this season was so close to over and that there was no tomorrow for these boys hit him hard. He couldn’t believe this year almost did not happened. Cole was so glad now he had not resigned during the summer.

He had a new belief in himself and a group of teenaged boys that had been lagging over the last few years. It was hard for him, realizing this was the last time he would have the opportunity to coach many of these boys who meant so much to him.

Cole did not want them to go out this way, for sure. His players deserved better and he was determined to make it happen, somehow and someway.

He heard the whooping, hollering and pounding going on inside the locker room and knew his guys were ready. They had not played like they were capable during the first half and wanted to turn things around.

Now it would be different, Cole decided. His guys might not win this game, but Anson would know it was in a game.

The Panthers came tearing down the ramp, not looking anything like the shaken team from the first half.

Petros’ players jogged and stretched to get loosened up in the cold, then took the field. The Panthers would receive the ball to start the second half. It felt ten degrees cooler than it did at the end of the first half.

Clouds crowded the sky and the wind was getting stronger. Cole thought he wouldn’t be surprised if the weather got a little nasty and was rewarded with a snow flake, only a small one at first, soon followed by many others.

Everybody looked up at the sky, watching the snow flakes slowly drift to the ground. None of the Panthers had ever played in the snow before and decided this would be kind of neat. It might hurt their chances of coming back, but hopefully it would also slow down Hayes.

The whistle blew and Anson’s kicker slowly approached the ball and booted it. For some reason, it was the best kick of the night, carrying down to the 11 where Kenneth fielded it cleanly. He took his time, slowly going up the field, looking for holes to run through.

Nothing really opened up so he followed his blockers, reaching the 31 before getting brought down. The offense took the field. Lucky waited for his father to tell him to go out there, then strapped on his helmet and sprinted out on the field.

His ribs might be hurt, but that was the farthest thing from his mind right now.

He got the team lined up and quickly barked signals. The Panthers came out in the split back with two tight ends and one flanker. Lucky took the snap and faked the dive to D.J. The end went for Skip so Lucky followed in behind D.J., finding a small crease to slip through.

Lucky then cut back against the grain. During the first half, he noticed how hard the Rams pursued the ball and felt like there would be running room by cutting back against the gain. He decided to test his theory.

Anson’s players did not expect this and were caught out of position. Lucky ran past the linebackers and was in the secondary. The Rams recovered quickly, but not until Lucky gained 12 yards and picked up a first down.

Lucky called the same play to the right. The defensive end on that side crashed quickly and Lucky knew he needed to get rid of the ball.

It went just as planned. Lucky faked the ball to Skip and quickly pitched back to D.J., getting rid of the ball just before the end crashed into him. D.J. ran as fast as his legs would carry him, but only picked up five yards before Anson’s great speed caught him.

Lucky had noticed Anson’s defense was creeping closer, wanting to shut down the run. He decided to challenge them and called a play-action pass. The Panthers were going into a stiff wind and Lucky knew the pass would have to be hard and straight.

He faked a handoff to Skip and then rolled out. He waited as long as possible before throwing a pass to where Andy should be running. Lucky was hit just after throwing the ball and could not see the outcome. Hearing the crowd and seeing the people wearing black and white were excited, he knew the outcome was good. Andy caught the pass, for another good gain.

Lucky brought his team out in the shotgun, keeping Seth in the backfield. He took the snap and rolled out, trying to get away from the end on his blind side. He saw several players dressed in white trying to get open, but were closely followed by players wearing maroon jerseys.

Nobody was open so Lucky tucked the ball and took off, finding some room. He sprinted to pick up as many yards as possible, then stepped out of bounds when the Rams got close.

The Panthers came out in the shotgun again. Lucky looked across at the defense, saw the Rams were going to come hard and changed the play. Seth was sent in motion to the narrow side of the field, forcing one of the linebackers to follow him, lessening the number of players who could blitz.

It also opened a hole in the defense, one Lucky took advantage of as he took the snap, paused for a second and then took off up the middle on a quarterback draw. Anson was blitzing hard, but the Panthers opened a path up the middle by pushing the defenders to the side.

Lucky got a good block by Todd Benton, the left tackle, and thanks to the defensive backs running with the receivers and not looking back, had plenty of room. He reached Anson’s 23 before one of the safeties brought him down.

The Rams’ defense stiffened again at that point, stuffing running plays on first and second down for little yardage. Lucky’s pass on third down was broken up, leaving the Panthers facing fourth-and-eight. It looked like Petros would come up empty again, but Lucky would not settle for that.

Knowing Anson expected a pass, he brought his team up to the line in the usual offense. He got the snap quickly, not wanting the defense to have time to adjust. Lucky rolled out to the right, behind two pulling guards and both running backs.

Price House and Freddy Farmer, the two guards, both got good blocks, clearing a path for Lucky to cruise through behind D.J. and Skip.

D.J. wiped out the cornerback and Skip took care of a linebacker. Lucky broke free and headed for the first-down marker and more. Only one defender had a chance to stop him, the free safety. Lucky tried to juke him, but saw that would not work and lowered his head and ran over him.

He was tripped in the process, but already picked up the first down and fell to the ground at Anson’s 7.

Skip picked up four on a dive, almost squirting free and scoring. A handoff to Happy netted two more yards, moving the ball down to the one. D.J. was stood up on third down and brought down before reaching the previous line.

Now the Panthers were facing fourth-and-goal from just outside the one. Anson came out in a goal-line defense again, all eleven players crowding the line. This was a defense not used to giving up points and determined not to allow a score here.

But Petros was equally determined to get on the scoreboard. Lucky faked a dive to Skip, was forced farther out than he wanted, cut back inside, crashed into one of the linebackers and forced the Anson player back just enough to allow him to cross the goal line.

When the officials raised their hands, it was like the score gave Petros the championship, instead of cutting the lead to 35-6. Petros’ side went crazy, knowing there was still a long way to go but enjoying this touchdown like it was the biggest of the year.

Jeremy nailed the extra point then got to kick off for only the second time in the game. He boomed another kick that sailed down to the six. The returner reached the seventeen before getting smashed by Seth and Kenneth.

As the defense took the field, another roar went up from the Petros side, one that was not just for support of the defense. The players on both sides looked to the sidelines to see what was causing all the excitement.

Coming down the sideline from the locker room, dressed in full pads was Derwin. He had his helmet on and was jogging toward the coaches.

“I’m ready to go,” he told Cole.

“What about your nose?” his coach asked.

“I still got one.”

“But can you play?”

He turned around and looked at Doc Hardy for support.

“The doctor says it’s not smart but I can’t really hurt it much worse,” he responded.

Cole looked at the doctor, who held up his arms in a sign of disbelief.

“Do you have any idea how much it will hurt just to tackle somebody?” Cole asked.

“Not nearly as much as it does for me to watch them out there without me,” Derwin answered.

Cole looked at his senior, the nose heavily taped and the eyes swollen so much it would be hard to recognize him without the jersey.

“Okay, but if you have any problem we’re going to pull you,” Cole advised.

“Cool,” Derwin added, snapping the snaps on his helmet.

Anson was running its first play of the second half, another blast up the middle from Hayes. It was obvious something was different on this play. The Rams’ stud did not resemble the player who had a field day in the first half.

Hayes was running about half as hard as earlier, almost like an injury was slowing him down.

He only picked up three yards before getting brought down, not fighting for extra yardage.

Ichabod was the first to say it.

“He’s running scared now,” he mentioned.

“Lucky’s hit took something outta him,” Stub added.

“Good,” Cole commented, then sent in Derwin, causing a wild roar from the Petros side.

His teammates watched the senior sprint out on the field, never expecting to see this after the way Derwin looked earlier in the game.

“It’s time to knock some heads boys,” he told his teammates in the huddle.

Murray was sent on a blitz on second down as Ichabod nailed the call. Murray was in the backfield and hit Hayes almost before he got the pitch on a sweep play.

Hayes tried to pull away, but went down quickly just as some other Panthers arrived.

“He doesn’t want the ball anymore,” Stub stated loudly. “After he got popped that one time, it took all the steam out of his engine.”

The Rams tried to burn Petros long on third down as all the receivers took off on a fly pattern. The quarterback faked a handoff to Hayes, who got rewarded with another big hit from Tim Treadway. As the quarterback retreated, he never saw what was coming.

His split end broke free and the quarterback started to unleash the pass. But just as his arm started forward, Derwin hit him going full speed, forcing the ball to flutter to the ground and the quarterback to fly backwards, his feet going over his head.

Petros had actually stopped this potent offense and would get the ball back. Anson’s punting team was not that great since they rarely got to practice this year.

Cole sent the boys after the kick, expecting to either block it or force a shank. The Panthers were bringing ten guys after the punt, only leaving Kenneth back deep. The snap was a little low but was fielded cleanly.

The punter then started through his routine, taking two steps then dropping the ball. Before his foot and the ball collided, Harry burst through the right side and was practically on top of the punter.

He didn’t even have to dive to block the kick, but did so anyway, just to be safe. The ball collided with his midsection and bounced off the side.

After blocking the kick, Harry’s momentum carried him in to the kicker, hitting him so hard it forced the punter to flip backwards.

Stewart Andrews chased the ball down and fell on it at the nine, giving Petros great field position and completely turning the momentum around.

The Panthers celebrated the turn of events, never expecting this to happen after the way the first half had gone.

The offense came back out on the field with renewed energy. On the first play, Lucky faked a handoff to D.J. and went around the end on a bootleg. The fake fooled the defense, especially the end on that side, and Lucky was able to reach the two before getting escorted to the ground.

A handoff to Happy moved the ball just inches from the score. As the Anson defense tried to encourage each other to stop this threat, the Panthers came to the line, the backs loading up the wishbone.

Lucky faked a handoff to Happy, then turned and gave the ball to Skip, who followed in behind D.J., found a small opening and slipped into the end zone.

Still trailing by 21 points, it was hard to say the Panthers were back in the game, but the turn of events had certainly encouraged the Petros contingent.

The players also celebrated, getting a little out of control until the coaches reminded them there was still a lot of time left. Cole was also tempted to remind them of the score and how they didn’t really have a lot to celebrate yet, but changed his mind, wanting the boys to enjoy the moment.

Lucky was stretching on the sidelines, wanting to keep loose. All the pain had either gone away or he just wasn’t thinking about it with the game going on. He still did not feel a hundred percent, but even with some pain, it was not going to keep him from this.

Jeremy’s leg must have started to tire a little, his kick only reaching the 12 this time. Kenneth caught the returner at the 21, grabbed him by the jersey and threw him to the ground.

The rest of the defense sprinted out on the field, getting a new burst of energy after the two touchdowns and the stop on the last series.

Wayman Hayes was the last player to take the field for Anson, not really looking like he wanted to return.

The Rams got out of the huddle quickly. The quarterback took the snap and handed off to Hayes again. There was a small hole but just as he turned on the speed, Lucky came flying in and delivered a blow that made the earlier one look like a gentle hit.

Lucky put everything he had into the hit. Hayes did not see it coming until right before the collision, only getting to cringe and close his eyes before getting drilled.

Hayes was not used to getting hit like this and decided it was not something he liked. He was lying on his back before realizing anybody had hit him. He slowly rose to a knee, wondering why his head felt so funny.

His teammates tried helping him but Hayes was not ready. Just before the referee called an injury timeout, Hayes rose to his feet and slowly started walking back to the huddle, his legs all wobbly.

The Panthers did not want a member of the opposing team hurt, of course, but celebrated the hit. After the two hits by Lucky, Hayes looked like he thought the bench was pretty inviting. He slowly jogged off the field, wondering why stars were in his eyes.

A trap play to the fullback only picked up two yards. It was third and six for the first down. Anson would have to go without Hayes, who had pulled off his helmet and sat on the bench, drinking cups of Gatorade as fast as possible, the steam rising off his head.

For the Rams, it was one of the few times in the game they faced a difficult situation on third down. With Hayes out, there was no question on what was coming. Anson’s quarterback faked a handoff as he dropped back, fooling nobody.

The Panthers were blitzing, finding gaps in the blocks and putting pressure on the quarterback. Tim Treadway was the first to arrive, grabbing hold of the quarterback’s jersey and refusing to let go.

Derwin soon followed, disregarding his broken nose and the pain, to lay a smack on the quarterback, knocking both Treadway and the Anson player to the ground.

The Rams were forced to punt again. Cole decided to gamble again and went after the punt. The Panthers missed the block, allowing the punter to get off a long spiral that went way over Kenneth’s head and eventually rolled out of bounds on Petros’ 24.

Petros’ offense rushed out on the field, hoping to cut the gap even further.

This time, the Rams rose to the occasion, stopping two running plays then forcing Lucky to throw the ball away on third down. Cole hated to do it, but knew a punt was in order. There was still plenty of time as three minutes were left in the quarter, but the Panthers could not afford to get stopped again.

Jeremy’s punt was a poor one, going off the side of his foot and sailing out of bounds on the Petros 47.

Hayes was the first one to run back on the field, apparently healthy after the earlier hit. He did not break any long runs on this drive, but did run like he had earlier, not showing any signs of tiptoeing with the ball.

The Rams just shoved the ball down Petros’ throat, a slow drive that ate up a lot of precious time. The Panthers tried everything but could not stop Anson. Hayes capped off the drive on the last play of the third quarter, scoring from the three on a blast up the middle.

Skip broke through on the conversion, blocking the extra point. The score now was 41-14 and things looked bleak for the Panthers.

Petros’ players were down, realizing the game was probably out of reach now. Lucky walked the sidelines, trying to keep everybody pumped up and assuring them they could overcome this. He knew it would be hard, but felt like the game was not over.

The kickoff was a low line drive this time, bouncing between Skip and Kenneth and rolling into the end zone for a touchback.

Petros’ fans stood and cheered loudly as the Panthers took the field. The offense lined up on the ball in a spread formation, only using Lucky and Seth in the backfield.

Lucky took the snap and rolled to his right, looking for an open receiver. The Rams had good coverage again, not letting any receiver break free. Since nobody was open, Lucky took off, hoping to get close to a first down before running out of bounds to stop the clock.

One of the Rams dove at him and grabbed his leg but Lucky shook free and continued down the field. None of the defensive backs realized what was happening and were still covering the receivers. Lucky saw he was going to be able to pick up more than just a first down and turned on the speed, heading for the sidelines and the open area.

The defensive backs finally saw him running free and started pursuing him. The receivers turned to blockers and did their best to keep Lucky’s run going. Anson’s players were going after him hard, trying to get away from the pesky receivers trying to interfere.

As Lucky crossed midfield, one of the Anson defensive backs closed in on him. At the last second, Lucky cut back, leaving the Anson player with nothing to tackle but air. The Rams had help coming, though. Despite his good speed, Lucky felt like a turtle racing rabbits.

They were coming fast, four defenders closing in. All the other Panthers were left behind, so Lucky was by himself. He felt and heard the Rams behind him. Lucky knew one of the defenders was fixing to dive at him, so he again shifted, going to the outside as the Anson player dove at where Lucky would have been.

There were forty yards left and three defenders trying to pin him in. Lucky was getting out of breath because of the long run and the cold air, chugging along with everything he had but knowing the gas tank was going dry.

Two Anson players reached out for him, trying to grab his jersey. Lucky cut back across the field, shaking free of the Rams’ grasp. He gained a little more time, but the other Anson player was running along beside him, looking for the chance to bring him down.

Lucky knew his chances to outrun the opponent was slim so he did what his best friend would do in the situation. Instead of avoiding the player, Lucky went right after him, delivering a stiff-arm blow and followed by lowering his head and flattening the Anson player.

He was surprised to see it work. That left the two players who had grasped his jersey. They were on him again as Lucky tried to run away from them. The Rams had recovered and were fixing to grab him when they suddenly disappeared.

Lucky had no idea what happened and was scared to turn around, expecting to see them ready to pounce on him. He did not turn around until crossing the goal line. Lucky saw what had happened and was not surprised.

Skip had caught up and as the two Rams started to tackle Lucky, he wiped them out with one block. The three players were tangled up on the ground, Skip raising both arms to celebrate the touchdown.

Lucky smiled as he kneeled, trying to get some air back. The run wore him out and he waited for some help to get back to his feet. His teammates arrived and picked him up, helping him to get to the bench.

As he sat down, Lucky heard the Petros fans cheer again as Jeremy’s kick split the uprights.

It was now 41-21, still a long road to go but one that was not out of reach.

Cole met with his coaches as soon as the kick sailed through the uprights.

“We’re gonna have to try an onside kick,” he told them. “But you know they’re gonna be expecting it.”

“They might not line up for it if we show our regular formation,” Stub suggested. “I know it’s reaching, but you never know.”

“We can’t let them have the ball again if we expect to get back in this game,” Lloyd stated.

Ichabod gave Lloyd a dirty look, but could not say anything, knowing it was true, even while it was painful.

“Okay, that’s what we’ll do,” Cole decided.

He gathered the kickoff team around him and made sure everybody was paying attention.

“Line up like it is a regular kickoff,” he ordered. “But I want Jeremy to kick an onside kick out of our regular formation, just like we’ve done before. Jeremy, just kick the ball straight ahead. Derwin and Happy will be on both sides of you and will wipe out whoever Anson has lined up there. Then we should be able to get the ball. Any questions?”

Nobody volunteered so the kicking team went back out on the field, the snow increasing in intensity and starting to cover the field. Anson’s return team watched how Petros lined up and since the Panthers were aligned for a regular kick, the Rams went with their usual formation.

Cole was almost giddy on the sideline, knowing this would work even before Jeremy kicked the ball. He did see Anson had mostly receivers and backs on the front line, but Cole doubted that would matter if Jeremy did what he was supposed to do.

The official blew his whistle. Jeremy raised his right arm for a brief second while looking around to make sure everybody was ready, then lowered it and started toward the ball, his teammates moving forward with him.

Jeremy looked like he was going to knock the crud out of the ball until he got on top of it. He slowed just a little bit and basically nudged the ball forward, sending it rolling end-over-end toward the center man on the front wall of Anson’s return team.

The Anson player’s eyes looked like he had the deer-caught-in-the-headlights look. He tried to watch the ball and move forward to recover it, but saw two Petros players bearing down on him at the same time. Before he reached the ball, Derwin and Happy hit him, both at the same time and going full speed. They plowed over him, leaving him flattened like a steamroller just went over.

The other Panthers were more concerned with taking out an Anson player, hitting them before they got near the ball. Jeremy followed along behind the bouncing ball, waiting for it to go ten yards. Finally, it crossed midfield and he fell on it. The ball squirted free for a brief instant, but he grabbed it and pulled it back before the Rams arrived.

He quickly got to his feet, holding the ball so everybody could see it. He ran to the sidelines, the ball held high in the air as his teammates congratulated him and the Petros fans went wild.

The Anson players looked at each other in confusion, wondering what happened to the expected rout. Everything looked so promising until the last minute or so. These opponents would not give up, like most of the other teams did when they got down.

Lucky and the Panthers came out in the shotgun with four receivers spread wide. During the break after the touchdown, Lloyd told his brother that Kenneth was getting open, and Lucky remembered to watch for him.

The snap was a little low but fielded cleanly. Lucky rolled out to the wide side, seeing Anson’s defense was not going to let him get outside, or run without somebody there to stop him.

Lucky’s first two choices were covered. He then looked for Kenneth cutting across the middle. It wasn’t much of a distance between the receiver and the defensive back, but was the best Lucky found. He fired a bullet while on the run, leading Kenneth enough the defensive back could not break up the pass.

Kenneth caught the ball in stride, but was quickly brought down. The play moved Petros to Anson’s 38. Lucky noticed Anson was dropping so many players into coverage that a draw play should work so he called the play at the line, seeing Seth look at him like it was not the best call of the game.

Lucky took the snap, rolled to his right and placed the ball in Seth’s belly. Seth looked for a gap and found it over the left side. The linebacker on that side recovered quickly and came after him, but Seth easily sidestepped the Anson defender and broke into the secondary.

The Rams quickly swarmed over him and brought him down, but not before he reached the 26, giving Petros another first down.

The clock stopped for the first down, but only until the chains got set. Lucky called the play at the line, seeing precious seconds go off the clock. His attention must have been on the clock because the snap caught him unprepared, the ball hitting him on the helmet and bouncing backwards.

Lucky quickly recovered the bouncing ball, but was pinned in and brought down back at the 36-yard line, a setback the Panthers could not afford. Anson’s defenders were in no hurry to get up and Lucky had to fight free. His teammates lined up quickly, but the clock seemed to be on fast forward.

That was a dumb move, Lucky realized, hoping it would not cost his team more than a few yards. He called the play, ready to let Andy try and burn the defense on the lob.

He took the snap and looked to his right, trying to keep the defense from overplaying Andy. Lucky waited several seconds before shifting shifted his attention to Andy, finding him running alongside one of the cornerbacks.

This was one of the few times two players had not covered him. Lucky gauged the distance and threw a high pass in that direction, letting Andy run under it. Both players were going for the ball, trying to use their body to prevent the other from getting an advantage. Andy had the best advantage, though, about six inches in height and long arms.

He waited for the right moment and leaped high in the air, going almost a full foot above the defender. Andy snatched the ball out of the air and brought it to his body, never giving the Anson player a chance to knock it free.

He was wrestled down quickly, falling to the snow-covered ground at the 11. The Panthers quickly rushed down the field and lined up, waiting for the officials to let them play. Lucky looked across the field and saw something that really surprised him.

The Rams were worn out. All the players were gasping for air, bent over and looking to the sideline for help. He quickly realized the reason for this. Anson’s players were used to being on the bench a long time prior to this and were not used to playing so much.

It was business as usual for the Panthers, however, and their players were not the least bit tired. This was the best-selling point Lucky could think about for conditioning. It was actually a little funny to see a team that dead tired with almost seven minutes left in the game.

Lucky called for the snap. It was perfect this time. Skip and Kenneth ran a crossing route to the right and Lucky waited to see if either broke free.

Skip did, cutting to the outside. Lucky fired a pass in that direction. At first, he thought it was going to sail over his receiver’s head. But Skip turned the speed up a little and caught the pass with his hands high in the air. He was brought down at the 2, setting up second and one.

The Panthers lined up in the split-back offense with Skip and D.J. at running back and Lucky under center. He took the snap and handed off to Skip going straight ahead. The Rams’ defense might be wore out, but they rose to the occasion on this play, shoving Skip back before he got back to the line.

Anson’s players again took their time, waiting for the officials to force them to get up. Cole took advantage of the long time between plays to rush Happy out on the field to take Andy’s spot. He lined up at fullback with Skip and D.J. at his side.

Lucky called the play, took the snap and handed off to Happy following behind Skip. There wasn’t really any room and no visible hole, but Happy made his own, pushing the line back until he almost reached the goal line.

It gave Petros a first down, just inches from the score. But too much time was going by, the clock already inside five minutes and counting.

Everybody finally unpiled and the Panthers lined up again. Both the other backs had tried and came up short so Lucky decided to give D.J. a try, running behind the two other backs. It worked as D.J. took advantage of good blocking and dove in for the score.

The Panthers celebrated as the officials raised their arms. The extra point was good again, leaving the score 41-28.

This time, there wasn’t any doubt as to what the Panthers had to do. It would be an onside kick, everybody in the stadium knew it. Petros came out with most of the players bunched on the left side of the field. Jeremy lined up at the far hash mark with three other players on the far side of him.

Everybody in the stadium was standing, not believing the turn of events. Some people had already left and would get a shock when they heard what they missed.

Jeremy slowly approached the ball and kicked it near the top, forcing the ball to hit the ground once then bounce high. A mass of players moved toward the ball, still high in the air. There was a mad scramble, a huge pile of bodies fighting for the ball.

Originally, one of the Anson players fielded the ball, but was hit and the ball squirted free. In the bottom of the pile, players were fighting to get control of the ball.

The officials slowly untangled the bodies, working their way to the bottom of the mass of humanity. Two officials were on their knees on the snowy ground, looking into the pile. One official found what he was looking for and turned to the other to confirm his findings.

The first official stood and pointed at the Petros side, letting everybody know Anson had recovered the ball and had possession.

Cole felt like somebody had just punched him in the gut. He knew his players felt that way, also, but could not let them get down. The Panthers still had all three time outs and if they stopped the Rams, there was still plenty of time.

Petros huddled close to the ball. Derwin looked around at the faces of his teammates and did not like what he saw.

“Hey, get it up!” he shouted. “We’ve still got plenty of time. We can’t be pouting or feeling sorry for ourselves. It’s time to rise to the occasion. We’ll stop them here and get the ball back. Okay?”

The other members of the defense felt their spirits rising.

But now it was time for him to rise up and stop the Rams. The Panthers could not give up a first down or the game was over. Derwin blitzed on first down, knowing the Rams would hand off to Hayes right up the middle. It went just as expected and Derwin fought through the center and the fullback to capture the Anson running back in the backfield for a loss of two.

This time, Derwin made sure to hold on, not just plaster him. His teammates arrived quickly but were not needed. Anson now faced second and twelve. The Panthers quickly called a timeout, not wanting any more time to go by.

Ichabod called his defense to the sideline. He expected the Rams to run a sweep to the far side and passed on the information to the black shirts.

Looking at the faces, he saw his players were going strictly on adrenaline. They looked so tired, but Ichabod knew they were not ready to call it a day.

It was the right call again. Anson ran a sweep to the far side. Stewart Andrews read it correctly and played it perfectly. He sprinted up the field at an angle, cutting Hayes off and forcing the running back to cut back.

Derwin was waiting for him again, hitting the Anson back hard, standing Hayes up then wrestling him to the ground for a loss of three.

The Panthers called another quick timeout. Anson faced third and fifteen now, but nobody expected a pass, knowing that would stop the clock if incomplete and the Rams had not shown the ability to pass.

Ichabod instructed the defense to watch out for the pass, not wanting to give up a big play. But he was a lot more worried about a draw to either the quarterback or Hayes.

As the ball was about to be snapped, Derwin realized this might be the last play he ever played for Petros’ defense. He decided it better be one to remember.

As the quarterback took the ball, Derwin watched the backfield’s motion, trying to read the play. He saw the quarterback drop back and knew it was going to be a draw, just didn’t know if it would be Hayes or the quarterback.

Derwin saw Hayes slide to one side and try to block, making it clear the quarterback would carry the ball if it was a draw. He threw all caution away and went full speed into the backfield, finding a small crease between the center and the guard, both too busy blocking a lineman to see him coming.

The quarterback had just stopped and started forward when a big blur appeared before him, hitting him so hard he collapsed to the ground, barely holding on to the ball.

He had never been hit like that before and did not want to experience it again. The quarterback knew how close he came to fumbling, and just hoped nobody else knew. As he staggered up, the defensive players looked to the bench to see if the coaches wanted a time out, but they told him no.

His teammates were mobbing Derwin on the field, knowing he had just stopped one of the best offenses in the state, practically by himself. Cole had always been proud of his linebacker, but his appreciation reached a new level. Not many players would come back after breaking a nose. Cole doubted any other player would play as well as Derwin had with that injury, either.

Cole also knew there was a good chance that was the last play Derwin would play on defense and of all the seniors, his linebacker would be missed the most.

Cole hugged Derwin as he came off the field and the fans gave him a loud ovation.

Derwin paid no attention to the crowd, didn’t even realize the noise was for him. He took a knee on the sideline and took off his helmet.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up. The steam was rising off his head in the cold night, making it look like he was on fire.

“You’re a stud,” Ichabod said. “I just wanted to let you know that.”

Derwin smiled as his defensive coordinator walked away. He had been called a lot of things over the years, “stud” not one of them.

Back on the field, the Panthers lined ten players up to go after the punt. This would be one time when Petros cared less about setting up a return. The only player not coming after the punter was Kenneth, who was stationed thirty yards down the field, hoping the ball never made it to him.

Anson adjusted the formation, bringing all the players in close to try and keep the Panthers from blocking the punt. The snap was perfect and the punter got the kick away quickly, not wanting to take any chance the Panthers blocked it.

It wasn’t the best punt of the night, but also wasn’t blocked so the Rams were happy. Kenneth watched the ball go to the far side of the field and watched it roll away from him while pursuing it.

He failed to get there in time and the ball rolled out of bounds on the Petros 37.

There was just under three minutes left as Petros’ offense took the field, trailing by thirteen points. Without any timeouts, the Panthers could not waste any time. Petros lined up in the shotgun with four wideouts.

Lucky barked the signals and received the snap. He looked one way and then turned back to the other. It was his plan to go with Andy until the defense stopped him and that was what he did, firing a pass in his direction.

Andy ran a fade pattern and got a step on the defender. The pass was a little to his side and he barely caught up to it before the ball sailed out of bounds. He snagged the pass, got a few more yards then went out of bounds to stop the clock.

It was a gain of fifteen, putting the Panthers in Anson territory at the 48. The offense huddled and Lucky called the play. The offense broke the huddle and hurried to the line. He took the snap and looked to his left, then back to his right. Andy was running a slant pattern and was open again.

Lucky fired a pass in that direction, hitting Andy in the stomach with the pass. It was good for nine yards, not enough to get a first down and stop the clock. Lucky was angry for the mistake, knowing that it would cost his team time.

Anson’s players were slow to get up, as expected, taking as much time as possible as the clock again seemed to be in fast-forward mode. The officials tried to hurry things along but did not get much help. Finally, Andy escaped and made his way to his position, lining up as his teammates had already done.

Lucky had already called the play and got the snap off quickly. He rolled to his left, found some running room and took off. He gained enough for the first down easily and was tackled at the 34, not getting out of bounds before the Rams brought him down.

The clock stopped for the chains, but would start again quickly. Lucky switched the receivers, putting the three wideouts on the wide side, keeping Andy on this side.

After everybody was set and he relayed the play, Lucky called for the snap and caught the ball, never seeing what was coming. He was so intent on making sure everybody had lined up right that Lucky never saw the Rams coming with a blitz.

He was caught flat footed, didn’t even have time to scramble or throw the ball away before two Rams were on top of him, grabbing him and throwing Lucky to the ground.

The impact of the ground caused his body to remind him of the injury to his ribs. He had not hurt since taking the field, but that had changed. Lucky slowly got to his feet, his ribs screaming out in protest from the hit.

He got the team lined up and looked at the clock, not liking what it showed. There were less than two minutes left and the Panthers faced second and fourteen. Lucky called for the ball, trying to ignore the pain.

The snap was a little low and he had to reach down to retrieve it. He was in a lot of pain now, grimacing with every move. Lucky took the snap and rolled to his right, the pain almost more than he could take.

Nobody was open and the only thing he could do was tuck the ball and run. Lucky knew this was not the best thing to do in his condition, but could not do anything about it. He ran to the 35, then cut back across the field. Anson’s players were on him and finally caught him at the 29, putting a little more effort into the hit than usual.

He did not take a direct hit to his ribs, but just the impact of the hit rattled his body and impacted his sore ribs, making them hurt even worse. It was all he could do to get to his feet and walk back to the backfield, bent over on one side and holding his side.

“You okay?” Seth asked.

“I’ll live,” Lucky responded.

“Gimme the ball,” the running back pleaded.

“What?”

“Hand me the ball. They aren’t paying any attention to me.”

Lucky knew this was not the perfect call in this situation, but hoped Seth knew what he was talking about. He did. The play was wide open from the start as Seth found a huge hole as the Rams blitzed from the outside.

The Rams’ defensive backs could not respond until Seth was inside the 15, bringing him down at the 13.

Lucky looked at the clock, seeing there was now just a minute and some change. The Panthers needed to score fast. They had wasted too much time already. He called the play at the line and looked over at Andy, getting a nod in reply.

The snap was perfect. Lucky looked to the far side, even faked a throw to keep the defense confused. Then, he looked back to the other side and saw Andy running alongside the defensive back. Lucky threw the ball in that direction, an ugly duck that wobbled as it cut through the sky.

The pass was badly under thrown, forcing Andy to stop and come back. It caught the defensive back off guard and he could not recover so Andy was all by himself as the ball came down on the 1. He hugged the ball to his chest and fell back into the end zone.

Petros’ players and fans again went nuts, jumping up and down, hugging each other and making a huge racket. The Anson side was silent, like it was at a funeral.

The kicking team quickly came out on the field for the PAT. The snap was low, bouncing before it got to Kenneth. He had trouble getting the ball down, barely putting the nose of the ball on the ground before Jeremy planted his foot.

With the timing all off, Jeremy missed his spot, hitting the ball way too high and never getting it above the line. The kick was blocked, not that it would have been good anyway. It was now 41-34 with under a minute left.

There was a loud groan, but Cole did not worry about it. The Panthers still had to recover an onside kick, score another touchdown and then try the extra point, all in less than a minute. He had little faith in onside kicks, knowing the percentage to recover them when an opponent expected them were small.

Cole racked his brain, trying to come up with some idea of what to do. The kickoff team was gathered in front of him, waiting for his direction, when the thought hit him. Yes, the Panthers would line up as they were kicking an onside kick, but that was where the similarity would end.

He relayed his instructions to his team, a look of confusion forming on the faces of many of his players. Lucky was not on the kickoff team, but was listening. This would be a strange way to try and recover the ball, he knew, but it pretty much beat anything else they could think of.

The kickoff team ran out on the field, the Petros fans standing and applauding. Anson’s return team took the field from the opposing side, quickly lining up in a formation designed to recover onside kicks. The Panthers lined up in their onside kick formation with most of the players on Jeremy’s left.

The umpire made sure to instruct Jeremy to wait for his whistle and that the ball had to go ten yards before the Panthers could recover.

It will go ten yards, Jeremy thought, knowing that was not anything anybody had to worry about. Hopefully, it would not wind up that far, though.

The crowd was on its feet and the players on the sidelines all edged forward, knowing this play would go a long way toward determining the state champion. The referee blew his whistle and the umpire told Jeremy to proceed.

He paused for just a second, then advanced on the ball. This was the first time he tried a kick like this, but did not feel like it should be too hard. His eyes were focused on the middle of the ball, hoping to hit it there, as hard as possible.

None of the Rams realized anything was different until Jeremy kicked the ball. Only when the ball did not take a big bounce and come toward them did they figure out something was wrong. By that time, they did not have time to react.

Jeremy’s kick was low and hard, designed to blast into one of the players before he could react and hopefully bounce back toward the Panthers, who were advancing slowly.

That was exactly what happened. The football flew into one of the player’s facemask before he reacted. The ball bounced back at a slight angle toward the Panthers. Harry was able to grab the ball and fall on it.

There was quiet for a few seconds, everybody in a state of shock. This was definitely not what they expected. Even Cole could not have hoped it worked this way. As the Petros side realized what happened and the Panthers had the ball, a loud roar erupted, everybody grabbing each other, jumping up and down and screaming.

Suddenly, it was just not that cold anymore, even though the temperatures had dropped into the mid-teens.

Lucky tried to keep his calm, but his emotions going crazy. He wanted to jump up and down and scream like everybody else, but knew this was not the time. The Panthers recovered the ball and had a chance, but he would not celebrate until they scored and won the game.

Cole grabbed his son before he took the field.

“We’ve got plenty of time,” Cole advised, looking up at the huge scoreboard. “We have a timeout but try not to use it unless it’s an emergency. The receivers have got to catch the ball and get out of bounds. Don’t throw anything less than enough yards for a first down unless your receiver is wide open and has plenty of room to run.

“This is our time,” he added, putting his arm around Lucky and squeezing. “Take advantage of it.”

Lucky nodded and jogged out on the field, followed by his teammates. Everybody in the bleachers stood, the nerves on end. This was beyond anything they could imagine.

The offense lined up in the shotgun again. Lucky had three receivers to his right, two to his left this time. He called the signals and took the snap. Four of the receivers went deep, carrying the secondary with them.

Harry was lined up just outside the left tackle. He slipped across the field, none of the secondary bothering to cover him. Lucky waited for Harry to clear the linebackers then lobbed a pass in his direction.

The pass was a little high so Harry had to leap and grab it. He had plenty of running room, heading toward the sidelines so he could get out of bounds and stop the clock. None of the Rams could stop him until he reached the Anson 39, giving Petros a first down.

Lucky looked at the clock, seeing there were only 39 seconds remaining, which was appropriate. He decided the Panthers needed to gain at least one yard for every second left, which would move them into the end zone.

Petros lined up quickly again, four receivers on the left side of the field. Anson’s secondary was playing deep, giving the Petros receivers almost ten yards of cushion.

Lucky got the snap and fired a quick pass to Andy, who caught the pass and quickly went out of bounds. It was good for a gain of eight yards, taking only four seconds.

The Panthers came out in the same formation. Anson’s secondary realized there was too much cushion and moved forward, cutting it down to five yards. As Lucky looked over the secondary and the lone linebacker, he saw one of the defensive backs cheating forward, as was the linebacker.

Lucky knew a blitz was coming. This would leave Skip open, if there was enough time to get the pass off. The snap was a little low, forcing Lucky to hurry. He did not see the players coming, but felt the pressure.

With everybody converging on him, Lucky could not see Skip, only knew where he should be. The Petros quarterback threw the ball in that direction, barely getting it away before two Rams made a sandwich out of him.

All the air was knocked out of him and he slumped to the ground, the pain returning in full force. The two Anson players made sure to put a little extra into in and escorted Lucky to the ground, falling on top of him.

As Lucky lay on the ground, gasping for air, he heard the Petros side roar. The two Rams slowly got off him and Lucky raised his head, looking down the field. He saw had Skip had caught the pass and made it far down the field before getting tackled.

Danny Wall helped Lucky up and escorted him down the field.

“You okay?” Danny asked.

“I’m great,” Lucky answered, but knew that did not sound very convincing.

The pain was almost too much to stand. He was still having trouble breathing and felt like somebody was hitting his side with a baseball bat. But Lucky refused to give in to the pain, would not hold his ribs or show anything was wrong.

Petros was already lined up when Lucky and Danny arrived. The officials had blown the whistle and the clock started even before Lucky called the play. The seconds were ticking away, much too fast for the Panthers.

Danny’s snap was perfect this time. Lucky looked for Andy on the fade but saw he was covered by two Anson players. Skip was covered also, so Lucky looked for Kenneth or Harry. Neither player was open so Lucky rolled out to his right, to the wide side.

The line was doing a good job holding off the Anson players, giving Lucky time to scan the field. He knew his time was limited, however, and hoped somebody got open quick. Finally, Lucky saw Harry angling toward the side, having gained a couple of steps with a good fake.

Lucky fired the pass, getting it to Harry right on the sideline, two yards short of the end zone. A defensive back quickly knocked him out of bounds, preventing the touchdown. The clock was stopped with only eleven seconds remaining.

The Panthers huddled. Lucky wasn’t sure what formation his team should be in and looked to the sideline. His father was talking to Happy, giving him a play to bring in. This meant the Panthers would abandon the shotgun and go with the wishbone, which was fine with Lucky.

Happy rushed to the huddle and relayed the call. Lucky then gave the rest of the offense the call and formation.

The Panthers came to the line with two tight ends and three running backs. Anson quickly changed its defense, moving players closer to the line. Lucky did not wait for the defense to get settled, of course, taking advantage of the confusion by getting a quick snap.

He faked a handoff to Happy up the middle, spun around and placed the ball in Skip’s belly, waited for just a second, then rolled out in that direction. Anson’s defensive end did not take the fake, staying at home with his eyes fixed on Lucky.

Lucky tried to get outside the defensive end, but quickly discovered that wasn’t going to happen. The end continued pushing him farther outside. Lucky had planned to run the ball, but did have the option of running or passing. With the defensive end about to tackle him, Lucky looked into the end zone and saw what he hoped to see.

Anthony Hart had faked a block, waited two counts before drifting back toward the corner of the end zone. One of the linebackers was in front of him, going after Lucky while the cornerback on that side tried to recover in time to cover Anthony.

Lucky lobbed the pass over the cornerback sprinting toward Anthony. The pass was actually a little high, forcing Anthony to vault. Lucky was sure the pass was going to sail out of the end zone when he saw Anthony jump high in the air, grab the ball with his hands and bring it down, just short of the back line and before the cornerback crashed into him.

The back judge rushed over to where the two players were tangled together. He leaned down, moved around a second then saw what he was looking for. He stood straight and threw his arms high above his head.

Lucky was sitting down, but when he saw the official’s reaction, the celebration started. Lucky fell back down and threw his arms up, making his hands into fists and pumping them. This was more than he hoped for, undoubtedly the best comeback Lucky had ever been part of or seen.

He celebrated for just a second, then got to his feet and rushed into the end zone to join his teammates congratulating Anthony.

Lucky looked to the sideline and saw his father motioning for a timeout. He turned to the nearest official and asked for time. After the official granted his wish, Lucky rounded up his teammates and ran to the sideline.

The other players and coaches were waiting for them, offering congratulations. The score was 41-40 in favor of Anson.

He watched the coaches break off and discuss the situation. Lucky expected his father to have them kick the extra point and go into overtime. But he also knew his father did not like overtime and would rather have the game decided now, if possible.

“What’re we gonna do?” Stub asked.

“We’re gonna get the two points here and take the gold ball home,” Cole advised. “This is our time. All the momentum is going our way.”

“You sure we shouldn’t kick the extra point?” Stub questioned.

“I’m positive,” Cole answered, and the other coaches knew better than to second-guess him. They knew his mind was made up and it wouldn’t do any good to try and talk him out of it. “This is what we’re gonna do…”

Cole relayed his plans to his coaches, then came over to tell the players.

“You boys wanna win the game now or go into overtime?” he asked.

“Let’s win it,” Skip answered, his opinion echoed by his teammates.

“That’s what I wanted to hear.”

Cole told the team what play to run and asked if there were any questions. There were no questions so he sent the offense back out on the field, as the Petros contingent made all the noise they could.

Anson’s defense was already lined up, expecting an extra point. Lucky brought his team to the line and had them line up with D.J. at running back and Skip at slotback, two tight ends and Andy at the flanker, split wide to the right.

The Rams called time to set the defense, just before Lucky got the play started. Both teams went back to the sidelines to talk with the coaches.

“You still want us to run the same play?” Lucky asked.

“I believe it’ll work,” Cole stated. “And you?”

“Yes sir.”

The teams stayed with their coaches as long as possible, not dispersing until the officials forced them. The ball was in the middle of the field, Gallagher-Iba Arena serving as the backdrop. Lucky waited for the officials to let them play, and slowly started barking the signals.

Anson’s defense was crowding the line, just as Cole hoped. Lucky got to the second “hit” and the ball was snapped. He dropped back five steps and set up with his passing arm high, looking like he was fixing to throw the ball. Just before the defense got to him, Skip circled back and grabbed the ball out of Lucky's hand and sprinted to the left.

The play worked perfectly. Only one defender was between Skip and the end zone. The cornerback on that side dove at Skip's legs, right before he cleanly hurdled the defender. Skip took one step and fell to the ground. He looked around, saw the official rushing up toward him with both arms raised.

The old Statue of Liberty play had worked, the first time many fans had ever seen the play run.

The Petros side swarmed onto the field, seeing there wasn’t any time left. The scorekeeper quickly added the two points, showing a score of Petros 42, Anson 41.

Cole was the first one to suspect something wasn’t right. He saw the officials huddled together, discussing something. Then, he saw it, a yellow flag littering the ground in the center of the field.

The referee started waving his arms, trying to get everybody’s attention. The other officials made sure the two teams did not leave the field and all the extra Petros players returned to the sideline.

Cole watched in disbelief as the official signaled a penalty for illegal procedure and pointed in Petros’ direction. Cole had not seen anybody move, nor had any of the other coaches or players. He took his hat off and slammed it to the ground, a display of emotion seldom seen out of him.

With boos cascading down from that side of the stadium and cheers coming from the far side, the referee tried to avoid the wrath of the Petros side. Cole finally got the line judge’s attention and requested a meeting with the referee.

The line judge went out to the middle of the field and relayed the request to the referee. Cole saw the referee shake his head and knew he was out of luck. The line judge got the duty of informing Cole of the referee’s decision, one that was not easy.

“He said there isn’t anything to talk about,” the line judge said.

“I think it would be good if we talked about that call,” Cole advised, his voice loud enough the band could hear him.

“I’m sorry, Coach.”

“You’re not the one who should be sorry,” Cole shouted. “It’s the ref. I want to know who moved?”

“He said it was somebody on the right side,” the line judge replied.

“That’s it? No number or position?”

“I didn’t hear anything like that.”

Cole stepped back from the official, so upset he was quivering.

“Did you see anybody jump?” Cole asked.

“That’s not my call, Coach.”

“But did you see anybody jump?”

“That is not my call,” the official repeated.

“But would you tell me if you saw anybody jump?”

The official looked him in the eye, then nodded.

Cole shook his head as the official jogged away. He realized his fans were not displaying good sportsmanship, not that his behavior had been all that good either, then turned and waved at the crowd to stop booing and hollering at the officials.

The referee was moving the ball back to the eight. There really wasn’t anything else to do so Cole grabbed Jeremy and sent him and the kicking team in to kick the extra point and send the game into overtime.

“That was a bad call,” Lucky told his father. “Nobody jumped and the ref wouldn’t talk about it.”
Cole nodded and patted his son on his shoulder pads.

“We’ll just have to win it in overtime now,” he responded.

The clock had started and there wasn’t much time left for Petros to get the play off without getting another penalty.

The Panthers rushed to get set. Cole noticed this and tried to get his players to calm down. Now would not be that bad of a time to get a penalty, if it happened, but it was a terrible time for the boys to be rushing. It would only be five yards back, still an easy kick for Jeremy.

Petros finally lined up with only five seconds left on the play clock. Cole noticed Jeremy had not lined up far enough back, appearing to be only five yards back instead of the usual seven. He tried to holler at his players to get their attention, but it was too loud and they were too worried about getting the kick off.

“He’s too close,” Lucky mentioned, seeing the same thing his father saw.

The snap was a little high, but Harry handled it easily and got the ball down, turning the laces just before Jeremy kicked the ball. Anson loaded up the middle and came hard, breaking through a small gap. Wayman Hayes had caused plenty of troubles for Petros the whole game.

He wasn’t through.

Cole saw the hole breaking open and knew this wasn’t good. Jeremy kept his head down and met the ball perfect. But there were two thuds, the sound a kicker and holder hated to hear. The first was Jeremy kicking the ball, of course, the second was the sound of the ball hitting another body, probably an opponent trying to block the kick.

It was Hayes, of course. He had broke through the line and jumped high, his hand coming into contact with the football. It was more of a deflection than a block, though, sending the ball in a different direction instead of knocking it back toward the other end zone.

Cole watched as the ball deflected off Hayes, but still appeared to be going through the two goalposts. He thought it would be good, until the ball hit the far goalpost.

He felt everything leave him, seeing the ball bounce to the ground as the two officials waved their arms.

Cole could only stand and stare, watching the ball bounce on the ground, knowing his team had just came up short. His players fell to the ground, heads buried. Anson’s players began celebrating, jumping in their teammates’ arms and running around the field.

Lucky took off his helmet and dropped it to the ground. This was too hard to believe. Just a minute earlier, it looked like the Panthers had won the state championship. Now, Petros would not even get to go into overtime. The game was over. He looked at the scoreboard and saw the final score read: Anson 41 and Petros 40.

Jeremy was walking toward the sideline, tears already streaming down his cheeks. Two of his teammates were already trying to console him, but having no luck. Cole wanted to go after the official, holler at him and tell him how bad his players were hurting.

That’s what he wanted to do, but didn’t, of course. Instead, he slowly put the hat back on and jogged down to where Jeremy was now down on his knees, his helmet and head resting on the fake grass.

He now had several teammates trying to console him. Cole moved in close to his kicker and started patting him on the back.

“I lost us the game,” Jeremy kept saying.

“You didn’t lose nothing,” Cole stated. “They blocked the kick. They made a great play. Nobody here blames you, Jeremy. You don’t have anything to feel bad about. Their guy just made a great play. I can guarantee you, son, you did us a lot more good than bad. Shake it off and go shake their hands, Jeremy.”

“I’m so sorry,” Jeremy added.

Cole pulled his kicker to his feet and put his arms around him. He knew this one would hurt for a long time and wished something could be done to console him.

He saw Jeremy’s parents had arrived and Cole let them try to make their son feel better. There were a bunch of other players who needed their coach now, too. Cole walked around the field, saying a few words to his players, who were still prone on the ground, crying their eyes out.

The Anson coaches came and shook his hand. Cole appreciated the effort, of course, but still wanted to be with his players. He and the other coaches got the players together for the award’s ceremony.

The Panthers would get a trophy as runner up, of course, but not the one they wanted. There was only one player who wasn’t crying, and that was Lucky. He was too angry right now to be crying, knowing the officials had kept his team from winning the state championship.

Lucky stood with his hands on his hips, staring at the gold ball. Cole noticed his son’s reactions and had never seen him look this way. Lucky always wanted to win and hated to lose, but now looked like he wanted to bite somebody’s head off and chew it up.

Cole sent Derwin and the other seniors to the platform to accept the runner-up trophy. They all looked at it like an unwanted Christmas gift, not caring for it one bit.

The state officials then introduced Anson as the state champions for Class 2A, trying hard not to let the boos from Petros’ side distract him. Cole quieted his crowd, not wanting to ruin this moment for Anson. Sure, the referee had made a questionable call and Petros probably deserved this trophy, but it wasn’t the Rams’ fault.

Cole watched as the trophy was handed to the Anson players and clapped lightly, along with his players. They slowly started walking off the field, trying hard to maintain their composure.

Gabby was waiting near the end zone for Lucky. She knew he was hurting and wished there was some way to take away this pain.

Lucky looked like he was mad at the world while walking toward her. She walked toward him and put her arms around him.

“I’m so proud of you,” she said, kissing him on the cheek.

Lucky nodded and held her closer.

“We should’ve won this game,” he responded.

“I know. You’ll have other chances.”

Lucky started to sniffle a bit, the emotions finally starting to overtake him.

“Yeah, I will,” he answered, pointing to a group of seniors standing around each other, “but they won’t.”

“That was the best game I’ve ever seen.”

“It should have been better,” he added.

They walked toward the locker room, stopping just short of the ramp leading into the locker room.

The Anson players and fans were still in the middle of the field, celebrating another state championship. The Petros fans were slowly filing out of the stadium, ready to make the long drive home.

“I don’t like this feeling,” Lucky stated.

“What feeling?” she asked.

“Losing.”

“Well,” she replied, kissing him lightly. “Don’t let it happen again.”

He paused for one last look around the field, the hurt growing worse by the second. Lucky wanted to remember this moment, to recall how bad it felt to see another team celebrate while his team came up short. He knew that would keep him motivated when times were tough.

“I don’t plan on it,” he answered, turned around and started walking up the ramp, vowing to never let this happen again.

THE END.

Chapter 58

2005-11-07T04:38:00.000-08:00

The team revved up a bit after Cole’s speech, at least rid themselves of some of the nervousness. This time, Cole made sure Anson had taken the field and had finished with the festivities that so impressed his players.

Petros slowly made its way out of the locker room and down the long ramp leading to the field. The fans and band were not allowed on the field so only the cheerleaders were waiting to run on the field with the players.

With the school song blasting loudly, the Panthers sprinted out on to the field, everybody looking around at the stadium, even seeing themselves on the huge video screen at the west end of the field. Several of the players pointed at the screen, making sure all their teammates noticed it also.

Derwin and Gary were sent to the middle of the field for the coin toss. The wind was blowing hard out of the north and swirling inside the stadium. It would not really make any difference so Cole did not care which end of the field his team took.

He told his players to defer until the second half if they won the coin toss. Derwin called “heads” and that was how it landed so Gary followed his coach’s instructions.

Anson’s captains decided to take the ball so Derwin told the officials Petros would kick from the west end.

The noise was building, as was the excitement as Cole met with his players before the kicking team took the field.

“Go knock some heads,” he instructed. “They’re not used to getting pounded so let’s show them what it feels like to get hit by a Panther.”

As Jeremy lined up for the kick, Cole noticed Waymon Hayes was back to receive the kickoff, the first time he had seen that.

He started hollering at Jeremy to kick the ball away from Hayes, but it did no good. It was too loud and Jeremy never heard his coach.

Not that it mattered. Jeremy hit the kick perfect, sending the ball high in the air as everybody in the stadium stood, ready for the game to start. Hayes could only stand just inside the end zone and watch the ball soar over his head and into the end zone.

It was a touchback and the perfect way for Petros to start the game.

The Rams broke the huddle and quickly lined up in an I-formation with two tight ends and a flanker spread to the right.

The quarterback barked the signals, took the snap and spun around to hand off to Hayes right up the gut. Derwin blew past the guard, avoided the fullback and threw his whole body into the tailback. He had never hit anybody better or harder.

The force of the blow forced both players to stand straight up. Derwin tried wrapping his arms around Hayes but could not hold on to the massive legs.

Hayes regained his senses, spun away from Derwin and took off around the left end. Harry was coming full speed and dove, trying to knock the legs out from under the Anson running back. It barely bothered Hayes, who ran right through the tackle and was slowed for only an instant.

Two other Panthers hit him with everything they had, but it did not matter. Hayes ran through the tackles, got his legs moving like pistons and sprinted into the secondary.

From that point, it was over. Hayes burst through the secondary like a bullet and made everybody else look like they were standing still. Hayes never slowed down until finishing off his 80-yard run that hit the Petros players like a hard punch in the stomach.

“Holy cow,” exclaimed Cole.

“I think we’re in deep doo-doo,” Stub remarked.

The Petros players were left shaking their heads and looking to the sideline for directions.

Derwin slowly jogged over to the sideline, blood gushing from a nose that looked to be broken in several places.

“I can hardly breathe,” he muttered, pulling off his helmet. The front of his white jersey was already turning a crimson color. Two teammates helped him to the bench as Doc Hardy ran to where he was seated. The doctor grabbed a towel and tried to wipe away the blood to determine the extent of the injury. The blood was flowing so hard, however, that once it was wiped away a new flow would spout out before the doctor could see the damage.

There was no doubt the nose was broken, though, crumpled up like somebody hit him in the face with a brick. The nose was already swelling, as were both eyes, already almost closed.

Cole walked over to look at Derwin, who was squirming around, the pain almost too much to bear. When he found out that playing more was out of the question, Cole knew Derwin would hurt even more.

“We’re going to need to take him inside,” the doctor advised.

Two trainers from Oklahoma State were quickly on the scene, trying to help. The towel holding his nose quickly turned red from the blood. As he walked down the sideline, he left behind a trail of blood.

He stopped and turned back to the coaches.

“I’ll be back,” he promised, sounding like the Terminator.

Cole nodded, although doubting that would happen.

This was not a good start, Cole knew. The game was only one play old and Anson scored on an eighty-yard run and his best defensive player had his nose splattered all over his face.

“At least it won’t hurt his looks,” Stub stated.

“It can’t help, though,” Lloyd added.

The kick on the extra point was perfect, giving Anson an early lead of 7-0.

Most of the fans had not even had a chance to take a seat yet and already a touchdown was scored. The Petros fans were in disbelief, finding it hard to believe anybody could take a hit like that and then go the distance to score, leaving all the Petros defenders standing around wondering what happened.

Lucky had never seen a high school player run like that. The only other players he had seen run like that were college and pro players.

“Boy, he can run,” said Happy, who stood beside Lucky.

“I don’t know how he could still be standing after that hit,” Lucky stated admiringly. “Derwin splattered him and he didn’t even act like it fazed him. I guess you’ll get a chance to pop him now.”

“Yeah, I bet he’ll be scared to death.”

The two teams lined up for the kickoff. The official signaled for the kicker to go ahead and he did, sending a short, high kick that came down on the 23. Skip was waiting for the ball, took two steps then was plastered by one of Anson’s defensive backs.

He could barely hang on to the ball until he hit the ground.

Petros’ offense took the field. Cole knew the offense needed to hold on to the ball for a while, to let the Panthers’ defense recoup after the long run. He sent the Panthers out in their regular offense with D.J. and Skip at running back, two tight ends and Harry at flanker.

Cole knew his team was a little shaken so he decided to keep it simple. He sent in a simple dive play to D.J., hoping to get off to a good start on offense.

He didn’t get it.

Gary had trouble with the snap, tried to force the ball into D.J.’s stomach and it didn’t work. Anson sent a linebacker blitzing right in that hole and arrived just as Gary was having trouble with the handoff.

The ball popped straight up, hit the ground and bounced right into the hands of one of the Anson defensive tackles. He fell to the ground, covering up the ball to give his team great field position.

A loud groan came from the Petros side as the official signaled the ball belonged to Anson. The Rams took over on the Petros 24-yard line.

Anson’s offense sprinted back on to the field. With everybody expecting the ball to go to Hayes, the Rams tried to catch Petros off guard, calling a trap play to the fullback.

The Panthers filled the lanes and forced the fullback to try and veer outside. He could not make it back to the line before Happy broke through and brought him down.

Ichabod knew from watching film that on second and long, Anson either went with a sweep or ran the option. The play would usually go to the wide side and Ichabod decided to roll the dice.

It was a sweep to the wide side, just like Ichabod expected. He had Gary blitz from his position and it looked like the gamble worked.

Gary had Hayes in his sights and forced him back into the inside. Happy was bearing down on the Anson running back, hoping history did not repeat itself. It was a hit that made Derwin’s play look insignificant, one that made all the television replays that night.

Happy hit with everything he had, even wrapped up Hayes. But Hayes quickly recovered, threw Happy aside like he was a wet rag and took off.

Skip grabbed an ankle and was dragged for several yards before Hayes broke loose. Several Panthers were close to him but could not get any closer as they watched the Anson standout break loose and sprint toward the end zone.

Cole had no answer to stopping this onslaught. The only thing that could be done was score more points than Anson, but staring at a 14-0 deficit did not make him feel like his chances were good.

Petros had run only one play on offense and was already trailing by two touchdowns to a team you never wanted to fall behind against.

He felt the confidence of his players dropping quickly. Sure, the Panthers had been through some tough times, but never in a situation like this. They were already shaken even before the game started and to see Anson roar ahead did not make the Panthers feel better.

The offense had to move the ball this time and keep it away from Anson. Cole decided the best defense for the Panthers was a good offense, one where they held the ball for a long drive. Now he just had to decide how to get that done.

Cole almost sent in a trick play, but considered that a sign of weakness. Plus, after Kenneth could only return the kick to the 25, field position was not great and Petros could not allow Anson a short field again.

It might not even matter whether it was a short or long field, but Cole was determined not to make any mistake that made it easier for the Rams.

The Petros offense jogged back on to the field. Cole wanted to keep things simple until everybody calmed down so he sent in another dive, only this time to Skip.

Petros’ line was much smaller than its counterparts, but that does not always determine who wins or loses on the line. If done correctly with the right fundamentals, a smaller man can block a larger man, and that was the case on this play.

The Panthers’ line blocked the right player and Skip looked up to see a large hole in front of him. It closed quickly, but not before he picked up almost seven yards. Cole sent in the same play and once again, it worked.

Skip hit the hole quickly and picked up four yards before the Rams responded. It was a first down for the Panthers, their first of the game. It also kept the ball away from Anson a little longer.

D.J. got the call on the next play. The hole was clogged with bodies, so he bounced outside, appeared to have running room but was quickly run down by the great speed of the defense. He did pick up three yards, however, so the play was not a total waste.

Cole could see the confidence rising slightly. This was how he hoped the offense would look the whole game. He watched as Gary took the snap, faked a handoff to Skip, as the defense was geared up for him this time, then kept the ball and ran through another big hole.

The run was good for six yards, setting up third and short. Cole sent Happy in so the Panthers lined up in the wishbone.

Gary faked the dive to Happy, pivoted around and handed off to Skip on a crossbuck. There wasn’t much of a hole, just big enough for him to slide through for a gain of two yards and another first down.

Cole saw the defense moving closer to the ball, not the least bit worried about a pass. Now was the perfect time for a play-action pass, and if Lucky was playing, he would not have hesitated for a second.

But with Gary in, rusty after having not played for so long, Cole decided not to try anything fancy at this time. Plus, the Panthers were moving the ball.

Petros tried the option for the first time but Anson’s great team speed just ate the play up, tackling Skip for a small loss as soon after he received the pitch.

“It’s gonna be hard to get outside,” said Lloyd, an understatement as far as his father was concerned.

Lucky was dying to get in the game, hating to stand on the sidelines and not contribute. He was still sore, but wished his father would give him the chance. He also could see the way Anson’s defense was playing and knew a pass would work.

Cole decided to gamble, facing second and long. He knew it was not likely to work, but if nothing else, it might convince the defense to scoot back a little bit. Gary faked a handoff to D.J., then Skip on the belly.

He paused for a second, selling the run, then slowly rolled out. Harry was the flanker on that side. He faked a block on the safety and cut back on a flag route. Anson’s defense recovered quickly, but Harry still had a couple of steps on the defensive back.

Gary threw a bullet into the gusting winds, a pass so hard the wind did not even bother it. It also was so hard the Anson defender could not recover. Harry grabbed the pass going full speed and was off.

Against most teams, he probably would have scored. Against Anson, however, he was caught after gaining 11 more yards.

Skip found good running room on another dive play, nearly breaking it for big yardage but settling for a gain of seven. D.J. followed with a blast that was good for five more yards and the Panthers’ offense seemed to be on a roll.

The drive continued, eating up yardage and time. But once Petros reached the Anson 20, the Rams’ defense stiffened. They were not used to teams moving the ball against them, and certainly not used to other teams scoring on them.

The holes were closed up and the backs found no running room. After two runs gained nothing, Cole called another pass. Anson’s defense blitzed, sending more defenders than there were blockers.

Gary did not read it quick enough and failed to hit his hot target, Andy, on a slant. Two Rams came in from his blind side and hit him, knocking the Petros quarterback down before he got rid of the ball. It was a loss of nine, leaving the Panthers facing fourth and 20.

They would have to reach the Anson nine to pick up a first down and keep the drive alive. Cole expected another blitz and kept both running backs in to block. Gary faked a handoff to D.J., which fooled nobody, and rolled out.

He felt the pressure this time and knew there wasn’t much time. Andy was split out far to the side, covered by two defenders. He fought through the defensive backs trying to jam him at the line and used his long strides to open a small gap.

Andy looked back, hoping to see the ball in the air. Gary was just releasing the pass as a linebacker crashed in to him, forcing the ball to flutter to the ground.

The drive had ended, but did use up some clock and keep Anson’s offense off the field. Now there were only a little over three minutes left in the quarter. The offense had partially done its job, just failed to score. Now it was time for the defense to step it up.

Petros’ defense knew what was coming, as did everybody in the stadium. The Panthers keyed on Hayes, willing to risk a pass play. They crowded the line and edged closer.

Anson’s quarterback took the snap and pitched back to Hayes. Stewart Andrews was the defensive end on that side. He read the play and did just as the coaches instructed him. Stewart ran straight up the field, cutting off Hayes from getting outside and forcing the runner back inside. Ronnie Jones fought off his block and was waiting.

He grabbed Hayes and refused to let go until help arrived. Murray and Skip followed, blasting Hayes with hits that would take a normal player to the ground. Stewart also joined in and the four players actually brought Hayes down. The Petros side let out a wild cheer, finally realizing Hayes could be tackled.

Anson came back with an option to the other side. Sam Roberts crashed so quick the quarterback was unable to pitch back to Hayes. It was two straight plays with a loss and Petros was starting to get fired up.

But the Panthers needed another big play to stop the onslaught. All the Panthers expected a draw to Hayes and maintained their spots. Anson’s quarterback dropped straight back, looking for an open receiver.

Gary had Hayes covered, who was the first option, so the quarterback had to try and find somebody else open. The Panthers’ coverage was good so the quarterback tried to scramble. He got through the wave of linemen, only to find Happy waiting for him.

Happy caught him flush, straightening up the quarterback then driving him backward to the ground. It was a perfect form tackle, one that would have been a good one for an instructional video.

The Panthers mobbed Happy, who was so keyed up it was doubtful he even realized what happened.

Petros had actually stopped the mighty Rams and would get the ball back, probably in good field position.

Cole decided to go after the punt, sending ten players to try for the block. Skip’s fingers almost grazed the ball as he dove for the block. But despite the pressure, the punt was still a good one.

Kenneth had to retreat backward, waiting for the punt to come down. He hated to do it but was forced to call a fair catch, knowing the Rams had two players bearing down on him and likely to take his head off if he didn’t raise his arm before catching the punt.

The Panthers took over on their own 43, the first good field position of the game.

A dive to D.J. netted five yards, followed by a crossbuck to Skip, good for another three. Facing third and two, Gary saw the middle of the defense open as he came to the line and kept the ball himself on a quarterback sneak, easily picking up the first down.

With the clock counting down until the end of the quarter, Skip took a dive handoff for six yards. Gary ran the same play, only keeping this time instead of handing off. He picked up four yards and appeared to have a first down.

The officials measured and the Panthers were short by less than two inches. As Petros broke the huddle, the buzzer sounded, ending the first quarter. The two teams went to the sidelines to get some drinks and advice.

Cole sent in Happy on the short-yardage play, planning to let him rumble ahead for the first down.

The Petros side was getting back in the game, realizing a 14-0 deficit was not impossible to overcome. After all, aside from the two quick touchdowns in the first minute, Petros had played its opponent even.

Gary led the offense back on the field. The Panthers went straight to the line, waiting for the official to let them play. He took the snap and handed off to Happy, who barged forward for a couple of yards and another first down.

Cole kept the same lineup in for first down, again calling for a handoff to Happy. There really wasn’t much of a hole, but that did not keep him from making his own. He plowed forward, looking for somebody to hit, not a hole.

He hit one lineman, powered through then ran into a linebacker. Happy was brought down, but not before delivering a hit that left the linebacker shaking his head. It was good for four yards, another good play on first down.

Cole sent in the same play to the other side. This time it did not work, Anson’s defense swarmed Happy in the backfield before he picked up any speed. Now the Panthers faced third and six, not the kind of situation they wanted to be in.

Gary got the call from the sideline and relayed it to his teammates. Happy had gone to the sideline, replaced by Andy. The Panthers were going into the shotgun for the first time, putting receivers all over the field.

Seth was the only running back in the backfield with Gary. The Petros quarterback took the snap and dropped back, waiting for the pressure to come. As soon as the linemen got close, he lobbed a pass over their heads to Seth, waiting behind a wall of blockers.

He was wide open and had nothing but blockers and a lot of grass between him and the goal-line. But he only forgot one thing before taking off, and that was catching the ball before running.

The ball bounced off his fingers and to the ground. He was already two yards down the field by this time, looking back and wondering why the football was not in his hands.

He threw his hands up in dismay, knowing the drop kept Petros from a big gain. Now the Panthers would have to punt, giving Hayes the ball again.

Seth walked slowly toward the sideline, wishing for some place to hide. He was expecting a lecture but his teammates and coaches surrounded him, patting him on his shoulder pads and telling him to forget it.

He was glad for the support but it did not keep him from feeling terrible. Seth was grateful for the opportunity to play in a situation like this, but wished he could hide on the sidelines if another mistake like this was going to happen.

Cole made sure the entire punting team knew Hayes was back for the punt. He grabbed Jeremy before the kicker jogged on to the field.

“Kick the ball outta bounds,” Cole instructed.

“Will do,” replied Jeremy.

The Rams were setting up for the return and did not punt any pressure on the kick. Jeremy took his time and just murdered the kick, one of his better punts of the year. The football sailed long and high, easily clearing Hayes and sailing out of bounds at the Anson 32.

His teammates were impressed and made sure they let Jeremy know as he ran off the field. The fans rose also, making sure Jeremy knew his efforts were appreciated.

The Rams tried to trick Petros on first down, faking a handoff to Hayes, then the quarterback waited patiently before unleashing a long pass.

Skip read the play perfectly, making sure none of the receivers got behind him. The Anson wide receiver flew past D.J. and appeared to be open, but Skip came out of nowhere and dove at the last second, knocking the ball away.

It was a great play, one that even Anson’s coaches applauded.

The Rams decided to quit messing around and handed off to Hayes right up the middle on second down. The Panthers penetrated into the backfield and three of the players were holding on for dear life. Gary saw the opportunity he had been waiting for and sprinted in from the secondary at full speed, lowered his head and tried to remove Hayes’ head from his body.

The crashing of the collision reverberated off the stands, the crack loud enough it was heard in the press box. Unfortunately for Petros, Gary’s plan did not work. All it did was knock the Anson running back free.

He retreated two steps, took another big hit from D.J., spun around and headed outside. Stewart Andrews was caught out of position and dove for Hayes’ legs, trying to keep him from getting outside.

Hayes ran through the attempted tackle and got to the corner. Seeing this caused anguish for the Petros coaches, knowing this was not good.

They could see what was developing, knew what was fixing to happen but were powerless to stop it.

Two of the Panthers had the angle on Hayes, not that it did any good. He actually seemed to slow down to let the Petros players get close, like it would raise the hopes of his teammates and fans, then turned on the afterburners, leaving all the players far behind.

“There’s no way to stop him,” Lloyd stated.

“He’s probably the best dang high school football player I’ve ever seen,” Stub complimented.

Cole tried to not pay attention to what everybody was saying. He was watching his players on the field, knowing how bad this hurt to advance this far and then get manhandled.

But there wasn’t anything that could be done. Cole couldn’t put on the pads, he was too old by now, not that it would do any good. They just didn’t make running backs like this when he played.

There were fast backs then, and big backs, of course, but not the combination Hayes possessed. He was big, strong, fast and smart. Plus, as he had shown several times, Hayes could take a hit and keep going.

The players jogged to the end of the field, the Petros players looking to the sideline for directions on how to stop this stud. None of the coaches could answer the question, not really sure there was an answer.

There were teams in college ball that could stop him, but certainly not in a Class 2A state championship game. There was only one way for Hayes to get stopped and that was to knock him out of the game. And after seeing him survive hits that would put a normal player on the bench for the rest of the game, Cole knew that was easier said than done.

He watched the kick split the uprights, watched the replay on the huge video screen and wondered what to do.

His players were dragging badly now, looking like they were beat and the second quarter wasn’t even half over.

Cole and the other coaches tried to boost the players but quickly saw it was not doing any good. The players just looked and acted like they wished this would get over with, the same way Cole always felt when he made the mistake of riding a roller coaster.

He just wished the ride would end, just as his players felt now.

His team had not quit all year and Cole doubted they would here either, although they certainly looked like they wanted to give it up.

Cole looked down the sideline and saw Lucky looking back at him, pleading to go into the game without saying a word.

He contemplated it for a second, but doubted it would really help things and only increase the chances of Lucky getting hurt worse.

Cole looked away, still feeling his son’s eyes bearing down on him.

Lucky was not the begging type, but wanted to do something to convince his father he could play. This hurt much more than the ribs, seeing his teammates getting hammered. And Lucky had not seen anything that made him think things would change, knowing the only way this would keep from being embarrassing was the kindness of the Anson coach, if he called off the dogs.

Cole sent the return team back on the field.

“We should get pretty good at this before the night is over,” Stub mentioned.

“What’s that?” Cole asked.

“Returning kicks.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Cause it looks like we’re gonna get a lotta practice,” Stub added, walking off before he heard Cole’s response.

Cole didn’t really have a response, mainly because he knew what Stub said was true.

He turned his attention back on the field. The kick was short again, coming down on the 22. Kenneth caught the ball, started up the field, weaving in and out of traffic and reached the 36 before getting his legs cut out from under him.

Petros’ offense took the field again. The fans still had enough enthusiasm to make some noise, but it was not as high on the decibel meter as before.

The offense lined up on the ball, waiting for the umpire to let them proceed. Finally, everybody was ready. Gary took the snap, spun around and put the ball in D.J.’s belly. He left it there for as long as possible before pulling it out. He stood still for a second, trying to sell the fake even more.

Finally, he started jogging in the opposite direction. Andy was cutting across the field, followed closely by one of the safeties. It was too close to throw the ball and Andy was the only receiver out on a route. So Gary pulled the ball in, held on tight and took off.

He had the corner for just a second before the pursuit caught up with him. What looked like the beginning of a good play turned out to be nothing but a bust. Anson’s defense was just too quick. Gary was brought down, still a yard behind the line of scrimmage.

Seeing this was painful to Cole, knowing if Lucky was in the game, he would have gotten around the corner and probably picked up good yardage.

Cole called another trick play, knowing Anson would not be ready for this. It was the first time the Panthers ran the play in years. Gary took the snap, pitched back to Skip running to his right and then took off in the other direction.

Skip got outside, waited for the defense to come to him, then fired a pass back across the field. Gary was wide open and caught the ball on the run.

He had plenty of room and took advantage of it, running down the field as fast as possible. It took several seconds for the Rams to realize what happened. Gary had a good lead but it did not last long.

Anson had four players in the secondary faster than anybody on Petros’ roster. Two of them were still on that side of the field. They quickly recovered and chased after Gary.

Gary had decent speed but looked like some wild African animal getting chased down by a cheetah. They caught him and brought him down at Anson’s 32.

The Panthers huddled quickly and Cole sent in the play. Gary would fake a handoff to Skip and roll out on a bootleg with the option of running or passing. The play worked fine until he faked the handoff and found a defensive end bearing down on him.

Gary panicked and threw the ball in the general area where Harry should be. That is, if the defensive backs had allowed him to get off the line. They didn’t, keeping him pinned up.

Nobody from Petros was even close to the pass, only the Anson free safety. He left his feet to dive for the ball, grabbing it only inches before it fell to the ground.

The official pointed toward the end zone Petros was defending, letting everybody know it was Anson’s ball.

“We can’t block, tackle or hold on to the dang ball,” Stub mumbled, while walking past Cole. “That animal out there’s probably gonna go eighty yards on us again.”

Actually, it was eighty-three yards and he did it on the second play. The first play was a trap to the fullback that went nowhere. Anson followed with a power play off the tackle next with Hayes taking the ball, hitting the hole quickly and running through an attempted arm tackle by Happy, nearly pulling his arm out of socket in the process.

Hayes looked like a jet taking off. He was through the line and past the secondary before the Panthers got rid of the blockers. By that time, he was off to the races.

The players and coaches watched in disbelief, getting very tired of this. They were convinced and did not need to see this anymore. They now knew Hayes was the best player in the state and did not need any more convincing. He just needed to turn into a mere mortal and stop this Superman act.

The kick was good again, giving Anson a 28-0 lead midway through the quarter. If Cole thought his players were dragging earlier, they had advanced to a new level.

This had stopped being fun for them, they just wanted it to end. They did not know how to stop this guy, especially with their best defensive player in the locker room getting his splattered nose put back together.

The kick was short again, this time taken by Skip. He flew up the middle and reached the 38 before getting chased down.

“See, we’re getting better every time,” Stub pointed out.

“You’re really starting to get on my nerves with your comments,” Ichabod responded.

Stub started to fire back with a smart remark, then caught himself.

“Sorry,” he added. “I’m just frustrated like everybody else.”

The Panthers started another drive, slowly moving down the field. But again, they had success until getting close to the end zone. Then, the Rams stiffened and the drive ended, this time as Petros could not convert on fourth-and-three as Skip was hit in the backfield, not even able to get back to the line.

Ichabod was tired of messing around. He wanted to force Anson to try something different and decided to send all eleven players. It was an act of desperation, but he wanted to somehow stop Hayes, if possible.

The Panthers came with everything and actually got to Hayes before he got started. It took around five players, but they again proved Hayes could be tackled.

Anson’s coach was no dummy, of course, you did not win as many state championships as he had and not pick up a few things. He knew if Petros was sending that many players on a blitz, a pass should be available.

He called the play, hoping his quarterback had time to get rid of the ball. He did, barely, and flung a pass out to his flanker, who appeared to be open when the pass was thrown.

But Skip read the play from his safety position and got there just as the ball did. The flanker bobbled the ball for just a second. Skip only had to put his hands out and the ball came to rest in his paws.

He took off, looking for a path to the end zone. The Petros side exploded, finally seeing something good happen to their team.

Skip had a lane to the end zone, but saw several Anson players chasing after him. He made it to the three before getting knocked out of bounds.

The Panthers’ offense finally showed a little life as they sprinted on to the field. The players congratulated Skip as they huddled, glad to be that close to the end zone.

On first down, Gary handed off to Skip, who followed the blocks of Happy and D.J. The going was tough and crowded and he only picked up a yard before getting pushed back.

Happy picked up another yard on second down, blasting into the heart of the defense. It was now third and goal from the two. Gary faked the dive to Happy, the handed back to D.J. who was angling across from behind on a crossbuck.

He had no hole and tried to get outside. The Rams were waiting for him so he cut back inside, finding only a small gap and squirting through, nearly reaching the end zone before getting thrown back.

It was now fourth-and-goal from the one. The fans on both sides stood and cheered, hoping for a score or a stop. Only a little less than two minutes were left before halftime. Cole sent in a play, one that should be able to pick up one yard. It was a quarterback sneak, the easiest play in the playbook.

The Rams had two huge tackles in the gap between Petros’ center and the guards along with two linebackers stacked in behind them. They expected the sneak also, knowing that was the best way to pick up the yard.

Gary went with a quick snap, hoping to catch the Rams by surprise. If it did, it was hard to tell. The Rams’ two tackles blasted into Danny Wall, Petros’ center, and clogged up the hole. The linebackers saw what was developing and also came forward.

As he took the snap, Gary lowered his head and tried to barge forward, but found no place to move. Danny was stood up and getting pushed into the backfield and it moved the Petros quarterback in that direction.

Gary looked desperately for any slight gap to go through but found nothing. Other Rams came pouring through like water in a hole in a dam and he was mobbed, not even getting back to the line of scrimmage.

The Panthers were left pounding the fake grass, knowing they had missed a great opportunity. Cole even showed some emotion for the one of the few times, removing his hat and rubbing his head. He came close to tossing his hat before deciding that would look stupid. How could the coaches expect the players to maintain their composure if the head coach acted like a baby and threw his hat on the ground?

Anson quickly came to the line, wanting to get started again, not satisfied with a four-touchdown lead. Petros again lined up with all eleven players in the box, ready to come hard.

The Rams played it fairly conservatively, handing off to Hayes straight ahead. There wasn’t really a hole, but he made his own. Hayes hit the line already going full speed. Ronnie Jones was waiting for him, but was soon watching from his back as Hayes ran him over like the Panthers’ defensive tackle wasn’t even there.

Happy blasted into Hayes, but bounced off those huge legs. Skip grabbed hold of Hayes and was dragged several yards before getting shaken off. D.J. was the last hope. He blasted into Hayes, only slowing him for a second before getting shaken off like he was a rag doll.

The Panthers watched helplessly as Hayes left everybody in his wake on a 99-yard touchdown run, easily the most impressive one of the night.

Cole stood bent over, shaking his head, wondering how anybody could be that talented.

“Can anybody tackle him?” Cole asked, mainly to himself.

“I can,” said a voice behind him.

He turned to see who volunteered and saw it was his youngest son.

“We might have to see,” Cole responded.

“Good.”

The kick was good again, as the kicker had gotten a lot of practice over the year and in this game at kicking extra points, just as Petros was getting a lot of practice returning kicks.

Anson led 35-0 with just over a minute remaining in the first half.

Skip returned the kick to the Petros 39, again giving his team good field position. Cole knew he should just sit on the ball and play it conservatively, but felt that would not sent a good message to his team.

So he had the Panthers go for the long ball, hoping for some lucky break. On first down, Gary unleashed a long pass to Andy, who used his height to get above the defenders and pull it down on Anson’s 33.

The Panthers hurried to the line and waited for the okay from the official. As soon as they could, Gary called for the ball and received it. This time, nobody was open and Andy was blanketed so heavily that he did not dare throw the ball in his direction.

Gary should have just thrown the ball away, but was sacked by the right defensive end, still waiting for a receiver to break free. Cole called time and brought his team over to the sideline.

“Boys, we’re gonna have to give him more time,” Cole pleaded. “It’s really hard to throw the ball while sitting on your rear. Gary, you’re gonna have to feel the pressure and get rid of it if nobody is open. We can’t take the losses.”

It was second and sixteen as the Panthers came back out on the field. They lined up in the shotgun again, receivers scattered all over the field. Gary took the snap and fired a pass to Kenneth, who was cutting back toward the line. He got behind a wall of blockers on the screen and started running down the field.

He picked up 12 yards, giving Petros a third down with four yards to go for the first.

Gary had his team line up quickly, seeing the precious time slip away. He called the play at the line, planning to go to Andy on a slant.

He took the snap and stepped back a couple of paces, then threw the ball to his lone receiver on the left. It looked like a perfect pass, but the Anson defensive end on that side raised his arm and batted the ball away.

It was now fourth-and-four, still plenty of time.

Cole sent in a play he would later regret. With as hard as the Rams’ line was rushing, there should be a huge gap up in the middle. He just did not expect two linebackers to be coming in that area.

It was a quarterback draw. Gary took three steps back, waited for a second then took off up the field. He quickly realized this wasn’t going to work when two linebackers showed up in front of him, snorting like wild hogs.

The first linebacker hit him high, twisting him in one direction. The other came low, twisting in the other direction. Something had to give and it did, Gary’s left leg under the pressure.

Several of his teammates said they heard the snap. Gary certainly did, as did the two Anson players, who jumped off of the Petros quarterback and started waving for help even before the official blew the play dead.

Gary was sprawled out on the ground, his body going one way, his left leg turned in a direction it should not go.

Cole was the first coach on the field and quickly realized Gary’s leg was broken. As expected, Gary was in quite a bit of pain and his coach tried comforting him.

“My leg feels funny,” Gary moaned.

“You’ll be okay,” Cole assured him, kneeling down beside him.

“How bad is it?” Gary asked, trying to rise and look.

Cole held him down, not wanting Gary to see this. Most people did not respond well when they saw their leg twisted in a wrong direction. The Anson coaches also joined the huddle, realizing the severity of the danger.

Doc Hardy was already making his way to the locker room and had to run from the end zone, out of breath by the time he hit the 20 and puffing heavily by the time he reached Gary.

The trainers from OSU were also nearby, already signaling for additional help. The ambulance came out of one end zone and drove down the field, stopping beside where Gary was laid out.

His parents had left their seats and came out to where their son was, trying to offer comfort. Cole was worried Gary’s mother would get ill when she looked at the leg, but she was a trooper. It was the father who almost got sick.

The medical people carefully put an air cast on the leg to keep it stationary. Stub had to keep telling his players to get back. They also wanted to comfort their fallen teammate, but were getting in the way. Once the leg was set in the cast, they removed his helmet, jersey and shoulder pads.

He was lifted on to the stretcher and taken into the ambulance. His mother got in with him while the father left to retrieve his truck and follow the ambulance to the Stillwater hospital, less than a mile from the stadium. All the people on both sides stood and clapped as he left the field.

It took several more minutes before everything and everyone could get off the field and play could resume.

Cole saw Anson breaking the huddle and realized he had not sent in a replacement for Gary.

“We need to get somebody in for Gary,” he told Ichabod.

“We got eleven out there,” Ichabod replied.

“Who took his place?”

“Look,” Ichabod responded, pointing at the secondary.

Cole saw number fifteen stationed at the rover position and it took a second for him to realize his son was in the game.

“Did you send him in?” Cole asked.

“Nope, and neither did Stub,” Ichabod answered. “I guess he figured that was the only way he would get to play.”

“Send somebody in for him. We can’t have players checking in on their own.”

“Too late,” Stub advised. “We’ll need to do it after this play.”

They looked back out on the field. Anson’s quarterback was taking the snap and handed off to Hayes on a blast play up the middle. There was a small hole and he sprinted through it, looking like it might be another big gain.

But as he ran past a diving Happy, Hayes was hit by a freight train wearing the number 15 on his white jersey.

He had taken and survived some big hits in the game, but this one topped them all. Hayes was stopped in his tracks and just collapsed to the ground.

For Lucky, it did not seem like that great of a hit. It did not hurt him at all, but it looked like Hayes' guts were all shaken.

It took a second for everybody to realize what happened. The Anson fans and players were stunned, never having seen their stud go down like this. They looked at each other, seeking confirmation that it was Hayes who had been crumpled to the ground and was now having trouble getting to his feet.

The Panthers went wild after they realized what happened, celebrating like they had not all game. Lucky hated to see this with Hayes staggering to get back to the huddle, but was also a little excited.

His teammates mobbed him and the people in the stands grabbed each other, exchanged high fives and jumped up and down.

The buzzer sounded to end the first half. Cole jogged after Lucky, catching him before he got past the end zone and grabbing his son by the shoulder pads.

“Great hit,” he stated. “But you should not have checked in without one of the coaches telling you to go in.”

“Sorry,” Lucky responded, the signs of excitement leaving his face. “I was tired of seeing him run up and down the field on us.”

“I know you were. But you’ve got to let the coaches decide who plays and who doesn’t.”

“Okay, who’s gonna play the second half?”

“You feel up to it?”

Lucky’s smile returned.

“They’d have to put me in a body cast to keep me off the field.”

“I guess you’ll be playing,” his father advised. “But don’t try and do too much.”

Lucky was so excited, he reached out and hugged his father, something which did not happen too often, especially when others could see.

They made their way up the ramp and to the dressing room, where the whole room was excited, talking about the hit. It was impossible to tell this was a group of boys trailing 35-0 in a state championship game.

It was almost like David fell Goliath again. Cole did not think it was that big, but probably pretty close. He doubted anybody had ever popped Hayes like that before and just like everybody else, you get hit like that, it hurts.

Cole walked over to where the other coaches were sitting.

“I don’t know about you guys, but I feel like we should go all out this half,” he mentioned. “We shouldn’t play conservative or try and keep the score from getting out of hand. I want to play like we’re going to try and win the game.

“We’re gonna attack on defense and throw the ball every down on offense if that’s what it takes. I don’t know if we can come back and win this game, but we’re sure gonna try. You guys okay with that?”

“I wouldn’t want to play any other way,” Stub agreed.

“I’d rather play hard and get beat by seventy points than play conservative to keep the score reasonable,” Ichabod added.

“Heck yeah,” Lloyd added. “Let’s get after them and stop playing like a bunch of sissies.”

The other coaches looked at Lloyd, not really appreciating the “sissies” comment.

Cole left, shaking his head, a way his oldest son usually left him feeling. He got something to drink and stood before his team, waiting for them to get quiet before talking to them.

“Boys, you know and I know what the scoreboard says,” Cole said. “We kinda got our behinds handed to us on a plate the first half. We didn’t play like we should have and Superman over there is trying to set a new state record for yards rushing.

“But all that doesn’t matter a hill of beans. As far as I’m concerned, we’ll play this second half like the score’s tied. I want us to win this half. Whether it is by one point or 36 points. I’d kinda prefer that it was by 36 points because then we’d win the game. But let’s show them what Petros Panther football is all about.”

Cole waited a second, getting a drink. His mouth was starting to foam and he did not want to look like a dog with rabies.

“Let’s hit them with everything we got. We’re not gonna hold anything back this half. We’re gonna run every play we can think of, anything we can do to score points. We’re also gonna have to stop them on defense but I really don’t think their tailback’s gonna run in the second half like he did in the first half.

“We’ve been playing a long time, boys. We only have one half left in this year. Some of you guys won’t ever strap on the pads again. Let’s make this half one for the ages. Let them talk about this in the years to come, how the Panthers came from so far behind in the second half of the state championship game. We can do it, guys. Hit like you’ve never hit before. Block those guys like they’ve never been blocked and let’s take it to them.”

Chapter 59

Chapter 57

2005-11-04T04:54:00.000-08:00

The chartered buses arrived early Saturday morning, just before the members of the Petros High School football team showed up. It was quite an event for the remaining people in town to see, five chartered buses going through town and parking in front of the gym.

The football team only needed two buses. The others were for the cheerleaders, band, students and other Petros fans who decided it was better to ride a bus than make the three-hour drive.

Sleep had not been easy for the players and coaches the night before. Their thoughts, hopes and worries were on the game and left many needing more rest. Cole was still convinced it was better for everybody to sleep in their own beds instead of going to Stillwater the night before and sleeping in a strange bed and different environment.

All the equipment had been loaded in vans the previous evening so all the players had to do was get on the right bus and wait for everybody to arrive, knowing they better not be late or they would be left at home. It didn’t matter whether you were a starter or a reserve.

Too many players had learned that lesson over the years. If you were late, the bus would not wait. It was one of Cole’s main rules and one that had not been broken this year.

There was enough room on the buses for all the players to have room to stretch out and not be cramped, which was the usual case on a school bus. The players noticed there was a television and VCR on both buses, but did not think much about it, other than it would be cool if they could watch something while going down the road.

Ichabod and Lloyd would handle one bus, riding along with Scoop. Cole and Stub would go on the other bus. Cole decided this was the best way, knowing if Stub and Lloyd were together on a bus, it would probably turn into a party.

It was a cold December morning, the skies a bright blue like only a winter morning produces. Everybody was blowing smoke when they breathed or talked and the exhaust from the buses joined in. Cole hated riding in buses, had for years, but thought this was a definite improvement over the usual ride. There was even a bathroom on the bus!

The coaches stood around, wearing heavy black jackets and hats, shifting from foot-to-foot, as if that helped warm them up. They all had a big mug of coffee, which did help warm them. Several cars passed by on their way out of town, the horns honking loudly and the people waving.

All the coaches wore gloves, trying to keep their hands warm. But it was their feet that felt the brunt of the cold standing on the asphalt parking lot.

This was how the weather was supposed to be all day, freezing cold. Temperatures were expected to drop into the upper teens by the start of the game with a wind-chill in the single digits, thanks to the strong wind in Stillwater.

The water might be still in Stillwater, but the winds weren’t, always blowing much worse than in the southeast part of the start where the trees and mountains blocked some of the breeze.

Lloyd was already in his bus seat, sleeping with his head on a pillow and a blanket covering his body. It was hard to get up this early in the morning after staying out most of the night, of course, and Cole barely got his oldest son out of bed.

Lucky was standing off to the side, waiting for his teammates to arrive so he could get a seat. He felt it was only right to let the upper classmen choose their seats and then let the sophomores pick among the leftovers.

Cole had told him it was okay to get a seat but Lucky declined. His ears were red as apples from the cold and his cheeks were turning crimson also.

He had on a black Petros sweat shirt, his favorite jacket, also black with Petros written across the front in white. His white baseball hat provided a little protection for his head. His faded jeans were not up to keeping his legs warm, nor were the basketball shoes on his feet.

It had been a rough week for Lucky, fighting the effects of his injury. He still hurt whenever his body did anything, a pain like Lucky had never had before and hoped never to have again.

He had missed practice all week, which hurt almost as much as his sore ribs. Nobody knew if he could play, waiting to see how Lucky reacted in the warm-ups. Gary would start at quarterback. They just hoped Lucky could play, if needed.

Lucky had slept badly the previous night, also, but that was nothing new. He had not slept well since hurting his ribs, only dozing off for brief periods, waking, then getting some more nods. Sleeping a whole night now was a distant memory, one Lucky hoped to remember soon.

It was like somebody turned a light switch on. Almost as if on cue, cars and trucks started pulling into the parking lot, dropping off the players. Some of the players drove themselves and parked their cars or trucks, paying no attention to the designated parking spots.

Players started coming from every direction, mostly silent as they examined the outside of the bus. Many looked like they just crawled out of bed, threw on some clothes and rushed to the school. There were some bad hairdos that morning, thankfully most covered with hats.

Some of the smarter ones carried pillows, better to help sleep on the trip. Talk was at a minimum and laughter and horseplay not existent, much to the coaches’ surprise.

“Not real jovial this morning, are they?” Stub asked.

“Nope,” Ichabod replied. “Nice choice of words, Stub. You been using your dictionary?”

Stub ignored the little dig, choosing to wait for the right opportunity to fight back. It was a little too early right now and his creativity seemed to be frozen like all the puddles on the ground.

Several of the parents escorted their sons and watched them get on the bus, getting a small wave or a smile for a goodbye. Even the parents seemed a little distracted, unsure of this day and what it held.

Many came over and wished the coaches good luck. It was strange for Cole as several of the parents were once his players and now he was coaching his second generation of players.

He tried counting all the players as they entered the buses, hoping everybody was there. Cole waited until the exact departure time.

“Let’s move ‘em out,” he hollered in his best John Wayne impression. Nobody seemed to think it was very funny, but Cole did not care. He thought it sounded kind of cool.

Everybody mounted up and the buses soon pulled out of the parking lot for the long trip. They passed through downtown, past all the banners and signs offering support and avoided the one stoplight, quickly passing out of the city limits.

As they approached Hodgen, Cole and Ichabod turned on the television and VCR and put in a tape. The players all looked up, wondering what was going on.

They were greeted with the image of Cole, sitting in his chair, smiling back at them.

“Good morning and welcome to Panther travel,” Cole stated. “Please sit back and enjoy the trip. For your enjoyment, we’ve prepared a special treat for you to help pass the time. The first tape is what I like to call Petros’ Greatest Hits and More. In this exciting tape, you will see the biggest hits and moments for your Petros Panthers as they travel along the road to Stillwater and tonight’s state championship game against Anson. So sit back, relax and enjoy.”

This was Lloyd’s idea and production. Cole originally did not want to do it, at least the silly introduction part, but decided it might help keep the boys loose and entertained. He looked around and saw the players’ attention was focused entirely on the tape.

Cole had watched the tape the previous night and was impressed. Lloyd had done a really good job, taking the big plays and hits and putting it on one tape. It even gave Cole goosebumps while watching it so he knew it would spark up his boys.

Many of the boys would try to sleep during the trip, but for those who didn’t want to sleep, or couldn’t, they put together enough tapes to keep everybody’s attention.

There were also tapes of the Panthers’ other two state championship games to follow the tape currently showing.

The bus edged slowly along the two-lane highway, through Hodgen by way of the bypass and some other small towns until finally getting a four-lane road at Sunset Corner. The buses turned east on Highway 9 and began making much better time.

Nothing slowed the buses down as they passed the Arkansas River and Kerr Lock and Dam, a sight Cole always admired even if he knew little about the massive structure. He just knew there was a lot of concrete and the bridge was awful high.

When the buses hit Wild Horse Mountain, just outside Sallisaw, they slowed considerably to go up the winding road. Several of the boys hollered to stop at Wild Horse Barbecue but the drivers ignored them, even though they wouldn’t have minded stopping for a chopped beef sandwich themselves if it wasn’t a little after eight in the morning.

The team ate breakfast at a restaurant in Sallisaw, a buffet set up with amounts of food that impressed the Panthers. Some of the players never ate breakfast and just got a little to tide them over. Some of the others made up for it, filling their plates to capacity and acting like they had not eaten in weeks.

Happy came strolling by the coaches, his plate overloaded with biscuits, gravy, eggs, sausage, bacon and even some waffles.

“Hey Happy, you better watch out,” Lloyd warned, looking at the plate. “You’re about a biscuit away from being a lineman.”

Happy stopped for a second, looked at his food, at Lloyd, then shrugged.

“So?” Happy responded. After all, there was seldom an opportunity to feast on such an impressive spread. And there were still a tub of pancakes he had not even touched. “You don’t got much room to talk, bubblebutt.”

Lloyd was taking a sip of milk and promptly snorted it back up through his nose, never expecting such a response. The other coaches laughed so hard they almost fell out of their chairs, even getting a smile out of Ichabod.

The huge trays of food were soon emptied. Many of the players walked a little slower on the way out, some hugging their stomachs to help carry the extra weight.

They were now set to embark on the easy part of the trip, all interstate and turnpike except for a brief period while driving through Tulsa.

The coaches turned on the televisions and VCR’s again and the players either watched the videos or went back to sleep.

The rest of the trip was pretty routine for the boys, the monotony of the road only broken up by the sights of Tulsa, a city some of the boys had never seen. As far as big places were concerned, Tulsa was nothing compared to Dallas, Houston and others, but for boys who seldom saw a building more than a couple of stories, the downtown buildings were fairly impressive.

“Wow,” stated Happy as they passed by some of the bigger buildings. “Can you imagine standing on top of one of those buildings and hawking off a loogie?”

“Not really,” Lucky answered, wondering where his friend came up with ideas like that.

The buses soon reached the outskirts of Tulsa, making good time since it was Saturday and traffic was fairly light. Sand Springs and Sapulpa were soon left behind and the buses were on the Cimarron Turnpike.

When they arrived in Stillwater, the players saw the T. Boone Pickens Stadium from the outskirts of town. It might not be as impressive as the Gaylord Family Memorial Stadium in Norman or hold as many people, but it was hard to tell that to a bunch of boys from a small town in southeastern Oklahoma.

This was a stadium in the Big 12 Conference rising into the sky.

“There it is,” Lucky advised, nudging Happy, who had been snoring away most of the time since his breakfast binge.

“It’s big,” Happy added.

The buses went by the stadium, just so the players could see it. The first game of the day started at noon and fans for the Class A championship game were already filing in.

They quickly passed by Oklahoma State University and made their way to the hotel where the team would rest until it was time to play.

Lucky wished they could watch the other games, but knew that was out of the question. Some of the guys would run around and get worn out instead of sitting and watching the game. They checked into the hotel and players were assigned rooms, two to a room.

It wasn’t the fanciest hotel but the rooms had two beds and a television.

Lucky and Happy put their stuff in their room then went back out to the buses. The team would soon eat lunch then come back and rest until it was time to go to the stadium.

It seemed like time was in slow motion all afternoon for the players and the coaches. They were used to having school on days when they had a game and now they had to lie on their beds all afternoon, resting and watching television.

Lucky and Happy watched some television, getting restless quickly. Lucky would have liked to get some more sleep, but was too excited to get any rest. He just wished the clock would speed up. Happy was soon snoring away again, amazing his friend.

He had no idea how Happy slept so much, it was almost like after every meal his friend had to sleep to help digest the food. Lucky was just glad he had control of the remote and Happy was not firing through the channels on the remote, switching them so quick it was hard to keep up.

“What are you looking for?” Lucky asked earlier as Happy wore out the button.

“I don’t know,” Happy answered, “but I’ll know it when I see it.”

There weren’t any college football games on since the bowl games were still a couple of weeks away. Lucky watched a little of a small college playoff game but it seemed a little slow for him. Finally, he settled on a college basketball game between Duke and Kentucky, two teams ranked in the top five.

He knew Happy would not care for his programming choice once he woke up, but Lucky was going to milk it until then.

Happy continued sleeping throughout the afternoon. Lucky would have worried about his friend still being alive if it weren’t for the baritone snores shaking the cheap paintings on the wall.

The time dragged slowly along, certainly not in any hurry. Lucky was antsy and ready to go. He hated not being able to do anything and staying inside, but knew that was what the coaches wanted them to do. If he had been at home and his ribs allowed it, Lucky would be outside shooting baskets or doing something.

The basketball game soon turned into a blowout as Kentucky took advantage of its home court and quickly built a huge lead. Duke could do nothing right, for a change, and the lead continued to mount, much to the delight of the huge Kentucky crowd.

It was a stunner, the announcer said, a man obviously in love with his voice because he exercised it continuously.

Lucky did not feel like it was such a stunner. It was almost impossible to beat one of the top programs when they played at home, even if the other school was ranked higher.

The basketball game ended and Happy finally woke up. He went to splash some water on his face and was delighted to come back to the bed and discover Lucky made the mistake of leaving the remote when he went to the restroom.

The rest of the afternoon was spent watching various programs for maybe two seconds then switching to another channel, never stopping.

“Doesn’t your finger ever get tired?” Lucky asked.

“Naw, it gets a lot of exercise doing this,” Happy answered.

Lucky buried his head beneath a pillow, the various images flying by giving him a headache.

The coaches brought by a small sack lunch to be used as the pre-game meal. All it had in it was a sandwich, chips, a drink and a cookie.

Happy tore his bag apart, a look of disappointment spreading.

“Where’s the rest?” he asked.

“The rest of what?” Lucky asked.

“Of the food,” Happy answered. “This wouldn’t fill up my grandmother.”

Not since his grandmother was probably pushing two-fifty on a five-foot frame, Lucky thought, but did not mention.

“Here, you can have my chips,” Lucky offered.

“Thanks!” Happy exclaimed, brightening up. “How bout that cookie?”

Lucky had his heart set on the chocolate chip cookie but took it out of the sack, tore it into two pieces and tossed half to his friend.

Happy looked at him in disbelief, not believing Lucky had not given him the whole thing. He looked at the half of a cookie setting in front of him, the other half on the bed beside Lucky.

“You kept the bigger half,” Happy informed him.

Lucky laughed at his friend and tossed him the other half, knowing what he did would irritate Happy.

Happy did not offer to give back the so-called “smaller” half, which came as no surprise to Lucky. He was not even hungry and wondered how his roommate could eat anything else, finally deciding all that sleep must have drained him.

The coaches finally came by and told the players to get their stuff together and get ready, that it was time to go.

Happy stuffed most of his sandwich in his mouth and tossed on his coat, leaving his trash on the bed. Lucky picked up his own trash, what little he was left with, threw it away and also cleaned up Happy’s mess, wondering how so many crumbs got scattered on the floor.

Everybody was walking out of the rooms, putting on their jackets to try and compensate for the strong wind blowing down from the north.. It was cold, much colder than it was earlier.

“Somebody needs to turn the heat on,” Happy commented as he jogged to the bus, his bag of chips hanging out of the back pocket of his jeans.

“Can you imagine anybody ever marrying that?” Lucky asked D.J., who was walking aside.

“That would give me nightmares,” D.J. responded.

Up ahead they saw Happy apparently had let go with one that scattered everybody around him on the bus, causing the driver to jerk his head around.

“Did you see what your friend just did?” D.J. asked.

“I thought he was your friend,” Lucky answered. “I’m sure everybody on the bus was glad he waited until he got inside to slice the cheese.”

Everything finally cleared and the players entered the buses for the short trip to the stadium. Up ahead, they saw the vans with all their equipment taking off before them.

The Class 3A game was still going on as the buses pulled up in front of the stadium’s north side, next to Gallagher-Iba Arena and let the players out.

The younger players helped empty the equipment out of the vans, handing it to the waiting players. They entered the gymnasium and were shown to their dressing room. It was a basketball dressing room and a little small for all the football players, but still much nicer than they were used to changing in.

Everybody was really getting a little nervous now, knowing what was at stake.

The coaches slipped out to watch the end of the previous game, getting to see the end of the Class 3A game and the trophy presentations.

“Wouldn’t it be cool if that was us getting one of those trophies?” Stub asked.

“We’ll get one of those trophies,” Cole answered.

“Yeah, but I want the bigger one.”

“That would be nice,” Ichabod agreed, looking even more stern than usual.

The game ended in a blowout as one of the schools from western Oklahoma won, as usual, without breaking a sweat. The school from the eastern side was embarrassed.

The coaches walked around Lewis Field, taking in all the sights and sounds. It seemed strange to see so many empty seats for such big games but it was hard for little towns to fill a fifty-thousand seat stadium. Still, the noise was impressive, trapped down in the little bowl.

They saw a bunch of Petros fans seated on the south side, under the press box, waiting for the fans from the earlier game to leave so they could get the good seats. The band was entering the stadium and Cole waved at them.

He knelt down to touch the playing surface, one of the new breeds of artificial turf which almost felt like grass but did not have the harmful effects of the old-time artificial turf.

“This feels like real grass,” Cole declared.

“I wish we were playing in the mud somewhere,” Ichabod replied.

“So do I,” Stub agreed. “It just doesn’t feel like real football if you don’t get your uniform dirty.”

Cole had to admit that was true, but also that it would be better if the field was a mess to try and slow down Anson, especially Wayman Hayes.

The more film he watched of Hayes, the more Cole was convinced the Anson junior was probably the best player Petros had faced in the last fifteen years.

He was fast, strong and had the instincts all the great backs had, knowing when to spin, to cut and to turn on the speed. That was not something a coach could teach. You either had it, or you didn’t.

It would be tough enough just trying to handle Hayes, but Anson had more weapons than any team Petros had faced. The Rams could burn an opponent many ways, but preferred handing off to Hayes and let him do his magic.

They had seen enough and decided to check on the boys. They were slowly getting dressed as one of the managers kept updating them on the status of the previous game. They would not be able to take the field until the previous teams left the field so they weren’t in a hurry.

The players were taped at the hotel and put on their pants. The only thing left was for the backs, ends and kickers to put on the jersey and helmets and go through the warm-ups, joined later by the linemen.

They would only have thirty minutes to get ready, a lot less time than usual but more than was really needed.

It was quiet in the locker room, too quiet for Cole. He felt the tension on the players, so heavy it could almost be cut with a knife. The players had to loosen up a little or they would not be able to perform. He wished Stub would do something to lighten the atmosphere, but his assistant was also nervous.

One of the managers finally came and said it was time to go. The players finished getting ready and headed for the door. Cole knew the players would be a little overwhelmed and just hoped they settled down quickly.

Anson was used to playing here in state championship games, his boys weren’t and Cole could tell it now more than ever.

The players jogged down the ramp to the playing field, all in awe. They looked around at the stadium, not saying hardly anything. Their mind was far from the game right now, just taking in the sights.

Cole wished they were playing this game at some high-school field. This was really more than the players could take, at least on their first visit.

They all had to stop and touch the field, wondering how the stuff felt. The Petros fans went crazy, seeing the Panthers approach the field. The roar was soon drowned out from the other side as Anson took the field in its maroon and yellow uniforms, looking much like the University of Southern California.

Anson had a smoke machine set up for the players to run through and a portable stereo system which blasted out music as the Rams came out on the field, further intimidating the Panthers.

“Wow,” Seth exclaimed.

“That’s cool,” added Kenneth.

“It doesn’t matter,” Lucky responded. “That doesn’t help them be a better team.”

“I don’t think they need much help,” D.J. interjected.

The sight of the Rams taking the field at the same time caused the Panthers to stop and watch their opponents, looking more like a college team than any high-school team they had seen.

“Man, they’re big,” D.J. added.

“And that’s not even their linemen,” Harry pointed out.

Cole got his team’s attention and had them take the field and begin warming up.

It was a disaster, the players unable to hold on to the ball, even on simple handoffs. Kicks were shanked and balls were bouncing everywhere.

Cole saw what was going on and was well aware of what was happening to his team, he just hoped they would adjust quickly. If they didn’t, Anson would only make the problems worse.

After a short period, the players retreated to the locker room to put on their shoulder pads and return with the rest of the team. It didn’t go much better, as this time the linemen added their mistakes on top of everything else.

The players couldn’t even got lined up straight for the stretching drills, even though they had done it practically every day since the first day of practice.

When the team lined up to run some plays, somebody would jump, Gary dropped the snap or a back would fumble. It looked worse than little league teams warming up, Cole knew.

“This isn’t good,” Stub commented. “The boys are wrapped a little tight.”

“You can’t hardly blame them,” Ichabod added.

“No, but we gotta get them straightened out somehow,” Cole responded. “Or this will get bad quickly.”

Cole waited a couple of more plays then sent his team to the locker room. The Petros fans cheered the team as it left the field, even though the Panthers’ performance so far did not merit any praise.

The players filed into the locker room and got something to drink. Everybody was so nervous and antsy they could not sit still or calm down.

Cole was getting a little irritated, even though he knew that would not help. Here they were in the biggest game of the year and the Panthers acted like they never played a game before. Sure, this was tough on them, but after this many games nothing should have this kind of effect.

“Guys, everybody needs to sit down, take a deep breath and relax,” Cole advised. The players sat down and tried to follow their coach’s suggestion but it didn’t seem to do any good. “You guys act like this is the first time you’ve ever played in a state championship game.”

The players looked around at each other with a look of puzzlement.

“Uh, Coach, this is the first time we’ve played in a state championship game,” Murray remarked.

Cole smiled, getting somebody to bite.

“I know, I was just joking. Listen, I know you’re nervous and I’m even a little nervous. Heck, Coach Stub was so nervous he yacked up his sandwich. That was not a pretty sight. Nobody can blame you for being nervous. But now’s the time we get our heads on right. We get to show the state of Oklahoma what Petros Panthers football is like.

“Nobody expected us to be here. Heck, nobody thinks we have a shot at winning this game. But I could care less. It doesn’t matter what anybody says or does, I believe in you guys. I have from that first practice and even after we lost the first three games. We could’ve folded the tent then and gone to the house. But we didn’t do it. We could’ve done it in the playoffs when we were behind and time was running out, but we didn’t.”

Cole knew he was getting a little too fired up and decided to tone it down. One thing the boys did not need right now was a super motivational speech.

“That’s because there’s more character in this room than any team I’ve ever coached,” he added. “This is your time. Go out there and play like there isn’t any tomorrow because for many of you, there isn’t. This is it. Your time to shine. I’ve said it all along and I’m gonna say it again, don’t be afraid to succeed.

“It sure beats the alternative. Now let’s go out there and shock everybody!”

Chapter 58

Chapter 56

2005-11-02T04:59:00.000-08:00

Cole had talked to coaches all over the state, trying to come up with any kind of weakness. Only one coach had found fault with Anson.

“Their uniforms are ugly,” the coach replied, then laughed much harder than Cole thought was necessary.

All the coaches responded with the same thing Cole saw on film. This was truly a great team with no weaknesses. You take the speed of Albion and the size of Honobia, combine those two into a team and it still would not match up with Anson.

Anson’s coach, Jerry “the Bull” Pitchford, called Thursday night. They were old friends from years before and that was the reason for the call, not to try and intimidate Cole or try to get any information.

“The more I see of your team, the more I like them,” Bull mentioned. “You guys just don’t quit and you don’t see that much anymore. Kids today are so spoiled and don’t want to give what it takes to win but your guys aren’t that way.

“Until I saw them on film, I didn’t know Honobia or Albion were so good. You guys sure didn’t have any cakewalk to get to the finals.”

“I don’t know what it would feel like to have a cakewalk,” Cole answered. “I think you guys have the market on that.”

“We’ve been very fortunate. But we haven’t faced the competition like you guys have. Summerfield was awful good, but I was glad to see you guys take them down. Their coach needs a lesson in manners.”

The two coaches bid their farewells, knowing they would have plenty of time to talk Saturday evening.

Cole was ready to go, tired of the waiting.

----------

Roughly a third of the population of Petros had left town by Friday evening, heading out on a road trip they hoped culminated with a state championship. There was a huge pep rally downtown that afternoon and most of the town's residents showed up.

This time, there were no worries of any problems from Hodgen. Every police officer in Petros was on duty, not that it was any huge detriment if problems started, but with over five hundred men walking around, keeping an eye on each other’s back and eyeing every suspicious vehicle, trouble would stay away this day.

Some politicians had to show up, of course, and tried making speeches, but soon figured out this was not the time or the place. The mayor was there, of course, along with the city council members, the school board members and state representatives and senators. They were glad for the opportunity to shake a few hands and make a few new friends who hopefully would remember them in the next election so the politicians would not have to get a real job.

The local state representative was itching for the opportunity to get at the microphone set up in front of city hall, constantly edging closer and trying to catch the eye of whichever speaker was currently using the object of his desire.

It was not a time for politics, most everybody knew that, but it was just the politician in him. He could care less about a silly football game, but that did not prevent him from dressing in black and white or from waving a little pom-pom which the representative hoped would get him a few votes to overcome the embarrassment of actually using the fluttering little thing.

The smile was always there, even as he continued to face the mounting disappointment of realizing nobody was going to ask him to say a few words. That was understandable since most of the people in the crowd knew those “few words” would multiply into many words as soon as the microphone was handed over.

The band’s music just blasted the downtown, the sound trapped against the buildings on both sides, making it louder than it ever had been. The superintendent and the mayor were the first to talk, but were smart enough to not use it to get across a political message. They knew why everybody was gathered together and it was not to hear them.

Instead, they talked of the pride the whole town felt about this group of student-athletes who bonded together both as a team and the town of Petros. The speeches were actually quite touching and heart-felt.

Several seniors made short speeches, talking about what this year meant to them and how they hoped to end it with the gold ball. They were not the most eloquent speakers, of course, and some mumbled, except when they thanked everybody for what this year meant to them.

The crowd roared “Petros Panthers” continuously, this noise also echoing around the downtown area, loud enough to be heard miles away. It was a sea of black and white, easily the largest crowd seen downtown since the Lion’s Club Fall Carnival in October.

Cole was scheduled to be the last speaker. When Kenneth asked him to come forward, Cole made it up on the large trailer used as a platform. Many of the seniors stood behind him, wearing the white shirts they would wear the following night.

He actually got a little choked up seeing all his guys up there, the ones who had been through the hard times and kept chugging on, leading this group to the state championship game. All their eyes were on him and his boys smiled at him as he took the microphone.

Cole looked out at the huge crowd. It was barely light enough now to see as the street lights on the corners did not provide much illumination to the center of the block. The Bank of Petros had all its lights on and the doors were open to help everybody see where they were going.

He saw his former players and students scattered throughout the crowd, along with parents, grandparents, brothers, sisters, cousins and friends. All the noise ended, waiting to hear what their coach had to say.

“Go Panthers!” he roared, raising his right arm.

That got a huge ovation as the crowd returned the salute. That was kind of neat, he decided, and did it again, getting the same reaction.

He let the noise settle down again, tempted to do the “Go Panthers!” thing again just cause it was cool. Sarah was standing toward his left at the edge of the crowd. Cole looked at her and smiled, enjoying the way she smiled back.

This was not everybody’s idea of a great date, but Sarah seemed to be having a great time.

“I can’t tell you how great this feels,” Cole declared. “We’ve been so blessed this year in so many ways and for that I give all the praise and glory to our Lord.”

Most of the crowd clapped loudly and hollered their support.

“God has been good to me and our boys this year,” he continued. “Sure, we’ve had to go through some hard times, everybody does. But He has stood there with us, always pouring down His mighty blessings on this team because of His love for us.

“Many people would probably say this is not the time for my testimony and they may be right. But I can assure you that my belief in a God above is real and none of us would be here without Him.”

Cole slowed down for a second to get his breath. He knew this was not what everybody wanted to hear but that was okay.

“This team has always tried to do the right thing in the right way,” he added. “Before every practice and game and then after it ends, we gather around together and pray. We don’t pray for wins as that comes from hard work and the blessings of our Master. I’ve always believed God gives you your best return, better than the stock market, the lottery or your pension plan.

“Whatever you give Him, He returns many times over. That’s something everybody in this audience needs to know and remember.”

Cole stopped to look at the reaction, seeing many people starting to get a little somber, which was not what he wanted.

“I’ve enjoyed coaching this group of guys as much as I have any team,” he continued. “I don’t want to take anything away from any of my other teams, but I’ve enjoyed this so much. I believe it would be impossible to find a better group of boys, especially in this day and age.

“There is a chemistry among this team like we’ve never had. I’ve had more talented teams and even a team or two which might win if there was some way to match them up, but no team has ever worn the black and white of this school with more guts, spirit and character. I guarantee you that.”

Cole was getting fired up, and saw the crowd was also getting up again.

“Back when we lost our first three games, I’d never predict this team would be where it is now. Yeah, we played three tough teams and lost those games, but many teams would’ve just thrown in the towel at that point. Did our guys? Nope, they just tore the towel up and got more determined. Now, look how far we’ve come. We’ve won eleven straight games and will be playing for the school’s first state championship about this time tomorrow night.

“I want everybody here to remember these boys and this moment. When we go through tough times, and all of us will at times, remember this team and how they came through the tough times with faith and hard work. That can get you through. I’m not gonna stand here tonight and promise a win tomorrow night. That’s not my style. But I can assure you we’ll do our best and nobody can ask for more.”

Cole turned around to see if his surprise was ready. A few of the players had gathered behind the trailer and nodded back at him.

“There’s somebody special I’d like to introduce now,” Cole announced. “This is a player who will not bang heads with a player from the other team tomorrow night. He’s frustrated me many times over the years, but we’ve dedicated this season and tomorrow’s game to him.”

Cole stepped back, as did several players, to reveal Garrett Long sitting in a wheelchair, also wearing his game jersey. It was the first time many had seen him since the accident and it took a second to recognize him. Garrett had lost a lot of weight, of course, and did not really look the same.

His body might be damaged, but not his mind. As the applause slowly started to grow, Garrett looked around at all the people, knowing all this clapping and hollering was for him. His eyes started to mist up, overcome by all this emotion. He felt his teammates touching him and supporting him, just like they had ever since the accident.

He saw Cole motion for him to come forward and say something. Garrett wanted to beg off, not knowing whether any words could even escape his mouth at this moment.

The noise kept rising and he knew everybody wanted him to say something, a stark contrast considering everybody used to wish he would keep his mouth shut.

His teammates slowly moved him forward and he did not resist. Garrett did not know if he could speak in front of this many people, but decided to give it a try.

Cole removed the microphone from the stand and handed it down. Garrett accepted it, holding it in his right hand.

He closed his eyes for a second, wishing the tears cascading down his cheeks would go away.

“You guys know I don’t deserve all this,” he began. “I’ve hurt many people and been a pain most of my life, you know that and I know that. I’ve done things I’m ashamed of and wish could be washed away. I didn’t just hurt one or two people, but hurt my teammates, my fellow students, teachers, coaches and especially my family.”

“To all of you, I want you to know how sorry I am and wish none of this ever happened. My life has changed over the last few weeks, and not just because I can’t use my legs anymore. I’ve reexamined pretty much everything and realized there needed to be a major overhaul. I was not the kind of person I needed to be to help others.

But I had this one visitor who just wouldn’t go away. He kept coming to see me, talking to me and counseling me. I don’t know why he did it. If anybody should have been happy about what happened to me, it should have been him. But whenever I felt down or needed somebody to talk to, he was there. He gave me my first Bible, showed me some of his favorite scriptures and sat with me for hours, talking to me and making sure I was okay.”

Garrett wiped away the tears with one hand and then grabbed the book in his lap for the strength it provided.

“I did some bad stuff to this guy, I can assure you that,” Garrett added. “I asked him why he was helping me and he said it was because that’s how we’re all supposed to treat each other. If you know somebody needs help, well, you should help them.

“We kept talking and grew closer. He helped me read the Sinner’s Prayer and led me to be saved, even called his pastor down to the church at midnight to make sure my soul was saved and all my sin was washed away. He didn’t have to do any of that, but I want him to know that while I’ll probably never walk beside him with these legs, that I will pay it forward.”

“I never knew what I wanted to do with my life until I laid in that hospital bed for so many hours and decided I need to dedicate my life to helping others. I know I haven’t said his name and know he wouldn’t want me to say who it was, but it was Lucky Lester.”

All the crowd turned to look in his direction. Lucky was standing with his teammates off to the side and started backing up, not wanting any attention. His teammates blocked his exit, holding him in his place.

Feeling trapped and seeing all the eyes upon him, Lucky waved and let it be. The crowd clapped and some hollered his name. Most people were not aware of the time he spent with Garrett and that was how Lucky wanted it. Lucky was now quite embarrassed, wishing everybody would start cheering again and thinking about Anson. He did not help Garrett for this. It just seemed the right thing to do. Everybody knew the kind of person Garrett was before the accident and how he treated Lucky.

But Lucky felt a special calling for his teammate and put the past behind him, hoping somehow to make a difference. Lucky knew he made a difference, as Garrett had few visitors other than family members.

They talked for hours, sometimes on important stuff, other times nothing more than discussions to pass the time. Garrett hated the hospital, of course, and hated being in a wheelchair. Lucky could not help him get out quicker or restore his legs, but did help Garrett see how his life could be different and how the problems might turn into assets.

Garrett’s bitterness started to fade away in the hospital. Lucky saw results every day that Garrett’s attitude was changing as he started reading the Bible like it was his calling in life.

Lucky was still young and had not done many things in his life, but was glad that in some way he touched Garrett’s life and might have made a difference.

When the applause finally died down, Garrett resumed speaking.

“I won’t be able to go to the game tomorrow night,” he added. “I’d love to be there but my doctor doesn’t believe I should go off that far. While I won’t be there in my body, I’ll be there in my spirit, every block, tackle, run and pass. I’m not gonna sit here and ask you to win one for me. That’d be very selfish. I ask you to win the game for all the coaches, players, students, parents and fans.

“We’ve surprised a lotta people this year and I hope we have one more stunner left. Go Panthers!”

The crowd roared again and even most of the men had to wipe away a little moisture from their eyes before anybody saw them.

Chapter 57

Chapter 55

2005-10-31T04:55:00.000-08:00

Lynn “Lucky” Lester thought he knew pain before. There had been bruises, sprains, aches and other assorted ailments. But true pain was introduced to him that night, courtesy of the hit in the football game.

The pain was there all night, a constant throbbing. His body was trying to remind him of the injury and tell him not to do anything stupid, like playing a football game later in the week, until his ribs and back were healed.

Lucky could not eat, cough, move or use the bathroom without feeling like a knife was poking him. Sleep would come and go away, the pain refusing to subside. It was necessary for him to sleep on his back and Lucky was not a sleeping-on-the-back kind of guy.

He was a side guy, the same side as those injured ribs. So as he slumbered away, his body would start to turn over and the pain would wake him.

Lucky had taken the pain reliever, the extra-strength kind, and now wished he had taken the doctor up on her offer to get some pain medicine.

She had wrapped his mid-section tight, trying to keep him from moving. Lucky had used ice all the way home, hoping to numb the pain and keep away any swelling. But the only thing numb was his brain as he lay awake in his bed, wishing for sleep to overtake him again.

Lucky heard his father and brother arrive earlier, Lloyd making enough noise to wake the dead. His father had come in to check on him and they talked for a few minutes, although even the simple act of carrying on a conversation was difficult.

He knew his father was concerned for him, but Lucky knew it would just take a little time and everything would be back to normal. He just hoped it would be by this weekend.

The thought of his team making it to the state championship and not getting to play was like his worst nightmare. Even though he was still young, Lucky knew how many players would give up practically anything to play in a game like this, that they played their whole lives to reach a state championship game, but never got the chance.

Now, he and his teammates had made it and Lucky was determined to play, sore ribs or none. Lucky knew he was only a sophomore and there might be another chance waiting for him, but also that there was no guarantee. He remembered Dan Marino reached the Super Bowl as a rookie with the Dolphins, but never made a return trip.

There was no sure thing when it came to athletics. Lucky had seen too many surprising things in sports ever to take it for granted, even if he did think Petros would be better next year.

So would a lot of the teams the Panthers played, in the district and also in the playoffs. All those teams would be gunning for Petros, wanting to knock the Panthers off their pedestal.

Lucky knew what was needed. A lot of ice the first day, followed by many trips to the old whirlpool tub in the gym. He expected to become good friends with the tub this week. Lucky did not like getting in scorching hot water, but it sure beat standing on the sidelines, watching his teammates playing for a state championship.

He wondered if Gabby was asleep yet, knowing she tended to be a night owl and could watch movies all night, get a couple of hours of sleep and look like she slept all night. If she had a private telephone and it wouldn’t hurt so bad to get out of bed, Lucky would call her. But he knew her mother would answer the phone, not really thrilled to be awakened in the middle of the night just so he could talk to Gabby.

Lucky knew her parents liked him, but doubted a call in the middle of the night would improve their relationship.

He looked out the window and watched the rain beat against the glass, seeing the water slowly descend down. Lucky knew it might be storming outside and his ribs hurt like the dickens on the inside, but his blessings had been overflowing lately.

How else could he explain all the good fortune which came his way? His football team had made it to the state championship game, something nobody expected. The Panthers had beaten two of the best teams in his class to make it, in a pair of upsets people would talk about for years.

Plus, school was going good, his grades were excellent, and his relationship with Gabby was getting better every day. He just enjoyed being around her, hearing her talk, watching her smile and feeling her next to him when they held hands.

It made life even better, Lucky was sure of that. It was sometimes scary how well they got along. They didn’t ever argue, both of them willing to compromise in a way many married couples never could.

Neither of them put pressure on the other to do something they were not comfortable doing, a decision they reached early.

He imagined Gabby lying on her bed with the covers of the bed pulled over her while she watched some chick flick, her eyes misting up like they always did at the end. Lucky wondered if she thought about him late at night when sleep would not come.

It was way too early to think about marriage, of course, Lucky was only concerned with taking it day-by-day, but knew if things continued to progress, he would not mind spending the rest of his life with her.

He just hoped she felt the same way.

----------

There had not been this much excitement in Petros in years. All everybody could think about, talk about or dream about, was Saturday’s game against Anson for the state championship.

As people gathered together at church, in stores, the library or at each other’s house, the conversations were dominated by talk about the Panthers. There was some concern about the trouble downtown Saturday night with the Hodgen people, but luckily nobody was seriously hurt and the people who started it would have a lot of time to think about their actions in the county jail.

Most people had travel plans completed by noon on Monday. The booster club had chartered buses for those wanting to go to the game and not wanting to drive. Most of the churches also planned to take their buses to the game and return after it was over.

It was a good three hour trip to Stillwater from Petros, so many people decided to make it a weekend, going up early to watch some of the other championship games, then getting hotel rooms.

They discovered quickly hotel rooms in Stillwater were not so easy to come by, however, and they had to resort to staying in Oklahoma City or Tulsa, an hour’s trip in both directions.

Nobody cared, though. The Panthers were going after the gold ball Saturday and life was good. There were, of course, some residents who would not go to the game, mostly the elderly residents who either did not care about football or their health prevented the trip.

Practically everybody else would go. The people around town joked all week about how Petros would seem like a ghost town Saturday. Even the Sonic and other restaurants would close so their workers could go to the game.

Several churches had already cancelled services for the following Sunday, knowing most of their members would be gone, and that allowed the preachers to make the game also. Of course, they planned to have most of those people on their bus so they would sort of have church a little early and in a different way than usual.

All around town, banners were hanging, along with Petros flags. All the windows were painted with signs supporting the Panthers and urging them to bring home the gold ball. The little neon portable signs along the highway were not advertising any specials, urging support for Petros instead.

The Petros Weekly Herald already had a special edition out by Monday to celebrate the win with another one scheduled for Friday, with the regular issue coming out on Wednesday. It would be a tough week for Scoop, of course, but he was going on adrenaline, like many others.

Hodgen’s radio station would broadcast the game for everybody not making the trip, and for the other county residents. The advertisements were sold out in less than an hour, the local businesses wanting to make sure this special occasion was made possible to everybody.

People tried to go about their business as usual, but found it difficult. At school, nobody could get into learning that week, acting almost like they did the last week of school before Christmas or summer vacation. The teachers did their best, of course, but knew it was a losing battle.

For the businesses, they really had a bad week, nobody wanting to spend money that needed to be saved for the road trip to the finals. That did not mean people would not come in the stores, of course, it just meant that when they did, it was usually to talk about the game and discuss the Panthers’ chances, instead of buying anything other than necessities.

The school’s website got more traffic than it had all year. Old alumni who lived away visited the site to get all the details about the win over Honobia and the Anson game. Petros had a lot of alumni in Oklahoma City and Tulsa, and they planned to make the game, wanting to show their support and experience it.

Cole had so many phone calls it seemed like he spent most of his time talking to people, many he did not know and could not recall talking to later on. There were interviews with both major newspapers, along with the Anson paper, plus the Fort Smith television stations visited to do stores on the Panthers’ success.

Other coaches from around the state called, offering good luck. Knowing the Panthers needed it also, but neglecting to say so. There were cards of congratulations from all the universities and colleges, with handwritten messages from the head coaches.

Cole had been through this before, of course, but forgot how hectic it was. If it was this hectic playing in a high-school championship game, he had no idea how coaches in the colleges and pros got through national championship games and Super Bowls.

The Panthers would leave early Saturday morning in chartered buses. They had several planned stops for the players to use the restroom and stretch their legs. The bus would arrive early in the afternoon, allowing the Panthers to check into their hotel and rest until it was time for the game.

Cole had his team stay in a hotel the night before a game before, but it was a bad mistake. The players had not gotten enough rest from trying to sleep in a strange environment, so Cole had decided from then on if there was any chance to keep his players in their own bed that was the right thing to do.

His players seemed a little overwhelmed by all the attention, not used to seeing television cameras at practice and having to talk to people they had only seen before on television. It was cool for a while but the players also wished all the people would fade away and let them concentrate on getting ready to play Anson.

They needed something as practices were terrible, the worst Petros had looked all season. The players’ focus was scattered and assignments were missed on plays the players knew like the back of their hands.

It looked to Cole like the players had met a goal of getting to the state championship and that was good enough. He wondered how it could be this way. It was good to get to this point, of course, but he and the players should want to win state. Maybe he and the other coaches had put so much emphasis on getting to the title game and not enough about winning.

Cole knew the players were tired and beat up. They had been playing football for almost five months without a break and that was a lot to ask from a bunch of young men. Still, he expected a better attitude from the players, who had never been this overwhelmed before.

But there was a first for everything. The players were highly agitated, getting angry with each other over the missed assignments and other errors. So the coaches tried to get the players ready for Anson while also playing peacekeepers.

Lucky could not practice, per orders from the doctor. He was in such pain practice would be too much anyway so Gary got the snaps at quarterback.

Gary tried to get the players to straighten up on offense, along with Derwin on defense, but it did not seem to do any good. Everybody was just too tired.

Practices were terrible on Monday and Tuesday. When practice started the same way on Wednesday and did not show any signs of improvement, Cole called the team together.

They expected him to give them a good rear chewing, but their coach surprised them.

“We’re going to call off practice,” he announced. “There are a lot of things we need to work on but it’s not gonna do us a bit of good to practice until you guys are ready. I want everybody to go home, get some good rest and come back tomorrow ready to go. So don’t be out running any marathons, staying out late with your sweeties or getting into trouble. Rest up and tomorrow will be better.”

Several of the players just sat there, looking at each other with a look of disbelief. Here they were fixing to play the most important game of their life and their coach just sent them home.

They were also frustrated with how practices were going, but were certainly caught off guard by this. The players gathered up the equipment and started walking toward the locker room.

That was the first night Lucky got any good sleep since the game. His ribs still hurt, but the dull, persistent throb was not always present.

Whenever he moved, his ribs reminded him they were injured. But if he could be still, the pain went away. Lucky hated to see practices going so badly also, knowing the old saying of “how you will practice is how you will play” held a lot of truth to it.

He wondered if things would be different if the doctor allowed him to practice, but did not think it would change much. Lucky was worn out also, having gotten less sleep than most of his teammates. He was also tired of wearing ice packs and taking whirlpool baths.

His skin was either frozen or all wrinkled from the water. Lucky was glad nothing was broken, but did not feel like it could hurt worse.

He really did not feel like going to church that night, but would feel worse about missing the service. Lucky and Gabby went to the service and the calmness of the church sent away all the worry and the pain. Lucky relaxed for the first time, although the pew wasn’t exactly comfortable to sit on with his injury.

The service was great. Pastor Furman talked about the different ways God showed his love for his people and the great returns people got from Him. Pastor Furman said the more a person gave to God, the greater the reward would be.

It wasn’t just about finances, but about every way a person could give to God, through their time, effort, talent, witnessing and just helping out those who needed a helping hand.

Lucky was proud of Gabby, as she now brought a Bible to church and showed more interest every week. She used to act like the only reason to come was to be with him but Pastor Furman’s messages had reached her.

Several of his teammates were also at the service, along with Cole and Ichabod. They had worked on getting Stub to come to Wednesday services but he felt like going Sunday mornings met his quota for the week.

When they left the service and walked outside, they were met with the first snow of the year, a light misting forming on the autos but melting as it hit the ground. Lucky and Gabby stood under the cover of the driveway, watching the snowflakes drift down from above.

“That is so pretty,” she declared.

“Yep,” Lucky agreed.

She pulled away from him and gave a dirty glare.

“You’re supposed to say ‘Just like you’,” Gabby responded.

Lucky smiled, still watching the snow. Two young boys were trying to make snowballs off the snow from the hoods of a car, not having much luck.

“You’re much better looking than a bunch of snow,” Lucky added.

----------

Lucky had started it years earlier, keeping all the newspaper clippings on the Petros teams. He had quite a bit gathered up already, and was kept busy that week, cutting out every article about the Panthers. The coaches did not recommend the players read the articles, not wanting them to get a big head or get discouraged.

He read them all, of course, along with most of his teammates. Lucky was a little disappointed to see the lack of respect for his team as all the writers wrote about was how Saturday’s game with Anson should be a blowout.

Lucky thought this was a little strange as most of the people considering themselves experts never saw Petros play. Now if somebody had watched both the Panthers and Anson play and voiced that opinion, he would not have any problem with it.

But somebody who did not know where Petros was or even what color the uniforms were, but acted like an expert did not make Lucky happy.

The Panthers were always treated as an afterthought, most of the articles centered around how Anson might be the best Class 2A team ever. There were also stories about how Anson would be even stronger next year, a scary thought for Lucky, who after watching film wondered how any team could be that good or get better.

One of the writers from the Oklahoma City newspaper surprisingly wrote a good story about Petros. He did not predict an upset win, but wrote about how impressive the Panthers’ turnaround had been from starting with three straight losses and now winning eleven-straight games.

Lucky was bothered so much attention was devoted to him and whether he would play. He really wished the attention was directed to the seniors as they were the real leaders on the team and deserved most of the credit.

His father would not let any of the writers talk to the players so Lucky had not been able to get this message out, although it was one that needed to be voiced. He read the story in the local paper, enjoying Scoop’s rather wordy article.

It was homerism at its best, even predicting a shocking upset that would startle the state. Lucky doubted a Petros win would make little difference to ninety-nine percent of the people in the state, but Scoop’s story said the Panthers’ win would cause jaws to drop and amazement in the lives of all the residents of the great state of Oklahoma.

Scoop had obviously not seen any film of Anson, Lucky quickly determined after reading about how Petros would win the game in a huge upset and the writer would not be surprised if the game was a blowout.

Lucky knew that would look really good on Anson’s bulletin board, and his father would cringe when he read that story. But Lucky also knew some people would take it as the gospel, that whatever Scoop said was true.

If the prediction helped the confidence of his teammates, that was great. For Lucky, it did not matter because he knew Scoop wasn’t the most knowledgeable football expert.

Lucky did think Petros could win. It wasn’t a “should” win, because he knew what the Panthers would go against. But Lucky was also aware of how well Petros had played and rose to the occasion so many times.

Sure, all the Anson games had been blowouts this year, but Lucky doubted any of the Rams’ opponents put up the struggle Petros would.

Lucky just hoped he could play. Since he missed so much practice, Lucky knew starting was out of the question. There was a chance he could play, but only if the doctor said it was okay and the pain was not so bad.

----------

Thursday’s practice was much better as the players responded to Cole’s tactics, the extra rest giving them more spirit. The coaches put the players through another light practice, going over Anson’s tendencies.

Cole sent them home early again, not even running them at the end of practice. He decided if the players were not in shape now, having them run a few extra gassers would not make any difference.

Not making them run might give them fresher legs, however, which they needed. He sent the boys home, again telling them to be sure and get lots of rest.

Cole escaped quickly to his home, wanting to spend another night watching film of Anson. He had spent so much time with film that Anson was becoming very familiar to him. The biggest problem was the starters played so little as the games were blowouts that it was difficult to get a lot of information on of the starters.

He just knew they were big, fast, talented and used to winning. That was a dangerous combination. His players were not as big, fast or talented, but also were used to winning. Cole doubted Anson’s players had the heart his players did after all the Panthers overcame to get to this point.

Cole knew heart and character might not mean much to the average person, but it was huge to him. He had seen a lot of teams beat better and more talented teams by wanting to win more and by having better character, primarily refusing to lose.

That was how he felt about his boys. They were not the most talented team, of course, but they had great character and heart. He didn’t know any other reason for them to beat all these teams that had more talent.

He just hoped it carried over one more time.

Chapter 56

Chapter 54

2005-10-28T04:51:00.000-07:00

Word about the celebration spread quickly, even to Hodgen, where the Bulldogs were in no mood for a celebrating since they lost the night before.

Since they could not celebrate, some Hodgen residents decided their neighbors should not be celebrating, either. Many football players, their friends, former players and other students decided to see what was going on in Petros and how they could mess it up.

It was a long line of vehicles that would cause concern if the police noticed the convoy. There wasn’t really any reason for anybody to worry, however, as the two towns had lived in peaceful existence for almost a hundred years, except for the occasional problem during the week of the football game.

Many of the residents knew each other and worked with each other.

The residents had supported their neighbors in times of trouble and when the other school participated in playoff games. There had been times of trouble, there always were in a rivalry this intense, and Cole usually did not want his players going to Hodgen during the week leading up to their games.

But as far as real trouble, that had never really occurred. But that was about to change.

The crowd was gathered downtown, practically filling up a city block, all cheering and celebrating.

The first in a long line of cars and trucks that made the short trip from Hodgen turned on Main Street, horns honking and insults flying. Several trucks followed closely behind the car, their beds filled with boys and men who had enough liquid courage they would fight the world.

The first beer bottle that was thrown landed just short of where the band was playing, sending glass flying in all directions. Another beer bottle was thrown into the crowd, hitting a high school girl just above the eye, opening a gash that looked like somebody slashed her with a knife.

More bottles flew in as more cars and trucks edged closer to the crowd, revving their engines, cranking their stereos to the maximum.

The boys and men from Petros were not enjoying this behavior and started advancing, dodging the beer bottles flying through the air. A call was sent out to the Petros police, advising them trouble was brewing.

Petros’ police staff was manned by one officer at that time, the other officer scheduled to be on duty having taken the day off to go watch the football game, then go to his father’s cabin.

The one officer on duty was Benjamin Paul, who had been a police officer all of three months. Standing only five-foot-seven and weighing 152 pounds, he was not the most imposing person in Petros. He had gone to the Sonic and was halfway through a footlong coney, minus the cheese and onions, when the call came over his radio.

He took one last big bite, washed it down with a drink, put the food back in the bag for later and left his parking spot, squealing the tires just a bit as he rounded the back, wanting everybody to know he had a call.

Nobody ever advised him what to do when a riot was developing in his downtown, although he figured the dispatcher was overreacting. Still, he turned the lights on, weaved in and out of traffic at a speed which was a little too high, crossed the railroad tracks and started back downtown, wondering why so many cars and trucks were advancing on downtown.

After turning on Main Street, Benjamin quickly decided he was out of his league and needed help. His downtown was fixing to explode, two large groups of people advancing on each other and more arriving quickly. He had sworn to uphold the peace and planned to do just that.

He just wasn’t sure how.

Benjamin put a call back to the dispatcher, urging her to get every police officer, highway patrolman and county cop to Petros pronto. The call went out, catching many officers either off-duty or eating their own dinner.

The two groups edged closer and Benjamin knew enough about human nature that they could not stand there long shouting at each other before one side advanced, then all the cops in this part of the state would have trouble breaking it up.

Benjamin pulled up as close as he could, got out of his car and ran to the center of trouble, seeing beer bottles tossed at his friends and neighbors. Bumper stickers caught his eye, letting him know the people were from Hodgen.

Figures, he thought. Benjamin pulled out his club and ran between the two groups, waving his arms and trying to get everybody’s attention.

On the Petros side, there were still a few players present and wanting to defend their town and friends from the invaders.

Walter Lee, one of Cole’s former players from two years earlier, gathered all of the current players together.

“You guys gotta go,” Walter directed.

“No way,” argued Denny Wall, whose cousin was the girl who got hit in the head with the beer bottle.

“Listen!” Walter hollered. “We can take care of this. There’s gonna be trouble and people arrested. You guys have got to get out of here before you get in trouble. Coach will make you miss the game if you get in trouble, even if somebody else started it."

Denny and the other players looked at each other, realizing what Walter said was true. Still, it was hard to walk away when people were attacking your town.

A beer bottle was thrown through the glass at the hardware store, breaking the huge window. For a brief second, there was silence, nobody believing this was happening.

Travis Toll was Jeremy’s brother. Their father owned the hardware store and he did not like seeing the front window broke. His father had worked his tail off to make that store work and Travis knew how much it would cost to fix the broken glass and how disappointed his father would be.

He could not let this happen.

Travis had no idea who threw the bottle, but as far as he was concerned, it was guilt by association. Whoever he got his hands on would pay. Unlike his younger brother, Travis was not small. He stood six-foot-two, weighed well over two hundred pounds, most of it solid muscle. He graduated two years before, but still worked out daily and could pass for a bodybuilder.

Benjamin was trying to keep the peace, praying for help to arrive. He saw his neighbor Travis sprinting toward the other side and tried holding him back, but couldn’t.

Travis had his eyes on the first guy standing in front of him. The guy from Hodgen never saw it coming and received a blow to the jaw that sent him sprawling to the ground, a couple of teeth flying into the crowd.

The Hodgen guys did not like to see one of their own get knocked out, and they advanced against Travis, who was standing in front of them, ready to take on every one of them.

He did not have to, of course, since there were some fifty other Petros guys coming to his aid. Benjamin was blasting his whistle, running around like Barney Fife, but not having any luck. The beer bottle, this one manufactured by the so-called “King of Beer” was thrown from the back of the group, not aimed at anybody in particular.

It couldn’t have hit the target if he was the intended victim, but out of blind luck, which Benjamin would consider to be bad luck, the bottle hit him right in the face, breaking his nose and knocking out most of his front teeth.

Benjamin went down like he was shot, the blood already making a puddle at his feet before his knees touched the ground. Two men went to help Benjamin.

That was the last straw. The men and boys from Petros went after the guests. The fight was about even with around fifty men on both sides.

Of course, that was not to stay that way for long. Calls had already gone out, telling others what was happening downtown. Other men and boys felt the call of duty to rescue their town and arrived to find a huge fight covering their downtown.

The odds were soon against the visitors from Hodgen, as they quickly saw there wasn’t just one or two Petros guys in front of them, but were getting surround by four or five, all wanting a piece of them.

Some men arrived to try and break up the fight, but found it useless. The men had their blood up now and wanted to extract some pain from the other side.

It soon turned into a bloodbath, the men and boys from Hodgen, realizing they had made a terrible mistake as they got pummeled to the ground. They sobered up quickly, wondering why they made this trip. There were bodies all over the ground when extra security arrived and the fighting was over for the most part as Petros had defended its soil from the invaders and delivered a beating like nobody had seen before.

Most of the Hodgen men were down, some truly hurt, others playing possum to avoid a further beating. A few Petros men were hurt also, but not nearly as many as there were Hodgen guys.

It was an ugly sight, one that would never be forgotten.

For the people of Petros, it was a sobering way to end what had been a glorious day.

----------

Cole was stunned when he heard about the riot downtown. Sarah called him on the cell phone and told him what happened.

He nearly dropped the phone into his food. The coaches had stopped to eat dinner at a restaurant in Henryetta. It was a small diner famous for the pies, but few people were eating at the moment. There were two waitresses, both bored, talking to each other behind the counter and flirting with the cook, a large Mexican with a mustache that extended past his chin.

The other coaches waited for Cole to finish before asking what happened.

“There was a big fight downtown,” he informed them, not wanting to finish his meal.

“What happened?” Lloyd asked, now wishing he had gone home with the team.

Cole relayed the information about the group from Hodgen coming to Petros to stir up trouble and getting more than they bargained for.

“Were any of our guys hurt?” Ichabod asked, the thought of having to take on the juggernaut from Anson with half a team causing indigestion.

“I don’t think so,” Cole answered. “We had a few guys there but they were told to go home and did.”

“That’s good,” Stub stated, a big mouthful of food making it hard to understand. “Did anybody get hurt?”

“I don’t know. From what I understand there are a bunch of guys from Hodgen who will be spending the holidays in jail or the hospital.”

The extent of the event would not set in until they saw the pictures the next day and heard the stories from the witnesses. Cole was just relieved none of his current players were involved, although he expected some of his former players took part in it and made those idiots from Hodgen wish they had stayed home.

They all wanted to get home quicker, to find out what really happened.

Cole was truly bothered, both by the events in Petros and from what he had seen at the other semifinal game.

He had seen some really good football teams over the years in his class, several of those from Anson. But Cole had just witnessed a team like he had never seen before.

“You okay?” Ichabod asked.

“You look like somebody put rat droppings on your food,” Stub mentioned.

“I was just thinking about Anson,” Cole responded. “Those boys are good.”

“You’d think they would have to recruit to get so many studs,” Lloyd said.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they could go up two classes and win state,” Stub added.

“Yeah, but we’re gonna have to figure out how to keep them from winning our class,” Cole informed them. “That’s probably the best team Anson’s ever had.”

“It’s just not fair,” Stub protested. “A team should either be big or they should be fast. When they’re big and fast it makes it almost impossible to win.”

“Yeah, and it would be a lot better if they were good on offense or defense,” Ichabod continued. “When they’re good on both sides, that makes it even tougher.”

“We’re gonna have all kinds of trouble stopping them,” Lloyd commented, which earned him a dirty look from Ichabod. “We’ve never played anybody with that kind of size and speed and that running back’s something else. I don’t know that he got tackled all night.”

“Our defense is a lot better than Windsor’s,” Ichabod reminded Lloyd. He was having some of the same doubts Lloyd and the other coaches did, but still did not like anybody insulting the black shirts.

“Windsor wouldn’t have gotten past the quarterfinals in our bracket,” Stub remarked. “Those guys were weak.”

“I think part of that was who they were playing,” Cole replied.

“Naw, those guys stink,” added Lloyd. “We would’ve rolled half a hundred on ‘em if we wanted.”

“Maybe, but Anson rolled eighty-four on them,” Stub stated. “We have trouble scoring that many points in basketball, let alone football.”

“And it could have been worse,” Lloyd added. “Anson’s coach was kind. He called off the dogs fast.”

“That sounds strange,” Stub mentioned. “Hearing somebody say a coach was kind right after his boys scored eighty-four points on another team. But it’s true. If that’d been that Summerfield’s coach they’d still be scoring touchdowns.”

“Maybe their bus will break down next week,” Lloyd suggested. “Then they’d have to forfeit.”

“That would be a really good thing to tell the boys in practice this week,” said Cole, a little irritated at his older son. “I don’t think we can beat Anson but we better show up just in case their bus breaks down and they have to forfeit.”

“Stranger things have happened,” Stub said.

“I wouldn’t want to win like that,” Cole pointed out.

“Neither would I,” Ichabod added.

“I’d take it,” Stub countered.

“A win’s a win,” Lloyd said, then laughed.

Cole blanked out the conversation among the three others, not wanting to be rude but wishing to focus on plans for the coming week. He knew it would be difficult to win this game, especially if Lucky did not play.

He wondered how Lucky’s ribs felt and whether he would play. Cole knew that the only way Lucky would not play was if the doctor held him out.

The boy would not play if there were any chance of permanent danger, Cole didn’t care if it did cost Petros a state championship. This wasn’t something he would only implement on his son, but it would be that way for any of the Panthers.

A win was not that important to Cole. Sure, sleep would be difficult for a while if it was a difficult loss, but Cole doubted he could ever get a good night’s sleep if he played a player who shouldn’t be playing and that boy got hurt.

He knew Lucky was hurting bad and that ribs were usually not quick to respond. It took time for the pain to go away. They could provide him with a rib pad like they did earlier in the year, but while that provided an extra layer of protection in case of a hit, it would not ease pain already existing.

Cole would never admit it to anybody, but he thought Lucky had improved more this season than any other player on the team. Lucky was now a definite asset at quarterback, a player other teams had to worry about. Not just some sophomore trying not to mess up, like he was early in the season.

Lucky was now one of the best quarterbacks Cole had coached, having the rare ability to hurt the other team with his legs, his arms and brain. Other quarterbacks had been gifted in one of those areas and some in two, but it was rare to have somebody talented in all three areas.

Cole knew Lloyd was that way, although sometimes his oldest son acted like he was having a brain cramp, and Tatum Sloan had been that way.

When Tatum was playing, there wasn’t a team in the state Cole was afraid to play and he expected to feel the same way about Lucky in the future. As to comparing Lucky with Tatum as sophomores, there was no comparison.

Tatum was good as a sophomore, but only truly blossomed as a junior, his improvement a surprise to everybody on that team. Cole had no idea if it would happen with his son, but if Lucky made that kind of improvement, he would be a stud.

Cole wished he gave Gary a bigger hug. He certainly deserved it, along with the game ball Cole presented him after the game.

Gary stepped up big for his team, not showing any effects of not playing much at quarterback over the second half of the season. He wasn’t all that talented as a quarterback, but nobody had a bigger heart or tried harder.

Cole knew the Panthers would put up the equipment on Monday if it weren’t for Gary, and for that he was extremely grateful.

They finished their food and started back on the long drive to southeastern Oklahoma. The drive down the interstate was boring for Cole, each mile looking almost the same as the preceding one. He wondered how anybody drove trucks for a living. It would be too boring to him, although Cole always wanted to go around the country and see the sights. Seeing them from the interstate just wasn’t his cup of tea.

Stub and Lloyd were having a good time in the back, cutting up and telling stories. They acted like best buddies, despite the age difference. Cole wondered how his oldest son could be so different, always looking to have a good time and not worry about anything.

Cole sometimes wished he did not worry so much, but doubted it was possible to be as carefree as Lloyd. Life was a party for him. He stayed out of trouble, but pushed the envelope at times.

He knew Lloyd could be an excellent coach if his son ever got serious, and would have a relationship with the players Cole never had. Lloyd would be a player’s coach, there was no doubt about that.

Even now, the players loved to hang out with him, listening to his stories and the never-ending supply of jokes. Cole also knew Lloyd had football smarts Stub and Ichabod did not have.

Cole knew Ichabod and Stub could be a good head coach, but they could not take a team to a higher level like the best coaches. Few coaches were able to do that, but Cole was convinced Lloyd had the talent to do so, if he ever got the desire.

Ichabod and Stub had opportunities over the years to leave Petros and be head coaches, but they always turned them down. None of the jobs were good programs and his two assistants were about as far up a ladder as they could climb without falling off.

Now, as far as assistant coaches went, Cole could not ask for anybody better. Ichabod was a great defensive coordinator, but would not be as good of a head coach because he would have trouble getting the kids motivated.

Ichabod was a great teacher and an X’s and O’s coach, but would have trouble pulling a team together.

Stub would have the kids fired up to play, probably too fired up, but was not the most organized individual around. Now, if there were some way to combine the two, that would make an excellent head coach. But apart, they were good assistants and Cole always felt fortunate to have them.

Cole was just glad they accepted this and never went through the disappointment of being a head coach and getting canned for losing too many games.

With his eyes getting heavy, Cole decided it was time to let somebody else take over the driving. All the other coaches would be happy to drive, but Ichabod would take forever to get home, Stub drove all over the road, not letting the two lines interfere with his driving, while Lloyd would get them home quickly, hopefully without a ticket.

Cole pulled over at a gas station at the nearest exit, appalled at the gas prices posted on a sign. They were a good five cents a gallon more than any other place they passed.

He swapped places with his son, hoping not to be awakened by the flashing lights of a highway patrolman.

“Don’t speed,” Cole pleaded, handing Lloyd the keys.

“No problem,” Lloyd responded, then hopped in the car, turned on the radio and revved the engine. “Hold on, boys, we’re moving out.”

Chapter 55

Chapter 53

2005-10-27T05:00:00.000-07:00

All the cars, trucks and buses formed a caravan for the trip back to Petros. It seemed to stretch for miles, backing up traffic. As they passed through towns, all the people stopped and stared, wondering what was up with the lunatics with all the banners and their cars and trucks painted.

Cole, Ichabod, Stub and Lloyd were not in the caravan, actually heading in the opposite direction. They left quickly after the game was over, letting a couple of teachers ride on the team bus to make sure the players did not tear anything up.

The coaches were heading to Norman, home of the University of Oklahoma, to hopefully arrive in time to watch the other semifinal game between Anson and Windsor.

Lucky was riding home with Sarah and Gabby, knowing the car ride would be a lot less rough than the bus. He would have liked to enjoy the celebration with his teammates, but did not feel like laughing and yelling.

He and Gabby were sitting in the backseat, holding hands. Before they left the stadium, they had wrapped an ice bag next to the injured area, numbing the pain a little and making him feel like he was freezing.

It had been his father’s suggestion for him to ride home with the doctor, one Lucky jumped on, after making sure it was okay if Gabby accompanied him.

Gabby and the doctor had barely met before today but were talking like they had known each other for years. Gabby was not really sure what she wanted to do with her life, was considering the medical field, and talked it over with Sarah.

Lucky closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but it was hard with the pain and his side and back freezing. It hurt even to breath, let alone talk so he sat still and thought about playing for a state championship. He knew it would be Anson and that excited him, getting a chance to play against a team with that kind of tradition.

Anson had ruined the previous two trips to the state championship for Petros and Lucky hoped the third time was the charm. The thought that his ribs might keep him from playing had not entered his mind, nor would it. Lucky wondered what it would feel like playing at Lewis Field in a stadium that could host over fifty thousand people.

There wouldn’t be that many people there, of course, but it would still be memorable. He had been there before, of course, and remembered what everything looked like, but it still wasn’t the same as it would be to actually play there.

Gabby and the doctor continued talking a mile a minute, seldom letting any kind of lapse disturb their conversation. Lucky wondered how people could talk this much as the gift of gab was never given to him.

He could hold up his end of a conversation, if necessary, but could not imagine talking this much to anybody, even Gabby or his father. Gabby was a talker, as was Doctor Moore. Since Lucky did not care to talk, that was fine with him. He answered when asked a question, but otherwise stayed to himself, enjoying feeling Gabby next to him, just wishing she would sit still and stop squirming so much.

----------

Going the opposite direction at a speed which pushed the allowed limits set by the Oklahoma State Highway Patrol, Cole and the coaches were driving down Highway 9, a two-lane road trying to get to Norman in time for the kickoff of the Anson game.

The coaches were acting like a bunch of teenagers on their first road trip, laughing, joking and telling stories about themselves and each other. This was the first time Lloyd got to experience this and while some of the stories were lame, it was good to see these men having a good time.

Cole participated in the fun, but his thoughts were elsewhere, wondering how Lucky was doing. He also missed Sarah, which he found to be a strange emotion. Other than his sons, there had not been any reason to miss anybody else in so long that it felt weird.

The small towns dotting the roads went by, not having any luck in luring Cole and his party in to spend money. They had already gone by several and were on the outskirts of Norman.

They finally arrived in Norman. Cole took a couple of shortcuts and they parked near the Gaylord Family Memorial Stadium.

This monument to Oklahoma University football amazed him every time he saw it. Now at over 80,000 capacity, more people could attend a football game here than there were people in over ninety percent of the cities in Oklahoma. He usually tried to attend a game here every year but failed this year.

The thing he remembered most about this stadium was the noise produced in this bowl, a roar that sounded louder than a jet airplane roaring above. He wondered what it would feel like to play in this stadium with it filled. Cole figured people got used to it but just being close gave him chill bumps as he thought of all the great teams and players who played here.

They hurried to the pass gate and entered the stadium, quickly walking through an opening to the stands. They could sit up in the press box if they wanted, but since the weather was fairly nice now, Cole wanted to sit in the stands.

This was the Anson side and some of the fans saw Cole and the coaches and figured out by the black jackets with the big “P” on it where they were from. A few fans congratulated the coaches on beating Honobia, but they stayed away for the most part.

Both teams were on the field, getting ready for kickoff. Anson was in its home uniforms with maroon shirts and helmets with yellow pants.

Windsor was dressed all in white with blue numbers.

Cole knew Windsor was a good team, well coached and talented. He also knew from talking to other coaches that Windsor was fortunate to be in this game, benefiting from the easiest bracket to get into the semifinals.

Petros’ coaches were more concerned with Anson, of course, figuring the Rams would win fairly easily to extend their winning streak. Cole thought back to how the Panthers reacted after beating Honobia earlier today, stopping their winning streak. He wondered what it would feel like if they could beat Anson and stop the Rams’ streak, now at forty plus games and counting.

The first thing that struck Cole was the size of Anson’s players. The Rams were large, much bigger than he expected. This wasn’t good considering Anson usually had the best team speed in the class, also.

It didn’t take Cole long to find Wayman Hayes, a junior running back for Anson already declared the best high school player in the state.

The program listed him at six foot and weighing one hundred and eighty five pounds. Reportedly, Wayman could run a 4.3 in the forty and squatted over five hundred pounds. Despite usually only playing half the games because the Rams were so far ahead, he scored over 40 touchdowns this year and rushed for almost three thousand yards.

All the top colleges were already pursuing him even though Wayman was only a junior. Cole saw Wayman’s legs looked like fire hydrants and his arms were bigger than most players’ legs. Even if Wayman was all Anson had, the Rams would have a good football team.

But Cole knew Anson was loaded at other positions, also, as usual for a team with that kind of tradition. The coaches had considered bringing some of the players along, but decided against it to let them get home, celebrate and hopefully get some rest.

Cole was glad he had done that, not wanting the players to get intimidated.

As the game started, Cole saw what all the excitement was about. Anson was that good, easily the best team he had seen in years. The Rams were as big as Honobia and faster than Albion. From what he saw, Cole did not detect any weakness.

Anson’s lines just dominated Windsor and the backs did whatever they wanted. Cole knew Windsor had one of the better defenses in the state but looked helpless against the Rams, falling behind quickly and powerless to do anything about it.

Anson led 21-0 midway through the first quarter. Wayman scored the first three times he touched the ball, looking like a pro playing against a Pop Warner team.

Windsor’s offense also struggled. Running, passing or trick plays were hopeless. By halftime, the score was 49-0 and Anson’s starters were on the bench.

The coaches stayed until midway through the third quarter, deciding it was not doing them any good to watch the Rams’ substitutes completely dominate Windsor’s starters. The score was 63-0 by then and Anson’s coaches were reigning in his players, trying to keep the score from getting any worse.

It was a humbling experience for the Petros coaches. They had not seen anything like this before and were stunned.

Ichabod was shaken even more than the others, knowing his defense would have to figure out some way to try and slow this juggernaut, a tact that looked almost impossible.

“Well, we’re gonna have to step it up a bit next week,” Stub commented, an understatement that would make the others laugh if they were not so overwhelmed.

“How could one team be so talented?” Ichabod wondered aloud, not expecting an answer.

“Those guys could play with any team in the state,” Lloyd remarked.

Cole let the others talk, trying to figure out some way to match up against the Rams. He had never seen a team in Class 2A look this good either, also wondering how Anson got so many good players.

Sure, players were brought up on the Anson tradition and they had an excellent youth program and great coaching, but all the good players in that area must move there so they could play for the Rams.

When you won so many state championships and players knew the chances of winning more were good, Cole figured it was easy to get players to come play for you.

Cole and Ichabod were sitting up front with Lloyd and Stub in the back. Cole was still driving but planned on having somebody step in at the first stop.

“What did you think, Cole?” Ichabod asked.

He heard Stub and Lloyd having some meaningless conversation in the backseat and tried to ignore it, but Stub’s squeaky voice kept popping up.

“I think that was a great team we saw,” Cole replied. “For us to win, we’ll have to play the best game we ever have.”

“You really think we can win?” Lloyd asked, getting dirty looks from Ichabod and Stub.

“If I didn’t, we sure wouldn’t show up next week,” Cole answered. “Yeah, I saw the same things you guys did. Can we beat them? I don’t know. Will we try to beat them? With everything we’ve got. Why am I asking myself questions then answering them? I have no idea.”

Lloyd and the other coaches laughed, surprised Cole had a sense of humor.

“All I know is we’ll come out and play hard,” Cole stated. “I don’t expect our guys to lay down like Windsor did. They were beat before they came out on the field.”

The music on the radio ended, with news filling the space. Another person came on and gave the sports, telling the scores of all the games.

He said in the Class 2A semifinals the “surprising” Petros Panthers had upset Honobia today, 21-20, then added that Anson wound up winning its game, 84-0

“And they didn’t even try to run up the score,” Stub pointed out.

“Anson could’ve scored a hundred if they’d wanted to,” Ichabod added.

Cole wondered what the reaction to the final score was in Petros. He knew the people in Petros were big sports fans and probably knew the final score of Anson’s game even before he did.

“I hope our boys don’t watch the sports tonight,” Stub stated. “Seeing Anson might intimidate them.”

Cole wanted to say something, but knew that it would not sound right so he let it go.

He did not like that the others riding with him did not think the Panthers had a chance against Anson. Sure, the Rams were that good, but things could bounce funny in a football game, there had been too many huge upsets over the years.

Cole knew some people would say it was just a fluke his team was in the state championship and beat Honobia. But he knew Petros had not received help from anybody. The breaks that went his team’s way were the result of the way the Panthers played, not mistakes by the other team.

The celebration in Petros started as soon as people returned from the game and continued into the night with many players, students and alumni gathered together to celebrate the win over Honobia. Along the highway, signs that only hours before urged the Panthers to beat Honobia were already changed, asking Petros to take state and beat Anson.

Most of the Panthers were among the crowd downtown, but fatigue set in and most of them retired early, seeking the call of the bed. An impromptu band was formed from among former band members and current ones to play the school song.

The celebration was still going on while the coaches drove down the interstate. The policemen took part for a while, enjoying the activities while making sure things did not get out of control. Nobody had beer or any alcohol so the police were not overly concerned.

Everybody was so well behaved the police decided to start their rounds, just minutes before it started.

Chapter 54

Chapter 52

2005-10-26T05:08:00.000-07:00

Petros would get the ball to start the second half. The teams met with their coaches one last time then took the field and lined up for the kickoff.

After getting the go-ahead, the kicker approached the ball and slipped, just as Jeremy had earlier. The kick was rather ugly, bouncing along the ground until Derwin fell on the ball at the 26.

Petros’ offense took the field and lined up, again choosing to bypass the huddle.

Cole decided to go with Tatum’s selection and called an option on first down. Lucky ran the play, saw a big gap and placed the ball in D.J.’s belly.

D.J. was not expecting to get the ball, though, and never had control. The football popped free, bounced on the ground once and landed right in front of one of the linebackers. He fell on the ball before any of the Panthers arrived, giving his team the ball and great field position.

The Panthers were stunned. The offensive players slowly made their way to the sidelines while several players came out on the field for defense.

Honobia started pounding away at the Panthers again, hitting them right up the gut. The Lions picked up two first downs and moved inside Petros’ 10.

Happy was sent back in for Tim, trying to strengthen the middle of the defense.

The defense huddled up. Derwin was the last player in the huddle and was not happy.

“That’s enough of this crud!” he hollered, looking around at his teammates. “No more! We stop them right here. I don’t care what it takes. We will not be pushed back one more inch or I will whip every one of you.”

The Panthers’ knew he was not kidding and it inspired them to pick it up a level.

A run over the left tackle was stuffed as the Panthers gave up no ground. The tailback tried to pop outside but Gary knifed in and dropped him for a loss of a yard.

The next play went to the other side. Happy squirted through a small opening, dove under the fullback’s block and hit the tailback right below the knees, taking his legs out for a loss of two yards.

Honobia tried to pass on third down. The Panthers had everybody covered and the quarterback had to throw the ball away as Happy was coming hard and looked like he wanted to remove his opponent’s head.

The Lions’ field-goal team came out on the field to try a 29-yard field goal.

Cole had a feeling something was up as he knew Honobia’s kicker did not have a good leg. He could not recall seeing Honobia try a field goal in any of the films, probably because they don’t have to try field goals. But the kicker’s leg was not that strong and Cole doubted he could make it.

He hollered at Harry and finally got his player’s attention.

“Watch out for the fake!” Cole hollered.

Ichabod kept the defense in the nickel, expecting a fake. Petros would come hard with the line and linebackers while the secondary guarded against a possible trick play.

The snap was perfect from the center. The holder was the starting quarterback. He fielded the snap easily and put the ball down on the black kicking tee. Just as the kicker started to boot the ball, the holder pulled the ball back, stood up and rolled to his right.

Everybody on Petros’ side was hollering “fake”, but it was a waste of energy. The defense was ready for the play and already figured out what was happening.

Harry fought through a block by one of the tackles and started his chase. Honobia only had two players out for the pass and as the quarterback rolled out, he realized nobody was open.

He had no choice but to tuck the ball and run. The quarterback never saw what was coming. Harry caught him from the side, going full speed, and hit him so hard the quarterback was flattened before even realizing he was hit.

Harry rose quickly and stuck out his hand to offer to help the quarterback up. The quarterback was too shaken to get up. Seeing this, Harry turned around just in time to get mobbed by his teammates.

Petros took over on its own 14. D.J. was getting a little winded and Kenneth was not a hundred percent so Seth got the call, looking like a grade-school kid competing against men.

Seth got the call on first down, had to search for a hole and after finding nothing open, took off toward the end.

One of Honobia’s players was in pursuit. Seth stopped, cut back past his pursuer, and burst into the secondary.

Honobia eventually caught him at the 36 and brought him down. The run got Petros out of a hole and gave the Panthers better field position.

Skip picked up six more yards on a dive. The Panthers went with an option again. Lucky faked the handoff to Seth and kept around the corner. He saw the cornerback was more worried about Skip so Lucky turned up the field and took off.

One of the safeties tried an arm tackle but Lucky easily sidestepped him. He broke free and crossed midfield before getting taken down.

Cole called an option the other way. Lucky went with his first option, handing off to Skip, who found a big hole as the Lions were now more concerned with the Panthers getting outside.

Skip nearly broke it. Only a diving effort by the safety kept him from going the distance.

Honobia had given up worrying about the pass and was moving all the players close to the line. Lucky saw this as he approached the line and changed the play.

He made sure all the players heard him then started with the signals. Lucky took the snap, faked a handoff to Seth going to his left, rolled out and found what he hoped to see. Harry was running a crossing route and had a slight lead on the cornerback.

Lucky’s pass was slightly behind him but Harry turned around and caught the ball. He avoided the defensive back and took off down the field. The Petros fans started celebrating in the stands, hoping to see a touchdown.

Harry had just gotten to the 5 when the free safety dove at him. The safety missed the tackle but his hand came down on Harry’s right arm at an angle that knocked the football free.

The ball came down, bounced once and was covered by the safety. Harry never broke stride and crossed into the end zone. All the Petros side started celebrating, never seeing the ball was stripped.

Harry threw on the brakes and quickly turned around, looking for the ball. He saw the ball was recovered by the safety and fell to his knees.

It was a crushing blow to the Panthers as they realized what happened. Nobody felt worse about it than Harry, who always took care of the ball and never fumbled.

He came slowly to the sidelines, on the verge of breaking down. This was a player who was as tough as anybody on the field, even with his small stature. The coaches and his teammates tried to console him, but it did little good.

Harry was convinced he had just lost the game for his team.

Honobia took advantage in the change in momentum and started one of its patented drives, practically shoving the ball down the throats of the Panthers on every play.

The drive ate up yardage and the clock. Ichabod sent Happy in again, but this time it did not help.

The buzzer sounded, ending the third quarter as the Lions neared midfield. The change of directions did nothing to slow the onslaught as the huge line pounded away at the Panthers with the large backs coming right behind them.

Petros’ defense was getting worn out, both from the pounding and the time on the field. Ichabod started rotating players to try and keep them fresh but it did not help.

For a football purist, the drive was a thing of beauty. For Cole and the Panthers, however, the drive was more painful than an abscessed tooth.

Petros still had some fight left but it did not seem to be enough. The Panthers stopped two running plays inside the 5 but the third run produced another touchdown.

The Panthers were on the verge of giving up. Cole felt the same way but knew he couldn’t show that emotion to his players. It was hard not to blame them. Most of the players only went through the motions on the extra point.

Only one player went hard and it was Harry. He cut inside the outside blocker and looked like a blur as he angled toward the holder. He dove at the last second, his right hand catching the ball flush, knocking it to the ground.

Honobia’s kicker retreated back and grabbed the ball but Harry got up quickly and tackled him.

The play received some applause from the Petros side, but most people doubted it would make any difference. Honobia now led 20-0 with less than eight minutes left.

Kenneth and Seth went back to return the kick. It was the best kick of the night for the Honobia kicker, a long high one that came down in Seth’s arms at the 7.

He caught the ball cleanly and took off, trying to find an opening. The Lions converged on him at the 28. Just before he went down, Seth saw Kenneth some five yards away and behind him.

Seth didn’t give it a second though. He tossed the ball back in Kenneth’s direction. It caught Kenneth off guard but he recovered quickly. He grabbed the pitch with both hands while standing still. Kenneth saw most of the kicking team had surrounded Seth and didn’t know the ball was pitched back to him.

Kenneth took off and was soon moving at full speed. The Lions had figured out what happened and were chasing him. Two Honobia players were in front of him, determined to keep him from getting by.

He saw the players and cut sharply to his left to get away from one of the defenders. The other player was the kicker and tried to slow Kenneth long enough for help to arrive.

Kenneth faked to his left then cut back to his right. The kicker lunged in the wrong direction, grabbing nothing but air until falling to the ground.

Honobia had several players bearing down on him. The only question was whether they could catch him.

They had the angle and finally caught him at the Honobia 23. But just as Kenneth was brought to the ground, he looked around and saw Gary trailing the play. Kenneth pitched the ball back just before hitting the ground, leading Gary perfectly.

Gary had also not expected to receive a pitch but caught the ball and never broke stride. He blew past two defenders and sped toward the end zone. The final Honobia player dove at Gary, who dodged the tackle easily.

The Honobia player was rewarded with mud and water getting splashed in his face as he watched Gary sprint into the end zone.

The play brought the Panthers’ side back to life, cheering one of the wildest plays they had seen.

Cole was as stunned as everybody. All the players and coaches were jumping up and down, knowing they had seen something special. This time, there were no flags on the field.

Jeremy’s kick was good and the score was cut to 20-7.

Cole gathered the kicking team around him to relay his instructions.

“Line up like usual,” Cole ordered. “But Jeremy is going to kick the ball like it’s an onside kick straight ahead. You inside guys are going to have to get there quick and take out any Honobia players.”

All the players nodded and went out on the field to line up. Honobia’s players waited to see how Petros lined up. Seeing it was not an onside kick formation, the Lions lined up in their regular formation.

Cole saw Honobia had two linemen in the middle of the field, right where Jeremy’s kick would go.

“Gotcha,” Cole muttered, not loud enough for anybody else to hear.

His players followed his directions perfectly. Jeremy approached the ball like it was a normal kick, only slowing at the last second and barely kicking the top of the ball, causing it to go bouncing end-over-end.

Derwin and Happy were the two players nearest Jeremy. They had the assignment to rush ahead and take out any players trying to field the kick.

They moved like sprinters, getting to the two linemen before the Honobia players could get to the ball. It was two huge collisions that left the Honobia players reeling backwards.

Jeremy was trailing behind the ball closely, waiting for it to go ten yards. Finally, it crossed midfield and he fell on it.

The play further encouraged the Petros side and the fans started getting back into the game. Everybody knew it would be difficult, but the Panthers had pulled off some miracle comebacks in the past and knew it could happen again.

Cole sent the offense out in the spread formation with Seth joining Lucky in the backfield. The Lions were not expecting this and Lucky took advantage, hitting Andy near the far sidelines for a gain of 11.

Andy quickly got out of bounds to stop the clock and the offense lined up without huddling.

The Panthers were going for it on this play, but if it did not work, it should set up the next play.

As the ball was snapped, the Panthers’ wideouts took off sprinting toward the end zone. Lucky retreated back a little farther than normal, knowing he needed a little extra time on this play.

The Honobia rush was coming hard with four linemen and one linebacker trying to get to Lucky before he got rid of the ball. Lucky waited, hoping somebody would get open. Nobody broke free so Lucky let the rush get on top of him, then lobbed a pass to Seth out on the right flank.

Seth was all alone. He caught the pass and had nothing but green grass in front of him for over twenty yards. Seth almost scored but was finally brought down.

Petros came to the line and Lucky called the play. Three Panthers were wide to the right. Andy was the only receiver to the left. Lucky saw Honobia’s best defensive back was now covering Andy, but doubted that made any difference.

Andy still had a good six inches on his defender. As the ball was snapped, the defensive back tried to jam Andy at the line but the Petros receiver broke free, just as the coaches instructed him.

He had no advantage as far as speed and the coverage was excellent. While sprinting down the field, Andy faked like it was a post route and broke toward the corner of the end zone.

It gave him a step. Andy knew the pass was in the air before turning around. He looked into the sky and saw the ball gliding through the air. Lucky had let go of the pass long before Andy made his cut. It was the same route they had run so many times before, one that worked more times than it didn’t.

The defensive back knew the ball was coming and closed quickly. He struck his arm up, hoping to somehow deflect the ball. Unlike Andy, the defensive back did not find the ball.

Lucky knew the pass was a little high, just hoped it wasn’t too high. It was also obvious Andy was having trouble with the defensive back all over him.

At the last second, Andy fought loose and jumped, his long arms stretched to their maximum length. He didn’t think there was a chance to even touch the ball but while continuing to elevate, Andy’s hands got high enough to reach the ball.

His legs were coming out from under him and the defensive back was wrestling with him, trying to knock the ball loose. But Andy’s hands were like a vice and he was determined not to let go, much like a snapping turtle once it got hold of something.

Andy landed hard on his back with the defensive back falling on top of him. It hurt badly, but Andy would not let go. He wrestled away from the Honobia player and held the ball up, making sure the officials knew the ball was in his hands and was never dropped.

Even before the officials gave the signal for the touchdown, the Petros side started celebrating, the belief growing that this game was far from over.

The Panthers stopped celebrating long enough to get the kicking team lined up. The snap and hold were good, along with the kick.

There were now just over five minutes left. Petros had cut the lead to 20-14 and nobody dared to sit.

Cole knew there was plenty of time left. But he had to decide whether to go with another onside kick or kick it deep and hope his defense stopped the Lions once more.

If the onside kick failed, Honobia would get the ball around midfield and the game might as well be over. He knew it would almost be impossible to recover another onside kick. But at the same time, Cole was worried about his battered defense.

He gathered the coaches and Lloyd around to get their advice. Nobody could decide whether this was a wise choice.

“Heck, let’s ask the boys,” Lloyd suggested. “They’re the ones trying to stop them anyway.”

Cole decided it was the best idea he had heard. He called the defense together around him.

“Okay, guys, you know the situation,” Cole stated. “We’ll probably need to kick deep since they’ll expect another onside kick. That means for us to win the game, we’ll have to stop them one more time. I know you guys are tired and beat up, but I gotta know if we can stop them and get the ball back for our offense.”

Cole looked around at each of his players. He saw the determination back in their eyes. They were just waiting for somebody to speak up.

“Can we stop them?” Cole asked again.

Derwin stepped forward, putting on his muddy white helmet.

“Count on it,” he promised.

The other defenders started nodding their heads in agreement.

“Good,” Cole countered. “I know you guys can do it. I don’t care what Coach Stub says.”

“Huh?” Stub asked, hearing his name and wondering why the defensive team was giving him the evil eye.

Petros’ kickoff team sprinted out on the field and the roar began again. As they waited for the officials, the players started waving their arms and jumping up and down. The fans continued to grow louder, honoring their players.

Stub slid up next to Lucky on the sidelines.

“Isn’t this great?” he asked.

Lucky chuckled.

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” he said, never taking his eyes off the kicking team.

Stub nodded, remembering the old song of the same title. As he walked away, Stub started whistling the song.

Jeremy was told to proceed by the official. He looked down the field and saw the Lions expected another onside kick.

Only one player was back deep. Jeremy approached the ball slowly and threw his foot into the ball, kicking it away from all the players lined up in front of him.

The kick was long and high, coming down just inside the 10. The Panthers on the right side of the field flew down the field, not having to worry about any blockers as most of the Lions were lined up on the other side of the field.

The kick returner was alone, like he was on an island with half a dozen players bearing down on him. He could have and probably should have gone out of bounds. But he chose to return the kick and made it out to the 23 before the Panthers caught him and simply crushed him.

It was a vicious hit, almost hard enough to dislodge the ball. The Honobia player was a little slow getting up, his legs not willing to cooperate.

Both teams knew this drive would go a long way toward determining which team won the game. If the Lions got a couple of first downs, the clock would run out and the Panthers would never get another chance to score.

Everybody knew what was coming. Nobody knew if the Panthers had enough to stop it, however. Honobia was going to come after the Panthers, right up the middle and hard, just like they had all game.

The call was a blast up the middle. The running back came hard, running behind his huge line. Petros’ defense refused to budge this time. Happy fought off the block of the fullback and filled the hole. The tailback bounced outside, finding a little room.

He cut back inside and picked up six yards, more than Petros could afford to give up.

As the defense huddled, Derwin was not happy.

“We can’t give up that much!” he hollered, stepping to the middle of the huddle. “You’ve gotta get strong and tough!”

The defensive players refused to look into Derwin’s eyes, afraid they would be melted to the ground like the wicked witch on “The Wizard of Oz”.

Honobia came back with the same play to the opposite side. Petros’ line stayed strong, only giving a little room from the push of the line.

Derwin came forward to fill the hole, meeting the 230-pound fullback. It was a collision that had been repeated all night. They had pounded away at each other with everything they had. Both knew they would feel this the next day but could care less.

Neither player gave up any ground. The players on both sides heard the collision and wondered how either player could get up after the hit. The tailback hurdled over the two prone players, picking up an additional three yards before Happy and Gary grabbed him and pulled him back.

The officials marked the ball and called in the chains for a measurement.

Derwin slowly rose to his feet, shaking his head to clear it. He had never hit anybody so hard or been hit so hard.

He slowly made his way back to the huddle, watching the Honobia fullback struggle to his feet, then collapse back to the ground. He looked like a drunk struggling to rise and failing badly.

Derwin smiled as the Honobia players looked at him with a mixture of awe and admiration. They knew their fullback was something special. Anybody who did what Derwin had done to him was a stud.

“You okay?” Skip asked.

“A lot better than he is,” Derwin answered.

The Honobia coaches came out on the field and helped the fullback to the sidelines as the officials checked to see if it was a first down.

The ball was just short of the marker, not more than three links of the chain.

It was third-and-short, the biggest play of the game and the season for both teams.

The Lions took their time, using as much of the clock as possible before breaking the huddle.

Cole sent in two more linemen, knowing what was coming. He knew if Honobia tried to pass, it would be an easy score but doubted that would happen.

The second-team fullback was no slouch but at 180 pounds, weighed fifty pounds less than his teammate.

As the Lions came to the line, Lucky edged closer, almost as close as the linebackers. Honobia was in the I-formation again. The quarterback barked the signals and finally took the snap, spun around and handed the ball to the tailback, coming right at Happy.

Petros’ line fired off low and hard, covering up every offensive lineman. Happy saw the play coming his way and reacted the only way he knew how.

He fired ahead and dove over the line, flying into the fullback and knocking him down. The collision carried back into the tailback and almost knocked him down. The tailback regained his balance and sidestepped the pile in front of him and cut back to the left.

Derwin sliced through a small gap after seeing the tailback change directions. He closed hard on the tailback, forcing him to go further outside.

He reached out, trying to get hold of anything but could not grab the tailback. The tailback was sprinting to the outside and appeared to have plenty of room to run. He expected to pick up the first down and a lot more.

But just as he got close to the line, there was a blur coming from the defense. It was Lucky. He had been on the other side, fought off a block, ran around a pile and finally saw his chance. His eyes never left the tailback.

Lucky knew where the tailback was going and was determined not to let him get there. He came scorching through the opening, taking an angle to intercept the running back. The tailback never saw Lucky until getting hit hard enough in the legs to send him flying through the air and land face first in the mud.

The ball was marked, two yards short of the line of scrimmage.

Petros’ defenders congratulated Lucky, pounding on him like he was a rag doll. They knew that play kept their hopes alive.

The tailback was slow to rise, tired from the long game and shaken from the hit. He looked around to see what hit him, but the Panthers were already lining up for the punt.

Cole was not sure Honobia would punt, even though the Lions were in their own territory and now needed three yards to get a first down.

The Lions used as much time as possible, letting the clock tick away. Honobia had huddled and broke it slowly, coming out in a punt formation. The punter watched the play clock, letting it go all the way down to two seconds before calling for the snap.

The snap was perfect and the punter got the kick off. It was a low line drive that sailed over Kenneth’s head and rolled all the way back to Petros’ 19.

Kenneth retreated back and picked up the ball and started making his way down the field. Despite the big kick, Honobia had good coverage on the punt and brought him down on the 31.

There were now less than three minutes to go. The Panthers were 69 yards away from a trip to the state championship.

The excitement was building. Students at East Central had heard the roars all afternoon from the football field and came to see what was happening. They were rewarded with a game that was now more thrilling than anything ECU had offered this past season.

For everybody but the players on the field, it was nerve wracking. And getting worse every second. There was a feeling on the Petros side that something good was going to happen.

Honobia had seldom been pressured in its 43-game winning streak, but was now. Their players, coaches and fans had forgotten what it was like to lose and didn’t want to find out.

Cole took his son aside to give some advice before the drive started.

“You’ve gotta keep your cool,” he stated. “I know you’re just a sophomore, but you’re the leader out there. This is it. This is what you’ve been waiting for your whole life.”

Lucky nodded and smiled at his father. Out on the field, the rest of the offense was huddled, waiting for their quarterback to join them. He sprinted out on the field and entered the huddle, as calm as he would be reading a book.

“Okay, this is our time,” he told them. “We’re going to take this all the way. You guys give me some time and let’s go get a touchdown.”

The Panthers came out in a spread with Lucky in the shotgun. He looked over the defense, took the snap and rolled to his right. He saw Andy break open on an out route and threw a bullet that was caught just before he stepped out-of-bounds to stop the clock. The play was good for seven yards. Andy might have been able to pick up more but didn’t want to risk getting tackled as the clock would keep going unless he picked up a first down.

Petros was at its own 38. The Panthers huddled and Lucky called two plays, just in case the defense lined up in a different way so he could change the play.

He hurried his team to the line, reading the defense and looking for any signs of a blitz. Lucky did not see anything out of the ordinary and called for the ball. The snap was low but he caught it and while raising up, saw a blitz coming from his right.

Lucky rolled away from the blitz and saw Skip break open across the middle. Lucky lobbed a pass to him, hitting him going full speed across the middle. Skip grabbed the pass and made it to the 46 before getting tackled.

It was good for a first down and Petros lined up, waiting for the officials to mark the ball. Lucky called an audible, going for a play he expected to catch the Lions off guard.

Lucky took the snap and sprinted to his right with Seth trailing behind. Cole nearly swallowed his tongue when he saw his team running an option. But he also knew it was not a play Honobia expected to see in this situation.

The defensive end was left trying to decide which player to go after, knowing he had little help. He chose to go after Lucky, hoping one of his teammates could get the pitch back.

Lucky waited until the last second and pitched the ball back to Seth. The pitch was a little behind him and Seth had to slow down just a little. When he looked ahead, Seth saw there was plenty of room to run and sped into the secondary before the Lions recovered and brought him down at Honobia’s 40.

The clock was stopped but would restart after the chains were in place. Lucky had his team on the line again and called another play. Honobia was now changing its defense, hoping to bottle up the Panthers.

This time, Lucky didn’t see the blitz coming and paid the price. The Lions overloaded one side and came hard. The linebacker on Lucky’s backside broke free and came roaring into the backfield. It was the kind of opportunity defensive players love, a quarterback dead ahead with no warning he is about to get demolished and no blocker anywhere nearby.

Lucky never saw or felt the hit coming. He was starting to throw the ball to Harry when it felt like somebody ran over him with a semi-truck.

It was the most pain he ever felt. His back and ribs felt like they were knocked out of whack and let the body’s owner know it.

The ball had floated free as he was hit but the officials called it an incomplete pass.

Lucky tried to get up but had a hard time. He looked up and saw the defense celebrating the hit. His teammates gathered around their fallen quarterback, all feeling bad about allowing him to get hit like that.

Lucky grabbed hold of Seth, trying to pull himself up but quickly figured out that would not work. There was something wrong and his body was not responding like it should.

Cole and Doc Hardy started out on the field. Cole could tell from the force of the hit that it was probably not good, hoping it was only a bruise and that his son had gotten the wind knocked out of him.

As they arrived, Lucky was still trying to get up. He didn’t care what was wrong, there was no way the rest of the game would go on without him.

“Just calm down,” Cole directed, realizing his son trying to get up reminded him of a pony trying to rise for the first time. “There’s no reason to hurry.”

“I gotta get up,” Lucky stated, gritting his teeth. “They’re not going to put me out of this game.”

Doc Hardy kneeled down beside Lucky and began examining him. Everywhere he touched on the back and ribs, Lucky winced.

“It doesn’t feel like anything is broken,” the doctor advised.

“I’m fine,” Lucky protested, knowing that wasn’t the truth. But he would be if his legs supported him enough to let him stand.

“Can you get up?” Cole asked.

“Yes sir,” Lucky answered.

Cole reached down and helped his son stand, not liking the way Lucky reacted. Cole had hurt his ribs before, even broke two, and knew hurt ribs and a bruised back were not easy to handle.

As they slowly walked to the sidelines, Lucky had one arm around his father, the other held tightly against his side. Lucky glanced at the clock, seeing there was less than two minutes left, his team still forty yards away from the winning score.

Gary would have to go in at quarterback, at least for one play. He was throwing some passes on the sideline after seeing Lucky go down. In between the throws, he looked out at Lucky, hoping his teammate would make some kind of miraculous recovery and get back on the field.

Cole took as much time as possible before the officials came over to speed him up. Lucky was trying to stretch and move, but was having trouble. Doc Hardy raised his shirt and was looking for damage.

Cole walked over to Gary and put his arm around him.

“You ready to go?” asked Cole.

“I hope,” Gary responded, then threw a duck to Harry.

“Don’t hope,” his coach replied. “You gotta know you can do it. We’re all behind you.”

Gary put on his helmet and fastened the straps. As a child he always wanted to rescue his team in a big game and now seemed to have the chance.

After the way he struggled earlier in the year, Gary was determined to show what he was made of. He was smart enough to realize Lucky was a better quarterback and able to do things he couldn’t. But Gary also knew he had some ability, even if nobody else knew.

As he jogged out on the field, the roar from the crowd was something Gary would never forget. Gary acted like he had not heard it and that it didn’t mean anything, but it did. His teammates were waiting for him in the huddle, patting him on the back.

“You can do it,” said Skip as other heads in the huddle nodded in agreement.

Gary was so choked up and excited he could barely call the play. He finally managed to get the play out. While walking to the line, Harry jogged by him and patted him on the shoulder.

“This is your time,” he mentioned. “Let’s go score and carry you off the field on our shoulders.”

Gary smiled and nodded, knowing there was a lot of work to do before they reached that point and Honobia would probably not agree with that plan.

Petros lined up in a spread formation with Gary under center. He had never gotten comfortable with the shotgun and preferred taking the snap before dropping back.

He surveyed the defense and called out the signals. As the ball was snapped, he dropped back. Everything seemed to be going in fast forward. He looked for Harry, but could not find him. None of the other receivers were open, either.

Gary rolled to his right, looking for somebody to get open. Nobody broke free. He saw an opening and tucked the ball away and took off.

It caught the Lions off guard and they had trouble responding. Gary got to the sidelines and ran to the Honobia 27 before stepping out of bounds to stop the clock.

His teammates rushed over to greet him and congratulate him. Gary looked to the sidelines to see if Lucky was coming in to replace him but could not see his teammate.

Gary jogged back to the huddle, a strange feeling coming over him, one that told him he could get his team in the end zone. He didn’t know how and it didn’t matter what Honobia threw at him. He would lead his team into the end zone.

He got the call and relayed it to his teammates. Gary had a different attitude and walk as he came to the line. Gone was the unsure look so many had seen in him, replaced by one that bordered on cockiness.

“What’s up with him?” Stub asked Ichabod.

“What’re you talking about?” Ichabod asked.

“Look at Gary,” he directed, pointing out on the field. “He’s acting different.”

Ichabod disregarded his fellow coach and turned his attention back to the field.

The linebacker to his right was edging closer to the line, trying to distract Gary.

“You got lucky that time,” the linebacker mouthed. “We’ll get you this time and hurt you worse than the other quarterback.”

Gary stood up and glared at the linebacker.

“You can’t hit what you can’t touch,” Gary replied.

He lost interest in the linebacker and started calling signals, trying to decide what the defense would do. He expected a blitz from the backside. He saw the linebacker on that side edging forward and Gary turned around to make sure Seth saw it.

Gary wished Happy or Derwin was in at running back just to help with the blocking, knowing neither were a threat with the ball like Seth.

He took the snap and rolled to his right and lobbed a pass toward the sideline, hitting Skip on an out route. It was an ugly pass, but an effective one. It led Skip perfectly. He caught the pass and cut upfield, reaching the 18 before getting knocked out of bounds.

The Panthers huddled again and Gary gave his instructions. Cole thought this play would catch the Lions off guard and was the main reason Seth was in at running back.

Petros hurried to the line. All the receivers were scattered wide, leaving Gary and Seth alone in the backfield. Gary got the snap and dropped back, watching all the receivers run go routes. Honobia was coming with another blitz, this time from the right.

It looked like a passing play until Gary slipped the ball to Seth while dropping back past him. It was a draw play and caught the Lions unprepared.

Seth stepped through the onrushing line and burst free. The other inside linebacker dove at him but Seth easily avoided the tackle and sprinted toward the end zone, both arms protecting the ball. He made it to the 5 before one of the safeties brought him down.

Cole had the offense call time and come to the sidelines. He looked at the clock, seeing there was still over a minute left. The Panthers still had two timeouts. Cole had doubts his offense could line up in a regular offense and run straight at the Lions with any success so he decided to stay in the spread, mainly to keep the defense stretched out all over the field. Cole relayed the call, stressing the importance of good blocking.

“It’s right there for us, guys,” Cole directed. “Go get it.”

The Panthers jogged back out on the field, forming a huddle as Honobia’s defense had not returned to the field.

Gary waited until the defense was back on the field and lined up before breaking the huddle. Honobia was not expecting this formation and the defense had to adjust quickly.

The Panthers lined up and got the play off quickly. Gary turned and handed back to Skip, who had traded places with Seth. Skip squirted through a small hole, picking up two yards. He nearly scored and would have except one of the Lions grabbed him by the shirt and would not let go.

Petros called its second timeout. This time Gary came to the sidelines by himself. He saw Lucky on the bench, obviously in a lot of pain. Gary knew Lucky was out now and would not come back. It was Gary’s team to lead to victory or defeat.

The Panthers only had one timeout left. He sent Happy in to take Seth’s place, hoping the Honobia coaches did not notice the change.

Cole wanted to surprise the Lions again and knew the best way to do that was to hit them in a way they did not expect. The Panthers were going to load up in the wishbone and hammer right at the defense. Gary smiled as his coach called the play and formation. If it surprised him, Honobia would certainly not expect it.

Petros broke the huddle and came to the line quickly, hoping to get the play off before the Lions adjusted. The Panthers had three running backs in the backfield with Gary and two tight ends lined up outside the tackles.

It did surprise Honobia. Gary got the ball snapped while the Lions were adjusting. Skip got the call, running behind D.J. and Happy.

There was only a small gap, even after his two fellow running backs blasted away. Skip lowered his helmet and plowed ahead. His momentum carried him down to the 1-yard line before the Lions shoved him back.

Cole called his final timeout. The Panthers faced third-and-goal from the 1 with 50 seconds remaining.

If the Panthers ran the ball again and did not score, they would have to hurry to get the pile cleaned up and run the play.

Cole didn’t really like to pass this deep in an opponent’s territory and felt confident the Panthers could get off another play, even if this one didn’t work so he decided to go with another running play.

Gary received the call and jogged back out on the field to relay the call to his teammates. Petros came to the line as fans on both sides stood, making a huge roar. The rain had lightened and was now only a light mist. Fog was starting to descend on the field, making it difficult to see from one side of the field to the other.

This old field had been the host of many great games over the year, high school and college. But the tension existing at this moment was as great as ever.

Gary came strolling to the line, refusing to let the nerves get to him. If he came through, it would be great and unexpected. But if his team came up short, very few people expected it anyway, especially after Lucky had to leave the game.

He barked the signals loudly, looking over the defense. He took the snap, faked a handoff to Happy, then spun around and handed the ball to D.J. He plowed forward into a wall of humanity, two lines facing each other and refusing to give up any ground.

This time, Honobia won, not giving up an inch. The Lions pushed back hard, forcing D.J. to angle away since there was no hole. All D.J. found was more Honobia defenders and he was tackled before getting back to the line.

The seconds were ticking away quickly. Petros’ players were trying to untangle from the piles of bodies, finding it difficult when the opponent would not move and actually held on to arms or legs to keep them down.

The official were trying to get the bodies free so another play could be run. Three Honobia players were on top of D.J., refusing to move.

The time was under fifteen seconds and a feeling of desperation was forming on the Petros side. As the clock continued to count down, the referee finally realized this was not right. He was tired of the stalling and blew his whistle and waved his arms to stop the clock.

Cole was going ballistic on the sideline before the officials finally made the correct decision.

Honobia’s sidelines was not thrilled with the call and protested, knowing it would do little good.

The bodies were finally freed and the Panthers lined up quickly, knowing the clock would start as soon as the ball was placed on the ground.

Gary called a play at the line, not having time to get one from the bench.

As soon as the umpire placed the ball on the ground and stepped back, the referee blew his whistle and waved his arm. The clock started right as the ball was snapped. It was fourth down, just over a yard to go and both teams’ season rested on this play. One team would advance to the state finals the following week, the other would hand in the equipment.

Gary got the snap cleanly and faked the dive to D.J. and went down the line, reading the defensive end. Seeing the end was going after Skip, Gary ran past the tackle, then cut back inside. He felt the arms reaching for him, while he saw a little gap toward the end zone, the white line calling for him.

One of the linebackers hit him from the side, pushing Gary farther to the side. He refused to be brought down, his legs still churning away. Gary lowered his head and put both arms around the ball, determined not to let the pigskin escape his grasp.

Another defender blasted into him from the opposite direction, forcing him to spin away. It was happening so quick, Gary did not think, letting everything happen naturally. Honobia’s safety was coming fast and flung himself toward the Petros quarterback.

Because Gary had spun, the safety only delivered a glancing blow. Somebody was trying to grab his leg but Gary wrestled free and dove for the line waiting before him.

He fully expected some defender to come out of nowhere and grab him, throwing his body back from where it came. As Gary waited for the hit, he finally realized it was not coming. The line was below him and then gone, and the reality hit.

He did not even have to look to the officials for confirmation. Gary knew he scored. His body finally came to earth well past the final mark. All he could do was lie on his back, the ball held to the heavens, a scream of joy filling the air.

While Gary did not need to look toward the officials to find out if he scored, everybody else did. When the line judge and umpire both raised their arms, it set off pandemonium on the Petros side, everybody jumping up and down, hugging anybody within reach.

Cole jumped up one time then caught himself. He knew the score was tied at 20 and this game was not won yet. The Panthers still had to convert the extra point and Cole knew Honobia would do everything possible to thwart Jeremy’s kick.

The players were all running around like chickens with their heads cut off. Cole and the other coaches tried to calm their players and get some order established. Cole knew how the players felt and would like to be running around also.

And he planned to do just that, but only after and if Jeremy’s kick was good.

The players who needed to be on the field gradually made it to the huddle while the other players came to the sidelines, getting mobbed by their teammates.

As Petros lined up for the kick, Honobia called time at the last second, trying to put extra pressure on Jeremy. Cole knew the Lions could call two more timeouts if they chose, but it would not bother his kicker.

Jeremy was back from the huddle, practicing his footsteps. He continued to loosen up, not even acknowledging the Honobia side, where the chant of “Block that kick!” was coming.

None of the other players bothered Jeremy, knowing he was totally focused. The timeout was over and the Honobia players came back on the field. Cole had left his guys out on the field, not needing to tell them anything else. They all knew what the situation was without his help.

It was really simple. Have a good snap and hold, don’t let any of the Lions through the line, then kick the ball between the uprights.

The Panthers jogged up to the line. Two of the Lions stood over Petros’ center, Danny Wall, letting him know that as soon as the ball was snapped, they planned to hit him with everything they could.

Danny was not worried. He was used to getting hit like that on every extra point. Repeated blows like this might shorten his height a bit, but was not going to make him mess up this snap.

Harry called the signals and ordered the snap. The snap was perfect. Harry caught the ball and set it down on the tee, turning it at the same time so the laces faced the other way.

Jeremy slowly approached the ball, looking at the spot where his foot would meet the ball. His drew back his foot and let it go, a smooth movement like he had done so many times before. This time he kept his footing.

The Lions were trying to get through the line and into the backfield to block the kick but none of the Panthers broke down.

Jeremy’s kick was hit perfectly. He knew that as soon as his foot blasted into the ball. Since there was not a second thud to indicate the ball made contact with another person, Jeremy raised his arms into the air, looked for and found the ball as it sailed straight and true.

Harry jumped up, grabbing Jeremy. The other Panthers on the field waited to see how the officials reacted since they had not picked up the flight of the ball. Their teammates on the sidelines did not have to wait since they saw the ball sail through the uprights.

Cole looked up at the clock and saw a bunch of zeros in the time section. He turned looking to find anybody to hug and celebrate with and saw everybody had already ran out on the field. The only person he saw was Lucky sitting on the bench, smiling despite the pain.

Lucky looked up to see his father, smiling like his dad had not in years.

“We did it,” Cole yelled. “We’re going to Stillwater!”

Lucky could only nod, wishing he felt good enough to join the celebration. Cole walked over and hugged his youngest son.

“We wouldn’t be here without you,” Cole told him.

“No, we wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you,” Lucky countered, relishing the moment even though his ribs and back felt like they were about to rip apart.

Cole hugged his son one last time, making sure he did not get anywhere near the ribs, then turned and started walking toward the middle of the field.

Lucky sat back down, burying his head in his hands and prayed, thanking God for this moment and for all He had done.

A hand was on his back. He turned to see who it was and saw Gabby, tears running down her cheeks.

“We beat them!,” she shouted, then added, “I can’t believe we won.”

Lucky stood slowly and put his arms around her.

“This is what we’ve been working for,” he said.

She pulled back from him.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“I’ll be fine,” Lucky answered, braving a smile despite the pain.

They started walking toward the center of the field, joining what looked like everybody who lived in Petros. The feeling was hard to describe. At least for those few moments, all was right with the world. Even people who had not talked for years, wound up hugging each other.

Cole looked for the Honobia coaches, but they had left as soon as the game was over, actually sprinting for the dressing room. It wasn’t a very classy move, one Cole would never repeat. While he did not appreciate it, that certainly would not remove any of his joy.

There had been times like this before, but none were sweeter. On the other times, he expected it. Cole had no idea this team could get to this level. It just made it better, especially to see the joy for everybody from Petros.

The smiles, laughter and yells made Cole want to dance and shout. He looked into the sky and closed his eyes, blocking out the noise for a brief time.

“I owe you another one,” he stated. “Thanks for this.”

His players started coming by, hugging him and he congratulated them back. Many of his former players also filed by, also congratulating Cole and his players.

He saw old players who had been gone for years, enjoying seeing them almost as much as winning the game. Tatum came by to congratulate his old coach and Cole saw the tears in his eyes. He might be residing in Big Cedar now, but a part of him was still a Petros Panther.

Cole stood away from the celebration, just enjoying the moment. Other coaches he knew came by and congratulated him, some thanking him for showing Honobia what it felt like to lose.

He saw her walking slowly toward him, a black jacket that was too large seeming to swallow her body. She had a black baseball hat with a white “P” on the front pulled down a little too far, making it hard to see her eyes.

But the smile was plainly evident. Cole gave her a little wave and she returned the gesture. He started walking toward her and she quickened her pace.

“I can’t believe this,” she declared. “I’ve never been this excited.”

“It feels great, doesn’t it?” Cole asked, putting his arms around her and pulling her close.

“Aren’t you worried what people will say?”

He pulled back and looked her in the eyes, a smile still stretched across her face.

“I really don’t care,” he answered, then kissed her, shocking her. Cole was not the type to share kisses and everybody was staring at him.

“Whoa,” she responded, smiling and leaning toward him. “That’s a public display of affection there, Coach.”

“Yeah, it is, Doctor.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder, wishing this could last forever. Lucky and Gabby were standing off to the side of the celebration, arms linked together.

“How’s Lucky?” she asked.

“Sore and getting sorer,” Cole replied.

“Does Doctor Hardy think anything’s broke?”

“No, but I’d appreciate it if you could give a second opinion.”

“It’ll cost you,” she mentioned.

“How much?”

“A night out.”

“That’s a pretty costly examination,” Cole countered. “But I guess it’s worth it.”

Chapter 53

Chapter 51

2005-10-25T18:29:00.000-07:00

The excitement continued to build as the countdown to the semifinals progressed. There were special events every day and night, trying to build the excitement even higher.

Petros was in a frenzied state that had not been seen in years. It was all everybody talked about. The whole town was decorated with banners and signs urging the Panthers to victory.

All the cars and trucks were decorated with white shoe polish, also wishing the Panthers good luck. Everybody bought the latest tee-shirts urging the “Panthers to bite the Lions!”

There was a pep rally Thursday night at the stadium. The home bleachers filled an hour early. The team was out on the field, sitting on metal chairs. Cole and several players made speeches in between the band playing several songs.

The game wasn’t scheduled until Saturday so the extra day gave the players more time to get prepared, letting those tired legs rest even longer. Since Cole had gone with a light week of practice to allow the players more time to recover, the players were feeling better than they had in a long time.

As the week wrapped up, the practices really improved, despite some bad weather. Cole had hoped for dry weather, so naturally it was cold and damp all week.

D.J. started getting his timing back and would be a great benefit for the Panthers.

After the long week of waiting, Saturday finally arrived. The Panthers hopped in a bus early Saturday morning and made the long trip to Ada, stopping once at McAlester to take a break.

They arrived at Ada and went straight to the stadium. It was a nice field, one Cole played on many years before. It was nicer than most fields they played on, naturally, since it was a college field.

The players filed off the buses and went to the locker rooms to drop off their equipment. They put their equipment down then walked out on the field to test it out. As soon as they stepped out on the turf, a light rain started to fall, making it even cooler.

This would be the first time in years Petros played an afternoon game instead of at night. It felt different but Cole knew after the first hit, it would be just the same.

At the far end, a group of Honobia players started walking out on the field. The Lions were already dressed in their uniforms with red shirts, white numbers, helmets and pants. They walked to the middle of the field and stared at the Panthers.

The Petros players thought this was rather silly and stared back, not about to be intimidated.

One of the Honobia players walked even closer.

“What are you staring at?” he asked.

“Lunch,” Derwin answered, drawing laughter from his teammates.

“You’re going down,” the Honobia player added, nodding his head.

“We’ll take you with us then.”

Cole headed off the confrontation before it got serious, sending his players in to get dressed.

“You better be glad your coach saved you,” the Honobia player added.

“I’m not saving him,” Cole turned around and said. “I’m saving you.”

One of the Honobia assistants gathered up his players and scolded them for their behavior. It was not done very harshly so Cole though it was done for his sake.

While the Panthers retreated to the locker room to get dressed, Cole stood at the other end of the field, leaning against the pad on the goal post. He watched the Honobia players come on the field and do drills.

It was an impressive group. The Lions were big, strong and athletic. Cole had not seen many Class 2A teams that looked like this and felt sorry for the Class A teams Honobia had dominated in the previous years. He remembered the last game the Lions had lost was in the finals three years ago to the team Tatum coached to the championship.

Petros’ players started coming back out on the field. The Panthers were dressed in their usual road uniforms of white jerseys and helmets, black pants and numbers. Cole remembered that the last time Petros had advanced this far in the playoffs was Lloyd’s senior year.

Scoop walked up to Cole, the limp noticeable. He was fired up, of course, his enthusiasm evident with the black Petros jacket he wore, along with the white hat with the black “P” on the front and the black wind pants.

“Isn’t this exciting?” Scoop asked. “This is what we’ve been working for all year!”

Cole wondered about the “we” reference, not remembering Scoop going through all the practices when it was sizzling hot or freezing cold. But he knew Scoop thought he was a member of the team and that was okay with Cole.

He just nodded and patted Scoop on the back.

“Ooh, they’re big,” Scoop proclaimed, looking down the field at the opponents.

“Yeah, they are,” Cole agreed. “But I figure if David can take down Goliath, we can put down Honobia. Old David had a lot bigger fight on his hands, but he did have the Good Lord on his side and when you have that, anything’s possible.”

“Ooh, I like that!” Scoop exclaimed. “Can I use it?”

“If you feel like it’s appropriate,” Cole replied, hoping God was with his team today.

He looked up into the stands and saw a huge crowd quickly filling the seats. Petros had brought its usual large crowd, of course, with chartered buses, RVs, church buses and pretty much everything that could bring a person.

Honobia had a large crowd also. Cole decided if he was ever going to commit a crime in either Honobia or Petros, today would be a good day to do so as it seemed like both towns had been evacuated.

Cole just wished the weather was like it was the previous week. But it was just one more challenge for his guys.

“Can we win?” Scoop asked, a little doubt evident. Not that Cole would hold it against him, the team at the other end of the field was impressive.

“We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t think we could win,” Cole answered.

Scoop wished Cole good luck and walked toward the sidelines, each step making a small splash on the saturated grass.

Lucky felt good, nothing like he had earlier in the week. The easy practices and extra day was good for him. As he and his teammates went through stretching exercises, it was hard to contain his excitement. All his life he hoped to be in a situation like this. Even last night, he was so excited it was hard to sleep.

His brother had been here before and almost always came through, as had Tatum Sloan.

As the Panthers started running some plays, the footballs were a little damp but Lucky had no trouble throwing spirals. That would be important for the game plan his father devised.

Lucky could tell by how his teammates acted they knew Honobia was good. But the Panthers were not ready to hang up the equipment for the year. They were having too much fun.

He also noticed how big the Lions were. But Lucky decided the bigger they were, hopefully the harder they fell, just as long as they didn’t fall on him.

All the players were dressed out except for Garrett, who was still in the hospital. Earlier in the week, Cole doubted he would have a full crew after all the injuries the week before, but nobody else had to miss the game. Having D.J. back was a huge lift for his team.

As the warm-ups were completed, the players retreated back to the locker room one last time before the game started. Lucky saw Gabby at the corner of the field. She smiled and waved at him.

She had on a large jacket, black of course, along with a black hat. Lucky waved at her while jogging past.

Most of the players had already gotten a drink and sat down when Lucky arrived. He also had something to drink and sat down in a metal chair. He looked around the room and was amazed at these guys. Lucky had never expected to be in a game like this after the way the season started.

There was no laughter or joking now. It could easily be confused as a group preparing for a funeral, aside from the pads, naturally, and no crying.

Lucky felt so proud to be associated with these guys. This was a group that was certainly not the biggest or fastest, but they figured out a way to win ten straight after dropping the first three.

He wanted to win this game so badly, not wanting this feeling to end. There were a lot of guys in this room who would not be back next year and Lucky wanted to send them out as winners.

Cole finally walked to the front of the room, the only noise in the room his footsteps and the creaking noises made by the pads as the players shifted positions.

He was calm, at least in the beginning.

“All year I’ve asked you guys not to be afraid to succeed,” he stated. “We’ve lived up to that all year and I ask that from you again tonight.

“I’m not gonna to lie or mislead you by trying to tell you this game will be a pushover because I can assure you that it won’t. This is likely going to be the most physical game we’ve ever been in.”

Cole picked up his clipboard and started walking around, getting more intense with every step.

“But that doesn’t bother me,” he continued. “We’re warriors. I know that however hard we get hit, we’ll hit back harder and block them like they’ve never been blocked before.

“We’re not here to just be here and get beat. I expect to win this game.”

Cole walked across the room and put his hand on Derwin’s shoulder.

“I don’t want you to win this game for me, for Petros or for our school,” Cole added. “Win this one for your teammates and yourself.”

The players literally tore down the door, so anxious to get out on the field.

Cole and the coaches waited for the players to leave the room and then followed behind.

Tatum Sloan stood outside, waiting to wish Cole and the other coaches good luck. He had already shaken hands with many of the players as they filed outside. Cole saw him and gave Tatum a hug. They walked alongside each other, watching the players sprint down the spirit line.

“This reminds me of old times,” Tatum replied.

“Yeah, it does,” Cole agreed. “I just hope it ends like it used to when you played.”

“If I was a betting person, my money would be on you.”

“Thank you.”

“This is great,” Tatum commented.

“Yeah, it is,” Cole responded. “Why don’t you hang around our sideline and let me know if you see anything.”

“I’d be happy to do that.”

Cole had not seen the Petros fans so excited before a game since the last time the Panthers played in the state championship. He just hoped they would still be this excited after the game ended.

Derwin and Kenneth were captains for the Panthers. They took the field for the coin toss, meeting the Honobia captains. The players shook hands with each other and the officials. They listened to the officials’ instructions and waited for the coin flip. Since Petros was the visitors, Derwin got to call the coin.

He called “heads” and was rewarded when the coin landed with the head up. He told the officials the Panthers would defer until the second half.

Honobia elected to take the ball and the Panthers chose to take the light breeze.

Cole gathered his team around for final instructions.

His black hat was already soaked and water was dripping down from his bill.

“It’s time to go kick some rear,” Cole stated, smiling at his players. “They’re gonna try to intimidate us but don’t let that happen. Don’t wait for them to hit you. Be the aggressor and go pop them in the mouth.”

The kicking team jogged out on the field and lined up for the kickoff. Everybody in the stands stood and cheered loudly. It might be wet and cold, but nobody was bothered by the weather.

Jeremy waited for the officials to give him the go-ahead, then jogged forward and kicked the ball. His plant foot slipped on the wet grass, resulting in a short kick.

All eyes watched the flight of the ball, missing the contact between the first row of Honobia blockers and the Petros players. The Panthers had heard all week about how tough and hard-hitting Honobia’s players were and wanted to show the Lions they weren’t the only ones who knew how to hit.

The contact was intense. The popping of the pads could be heard throughout the stadium. Ichabod had instructed his kicking team to do this, wanting to send a message to the Lions. The receiving team was usually able to deliver the blows while the coverage team was more worried about finding the returner.

But that wasn’t the case this time. Petros’ players were more concerned with finding somebody to hit and try to inflict as much punishment as possible. All the Panthers went after the blockers, knocking several of the Lions to the ground. It was like a boxer throwing the first punch before an opponent was ready.

It caught the Lions off guard. The ball was fielded at the 18 and the runner started up the middle. He made it to the 29 before Harry slipped past a blocker, dove and knocked the Honobia player’s legs out from under him.

Honobia lined up in its usual I-formation and tried to shove the ball right down the Panthers’ throats, like the Lions had against all their other opponents.

The Lions were confident, of course, since nobody had stopped them all year and there was such a huge difference in size between the two teams. Honobia had handled teams with much bigger lines than Petros and expected to dominate again.

Just like a message had been sent on the kickoff, another subtle one was sent on the first play. Honobia’s line blew off the ball, ready to blow the Panthers away.

The only problem was the Panthers would not allow it. They stood up to the blockers and maintained their position. The tailback got a handoff right up the middle, but a hole never developed and he was swarmed over for a small loss.

On second down, the play was the same song, second verse. Ichabod called a blitz, this time using Tim Treadway to crash. He rocketed into the backfield and hit the tailback right after he took the handoff. It was another loss for a team not used to going backwards.

Honobia tried a pass on third down. The Panthers’ coverage was so good, no receiver could break open. Seeing this and feeling the pressure, the quarterback took off.

He eluded one defender but as he reached the original line of scrimmage, Derwin came at him going full speed, lowered his helmet and looked like a missile as he slammed into the quarterback, hitting him so hard the Honobia player seemed to melt into the ground.

Derwin’s helmet hit right next to the ball, forcing it free. He could not recover quickly enough, though, and one of Honobia’s linemen fell on the loose ball.

His teammates swarmed over Derwin. The celebration was mild until they realized the quarterback was not hurt. He had a rough time getting up from the hit, however. The Panthers had forced a three-and-out and Honobia was going to punt. As the punt-return team huddled up, Cole hurried down the sidelines to Ichabod.

“Go after it,” he directed.

Ichabod relayed the instructions. The Panthers lined up ten players on the line to go after the punt. As the ball was snapped, the Panthers came hard, leaving only Skip back to return the punt.

It is impossible to block every punt, of course. But a team does not always have to actually get a piece of the ball for it to be a good play. Petros did not block the punt. But the pressure forced the punter to hurry, resulting in a kick that went off the side of his foot and only traveled twenty-two yards before rolling across the sidelines.

The poor kick gave Petros the ball just short of midfield.

Cole quickly sent in a play, wondering how surprised everybody would be when they realized what was happening. The Panthers came out in the shotgun. They had one running back in the backfield with Lucky, lining up Happy to block if needed. There were four other players spread out wide.

Lucky barked the signals quickly, hoping to get the play started while Honobia was still getting its defense adjusted to the formation.

He took the snap and faked the handoff to Happy. Other than special teams, Cole had seen one area where Honobia seemed to have a weakness and he was going after it.

Lucky started looking over his receivers, not bothering to look at his intended target until it was time. Finally, he looked back to his left where Skip was sprinting down the field. The cornerback was trying to stay close to him, but found it difficult. Lucky waited one last second before throwing the ball.

With the ball in the air, Skip actually sped up, extending his lead over the cornerback. The pass was off just a little, causing Skip to angle back toward the center of the field.

It was the only thing that kept him from scoring. It slowed Skip down just enough that after he hauled in the pass, the cornerback caught up and brought him down just inside the 20.

With the crowd going crazy, the Panthers went directly to the line, not bothering to huddle. Skip and Andy changed sides, leaving Andy as the only receiver on that side.

Lucky took the snap and dropped back three steps. The cornerback covering Andy knew what was coming and tried to keep the receiver at the line by grabbing and pushing.

Andy used his size and strength to break free and took off down the field, angling toward the corner of the end zone. Lucky waited until the time was right and lobbed the ball.

The pass floated through the air, a tight spiral that seemed to go in slow motion. It arced high in the air, kept its height for a brief period then began its ascent just past the goal-line. Andy had a seven-inch height advantage and all the defensive back could hope to do was try to knock the ball away or make it so Andy could not catch it.

Honobia’s cornerback tried to knock the ball away, a poor decision. Andy’s hands were at least a foot higher than the defensive back’s. He grabbed the ball and covered it up while bringing it down, not letting the cornerback knock it loose.

The Panthers started celebrating, but an official’s whistle ended it quickly. They turned around to see what was happening and saw a yellow flag littering the ground next to where the referee stood, waving his arms.

Judging from where the flag was dropped, Cole knew this was not good. It was either holding or one of the Lions roughed the quarterback. The referee informed the other officials of his call, then walked away from the crowd and looked up at the press box.

He signaled holding and pointed at Petros’ end of the field.

The Panthers retreated back and waited for the ball to be marked. D.J. came in to take Happy’s place during the break. As soon as the officials gave their okay, Lucky started barking signals. The snap was a little low but he fielded it cleanly. He dropped back once again, but this time handed off to D.J. on a draw.

It was a good call and fooled everybody except one of the linebackers. He nailed D.J. just when it looked like there was going to be plenty of running room. The hit was hard enough it looked like D.J. was clotheslined.

The linebacker jumped to his feet and stood over D.J., pounding his chest like a gorilla, not letting D.J. rise to his feet.

It was an act that didn’t set well with the Panthers. Left tackle Todd Benton, normally mild-mannered, was so angry he ran over and shoved the Honobia linebacker away from D.J.

The referee was standing nearby and saw everything. As soon as there was a shove, he reached down, grabbed his flag and threw it high in the air.

Cole was not happy. He seldom protested anything, but was not the least bit happy with this call. He came roaring out on the field, trying to get one of the officials to discuss the call. The referee signaled a personal foul against the Panthers and ruled it a dead ball. This put the Panthers back fifteen more yards and resulted in a loss of down.

Cole continued to try and talk with one of the officials but the whole crew ignored him. They did not ignore everything from the sidelines, however.

“What a bunch of idiots,” Lloyd said, shaking his head.

The word “idiots” had barely left his mouth before the line judge grabbed his flag and tossed it. Cole was amazed the officials would not pay any attention when he was hollering at them, but Lloyd said one word and it caught their attention.

It was another fifteen-yard penalty, the first time Cole ever had a team penalized for somebody on the sidelines saying something.

Cole’s blood pressure was flying high as he stood on the field and glared at the official. He was steamed at them still, but also at Lloyd for what he said.

Lloyd regretted the comment and knew it was a mistake. It might be the truth, but that was no excuse. He knew his father would reinforce that message. All Cole did was give Lloyd a dirty look when the officials would not look at him.

Lucky got his team to huddle and tried to get control of the players. They were all upset, just like the coaches. He finally got everybody quiet enough to call the play.

The Lions had a pretty good idea what was coming and came hard. Lucky was sacked even before he had a chance to get rid of the pass and was forced to throw the ball away on the next play.

For the Panthers, a drive that appeared to end in a touchdown would instead be a goose egg as Petros was forced to punt.

Jeremy’s punt was downed at the Honobia 15, again leaving the Lions with poor field position.

Petros took out its frustration on the Lions. Honobia struggled again, only gaining two yards in three plays.

Cole was pleased with the play of his defense, knowing this was the first time all year anybody had stood up to the Lions and fought back.

The Panthers went after the punt again, narrowly missing it. The punt rolled to a stop at the Petros 43, again giving the Panthers good field position.

As the offense took the field, Cole pulled Lucky aside.

“They’re gonna know we’re passing and will come after you,” Cole instructed. “You need to get rid of the ball quick.”

Lucky nodded, already knowing the Panthers needed to start running short routes and screens to negate the pass rush.

The Lions were ready for the pass now. Realizing this, Lucky changed the play at the line and handed off to D.J. on another draw. Honobia came hard again, only to see D.J. go past in the opposite direction. He hit the hole so quick the Lions could not react.

D.J. sprinted past the linebackers and reached the secondary before Honobia brought him down. This play surprised Cole, who had not expected the Panthers to have much success running the ball.

He decided to go with his usual formation and put Skip and D.J. in the backfield. It was the first time the two had shared the backfield since D.J.’s injury.

A dive to Skip had the same results, picking up eight yards. Lucky kept the offense at the line and snapped the ball quickly again before Honobia adjusted. He faked the dive to D.J., then followed in behind his teammate.

There was a good hole again, thanks to the fake and good blocking. He veered outside and found some running room. His run was good for another ten yards before the Lions shoved him out of bounds. Petros had found something that worked and the Panthers continued to milk it, quickly driving down the field until reaching the Honobia 10.

No team had scored in the first half on Honobia all season. The Panthers wanted to end that streak, of course, but then the defense stiffened. The Panthers tried two running plays that gained nothing and a pass on third down was batted down at the line, forcing a field goal.

The Panthers lined up for the field goal. The snap was good, as was the placement. But as Jeremy planted his left foot, he slipped again and was falling backwards as his other foot met the ball.

The ball never got high enough to clear the line. The ball hit one of the Lions in the facemask and went straight down.

Cole expected some disappointment from his players and hoped this would not slow the momentum. He knew his team would not get many chances to score and the Panthers had already missed two.

The Lions’ offense tried pounding away at the Panthers again. Petros stuffed the first two plays. On third down, Honobia went with another pass. The Panthers came hard after the quarterback, pinned him in the backfield and tossed him to the ground.

The defense celebrated another apparent three-and-out, but there was a flag on the play. Tim Treadway was called for grabbing the quarterback’s facemask, even though he was one of the few players who did not get close to the quarterback.

None of the Panthers had a clue who the penalty could be on but it didn’t matter as the Lions had their initial first down. The momentum had swung to Honobia as the first quarter ended.

Cole had read somewhere that Honobia had scored in every quarter of every game. He knew that was one streak that had just ended, hoping it was one of many.

Even with some of the momentum gone, the Panthers’ defense refused to soften, the resolve just as strong. Three running plays only netted five yards and it was time to punt again.

Lloyd pulled Harry aside as he started out on the field for the punt.

“Stop messing around and go block that punt,” he ordered.

“I haven’t been messing around, sir,” Harry argued.

“Have you blocked a punt yet?”

“Well, no.”

“Then you’ve been messing around,” countered Lloyd, a little uncomfortable that somebody actually called him “sir”. It was a first and it hit him hard. Next thing you know, people will be calling him “mister”, he worried, shaking his head. Lloyd didn’t feel like a sir or a mister.

Harry looked back at Lloyd as he sprinted out on the field.

“Okay,” he added.

The two teams lined up for the punt. Petros again had ten players stacked up at the line. Harry was on the right end, just back off the line. He acted like it was his duty to watch for a fake but kept edging closer to the line, always looking back toward the middle of the field for the first movement of the ball. By the time the ball was snapped, he was at the line and going all out.

Nobody laid a finger on him. He was past the upback and into the backfield as the ball reached the punter. It was now a race to see if the punter could get the kick off before Harry got close enough to block the punt.

This time, the punter lost. Harry arrived just as the punter dropped the ball. He dove and hit the punter in the midsection, keeping the punter from ever kicking the ball. The loose football bounced backwards. Harry climbed off the punter and scrambled to the ball, arriving just before several other players dove for it.

Harry fell on the ball, knocking the wind out of him before all the other players arrived and landed on top of him. He never let go, holding on for dear life.

As the crowd was pulled apart, the officials saw it was Petros’ ball and pointed toward Honobia’s end zone, again giving the Panthers’ crowd a reason to celebrate. Harry was still having trouble breathing as his teammates pulled him up.

He made it two steps before having to go back down on a knee.

The coaches started to come on the field but Harry waved them off, knowing his breath would return quickly.

Petros had the ball on Honobia’s 23. It was another golden opportunity for the Panthers to score and take the lead.

Lucky knew what the play would be even before his father called it. They would go for the throat with a play-action pass. It was the perfect call as far as Lucky was concerned. The Lions would be frustrated after the blocked kick and be aggressive, hopefully leaving them open to give up a big play.

Lucky relayed the call and the Panthers came to the line in the usual split-back set. Lucky got the snap and faked the dive to D.J., took two more steps down the line to make the defense think the option was coming, then quickly dropped back into the backfield.

Harry started slowly off the line, also selling the play as an option as it looked like he was searching for somebody to block. But Harry slid past the cornerback, still jogging until getting behind the safety.

He then turned on the speed, easily getting behind the defense.

Lucky could not remember seeing one of his receivers that open. He planted his foot and started to toss the ball down the field. The play had touchdown written all over it. But just as Lucky’s arm started forward, one of the Lions broke through and hit him square in the back, causing the ball to shoot straight up. Players on both teams started spinning around, trying to find the ball. But the only player who saw it was Honobia’s middle linebacker.

He timed the ball’s descent perfectly, catching the ball while going full speed. He got off to a big lead as none of the Panthers realized he had the ball until it was too late.

Lucky could only lie on the ground, watching the number 55 get smaller as the linebacker ran away.

Skip was the only Petros player with a chance to catch him but was at a disadvantage from being so far behind and finally gave up and watched the celebration begin.

The Panthers were stunned by the play and slowly jogged down the field. Lucky was the last player to get up as the hit took the breath out of him.

Danny Wall and Price House were having a heated conversation as they jogged down the field over who missed the block, each player blaming the other.

“It doesn’t matter now,” Lucky told them. “It was my fault. I should have gotten rid of the ball sooner. We were in a zone block on that play. Whoever was in front of you is who you block.”

Stub hollered at the two linemen to come to the sidelines where he could straighten everything out. He was disappointed about the missed block, of course, but after the assignments were straightened out, he chewed the players out for arguing with each other, especially on the field.

“It won’t happen again,” said Danny.

“That’s right,” Price echoed.

“Good,” Stub stated. “Now kiss and make up.”

The two players looked at each other, wondering if they heard their coach correctly.

“Do what?” asked Danny.

“You’re kidding,” exclaimed Price. “Right?”

“I think he’s serious,” said D.J., standing nearby. “Just don’t use any tongue.”

Danny wanted to inform D.J. on what the sophomore could do with his suggestion but had to get out on the field for the kickoff return.

Cole was disappointed with the outcome of the play. He did not regret the call one bit, however, knowing that if Lucky had gotten just a little more time, Petros would be leading instead of Honobia.

He watched the kickoff sail through the gray skies, his face getting pelted by the raindrops while looking up. Kenneth caught the ball at the 10 and slowly made his way up the field, made a sharp cut at the 20 and reached the 37 before getting brought down.

The offense took the field. This time, Petros’ line started losing the battle up front against the bigger Lions. The holes were shrinking quickly and the Panthers’ backs had trouble finding places to run. After two short runs, Cole tried something different on third down.

Lucky took the snap and tossed the ball back to Skip, who sprinted toward the sideline then handed back to Harry, coming back the opposite direction on a reverse. The play fooled the Lions and worked good enough to give Petros a first down.

Cole felt the players tiring, wondering what would be happening if the Panthers had scored earlier. The players would be a little less tired and the momentum would still be on their side.

After the previous play ended, Lucky saw Honobia’s end was shaken up and had to go to the bench. The end’s replacement was a tall thin player looking like he did not weigh 160 pounds, nothing like the stud he replaced.

Lucky decided to test the new end quickly. He audibled and switched to a power play over the left side to D.J. He received the snap and turned to put the ball in D.J.’s belly. Just as soon as the ball was there, Lucky pulled it back out.

He stood still for a second, looking back and watched D.J. pound into the line. If any of the Lions realized Lucky had the ball, they could have taken his head off. But nobody figured it out and Lucky slowly turned to see if the replacement end had made the mistake of following D.J.

The end had taken the bait, leaving Lucky with plenty of room. He rolled in the direction and found nothing but the dormant wet grass ahead of him. Lucky was all by himself, sprinting down the field, some twenty yards down the field when he heard the first whistle blow, followed quickly by another.

Lucky knew there had to be some kind of mistake and continued down the field. The Petros side saw Lucky running by himself toward the end zone and started celebrating, only a few noticing something was not right.

They saw the officials back at the line running to the pile at the middle of the field. All the officials were looking in that direction aside from the one official trying to keep pace with Lucky, but having a difficult time thanks to advanced age and the extra forty pounds of weight around the midsection.

Cole realized quickly what happened. The fake had been so good it fooled all the Honobia players, but also tricked the officials into believing D.J. had the ball and was tackled.

The Petros side started protesting immediately, making the officials wonder what happened. Cole and the coaches were pointing down the field as Lucky crossed into the end zone. The officials were confused, looking into the pile for the football.

“How come you blew the whistle?” asked D.J. “I never had the ball.”

Two officials looked at each other, a look of concern growing on their face. One of the officials looked down the field and saw Lucky holding the ball aloft in the end zone. He got the referee’s attention and pointed toward Lucky.

“Uh, oh,” said the younger official.

“That’s not good,” another official added.

The referee waved his arms to stop the clock and gathered all the officials around him, including the one who followed Lucky and now had to run all the way back up the field. He was wheezing badly after finally arriving at the huddle.

The officials consulted for a moment then reached an agreement. The huddle broke up and the referee came to the sideline, looking much like a child coming to a parent after getting in trouble.

“Coach, we messed up on the play,” the official stated, surprising Cole with his honesty. “The fake was so good we thought the running back had the ball and blew the whistle when he went down. We apologize for that but we have to mark the ball back where we blew the whistle.”

Cole knew that, but certainly didn’t like it. But he also knew there wasn’t any reason to argue. Those were the rules and the officials had just made a bad mistake.

The referee turned and jogged back out on the field. The Petros fans realized what happened and showed their displeasure with the call, booing and hollering insults at the officials.

Cole quickly turned to the bleachers and waved his arms, trying to get the fans to quit. Most of them obeyed, although a few continued getting on the officials.

Petros’ players were also complaining in the huddle about the bad break. Lucky was a little out of breath and did not want to hear this.

“We’re gonna have to drop it,” Lucky ordered. “Those things happen. It’s not gonna help us to stand around griping and complaining. We need to forget about it and play some football.”

Lucky’s speech brought a little sense of control. Petros was then forced to punt. Jeremy let go with a boomer considering the field conditions, sending the returner all the way back to his 20. The punt was returned back to the 30 before the coverage overwhelmed him.

Honobia’s offense had gotten ripped apart on the sidelines by the coaches, especially the line. The Lions had heard all they cared to hear and came to life. The offense started looking like they had in all the other games, rolling over the defense like a tornado smashing through a mobile home park.

Ichabod tried everything but could not slow down the drive. The only thing that looked like it could keep Honobia out of the end zone was the clock.

Most of the plays were blasts right up the gut. Honobia reached the Petros 5 and had a first and goal. The clock showed just under two minutes remaining.

Cole knew they had to do something or Honobia would score easily. The Panthers were getting pushed around and had to get more physical. The answer hit Cole and he called for time just as the Lions came to the line.

He hollered for Happy, who came sprinting toward his coach. Happy already had his helmet on and was buttoning his chinstrap.

“Tim, we’re gonna give you a break for the rest of the series,” Cole instructed. “We’ve gotta get a little stronger up the middle.”

Tim nodded and stepped out of the huddle. Tim knew he was giving everything, but was having trouble against those huge blockers pounding away at him. Plus, he needed a break. He was more of a speed player and more effective against quicker teams.

The Panthers took the field with Derwin, Happy and Murray Perdue at linebacker. Honobia went back to the same play, trying to pound into the end zone.

There was a difference this time, though. Happy read the play quickly and moved ahead to take on the blocker and refused to give ground, standing up the guard and blocking the hole. The back picked up one yard, but it was all because of his effort and was lucky to get that.

Second down netted two more yards, getting Honobia down to the 2. It was third down and two yards to go for a touchdown that would practically break the Panthers’ backs.

The big fullback blasted ahead on third down, finding a small gap. Gary saw the play developing and moved quickly into the hole, met the fullback and delivered a hit that sent the fullback reeling backwards.

For a player not known for big hits, Gary had just came through with one of the biggest of the season.

Honobia called time. It was fourth down and the ball was resting less than a yard from the end zone.

Many coaches would choose the safe play here, kicking a field goal to go ahead by two scores. Cole knew Honobia’s coach was too proud for that and would go for the touchdown.

Ichabod told the defense to come out in a goal-line defense and made sure the best linemen were on the field.

“We’ve got to penetrate into the backfield,” Ichabod stressed, shoving his glasses back up the huge nose. “The tailback’s going to come right at you.”

Ichabod would probably run the quarterback sneak if he was calling the plays for Honobia, but knew the tailback was the coach’s son and he would give him the ball to pad his boy’s stats.

The two teams took the field for the last play of the first half. Petros’ linemen crouched down as low as possible, trying to get below the opposing linemen. Petros was going with six linemen, three linebackers and two defensive backs, Lucky and Skip.

The defensive backs were basically extra linebackers as they lined up close to the tight ends, not worrying about a pass.

Honobia did come with the expected run, a blast ahead by the tailback over the right side. Petros’ linemen fired off low and hard at the snap, getting below the blockers.

Happy and Derwin read the play quickly and raced forward, trying to get to the hole first. Derwin got there first, leaping over the tangled linemen like a missile that had just been fired. The collision occurred in the backfield, even before the running back got back to the line. Lucky and Skip were right behind, making sure the running back could not escape.

The Panthers started celebrating even before the whistle blew, but it was short lived. The lineman came running in, waving his arms and prevented the players from leaving the field. All eyes went to that side of the field and saw a flag on the ground.

All the officials huddled up and discussed the play. The referee stood in the middle of the huddle with his arms crossed, nodding while listening to the other officials.

He was satisfied with the explanation and left the huddle. He walked away from everybody and put both hands on his hips then pointed toward the Petros side. It was offsides on Petros and gave Honobia another chance.

The officials ruled one of the Panthers had crossed the line before the ball was snapped or lined up offsides. Naturally, Petros’ side was not pleased with this call, since it was another in a long string of calls that hurt the Panthers.

Honobia quickly lined up while the Panthers were disorganized. As soon as the umpire backed away, the center snapped the ball. Petros’ players were not lined up and scrambled to get set before the play started.

This time, the quarterback kept the ball on a sneak and dove forward, easily scoring without any of the Panthers touching him.

The extra point was good, giving the Lions a 14-0 lead as the teams retreated to the dressing rooms.

Cole was not the type to verbally abuse an official or lose his temper. But as he left the field, Cole made sure to cross paths with the referee.

“You planning on nailing us all night?” he asked. “You’ve stuck it to us all night.”

The referee was aware several calls had gone against Petros. He did not know if the Panthers had been offsides on the one play. Whether it was the right call, he had no idea. The officials had erred on Lucky’s run and admitted it.

“Your guy was across the line,” the linesman said.

“Which one was it?” Cole demanded, his anger rising.

“I don’t know. It was one of your linemen.”

“Give me a number.”

The official looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

“I couldn’t tell the number,” he admitted.

“I didn’t see anybody jump,” Cole stated, jogging along with the officials.

“Uh, he lined up offsides.”

“How much?”

The referee was getting upset now. They had gone almost half the field with this coach nagging them.

“It doesn’t matter, Coach,” the referee advised. “You know the rules. If you line up offsides, we have to drop a flag.”

The officials veered off to their dressing room, leaving Cole alone out on the field.

Cole shook his head and continued jogging toward his team’s locker room. His players were a little despondent as he entered. They were complaining about the officials, the field, just about everything they could think of.

“It’s hard to beat those guys and the dang refs!” shouted Scoop, who had slipped into the locker room to get a drink and joined in the bellyaching.

Cole got a drink and let the players continue for a few moments. Finally, he had enough.

“All I hear is you guys talking about how the refs did this or did that,” Cole mentioned. “That stuff doesn’t matter. You should be talking about what it’ll take for us to come back and win this game, not about stuff we don’t have any control over.”

If Cole had walked around the room and slapped each player on the face, it would not have held their attention any better.

“I didn’t care much for those calls either,” he continued. “But right now that doesn’t mean a hill of beans. We gotta let it go. We can’t change what happened. We need to spend our time and energy on how to win this game, not griping like a bunch of women.

“You’re acting like we’re behind by fifty points and don’t have a shot. We’re only down two touchdowns and we’ve come back several times this year. You guys know it and so does Honobia’s players. We were the better team the first half, I don’t care what the scoreboard says. We’re two quarters away from playing in the state championship game.”

Cole let that sink in, looking around the room at all the players. There was not a sound in the room, other than Scoop flushing the toilet.

Scoop emerged from the bathroom and saw all eyes were on him.

“Sorry,” he said. “Had to go.”

“That’s what we’re playing for,” Cole added, trying to ignore Scoop. “We outscore Honobia by fifteen points this half and we go to Stillwater next week.”

He certainly had the players’ focus back on the game by reminding them what they were playing for. Despite the score, Cole had no doubt they would come through. He knew his team was playing a great team, but it was just a feeling Cole got while looking around the room at his guys, many of them wet and covered with mud.

The other coaches took over and made a few adjustments before giving the players a couple of minutes before they had to go back out on the field.

The griping had gone by the wayside. Now, the players sat, only worrying about winning this half and the game. When it was finally time to take the field, the Panthers came tearing out of the locker room, ready to get back in the game.

Tatum was waiting for Cole as he left the locker room and started walking with him.

“How are they?” Tatum asked.

“Okay, now,” Cole answered. “They were a little upset with the officiating until we talked it over.”

“That’s what I figured. Honobia’s tough but I feel like we’re going to win.”

“So do I,” Cole agreed, looking up at the dark clouds and feeling the rain hit him in the face. It was now raining harder with no signs of slacking up. “I just wish we were playing on a dry field.”

“Well, good luck,” Tatum added, started to walk away then stopped. “I don’t think they can handle your option.”

Cole nodded, at this point willing to try anything.

Chapter 52

Chapter 50

2005-10-24T05:00:00.000-07:00

Cole didn’t get to watch film of Honobia until Saturday afternoon. He had a meeting in the morning with officials from the state and the Honobia coach to discuss where the semi-final game would be played.

Honobia wanted to play in Tulsa, which would be good since it was a short trip for the Lions while Petros would travel over two hours. Naturally, Cole wanted different arrangements.

Tahlequah would be a good location for the game at Northeastern Oklahoma’s stadium, but Honobia’s coach did not want to play there.

The Honobia coach was determined to play in Tulsa. Cole flat out refused to play there and suggested East Central at Ada. It would not be convenient for either team, but would be close to the same distance.

They finally decided to play at East Central, a move that angered the Honobia coach, a man who seemed to be used to getting his way.

Cole wasn’t all that pleased with the location either, but was not going to play in Tulsa. There was the difference in driving times, but the main reason was to keep the Honobia coach and his team from believing there would be a home-field advantage.

He never remembered competing against the Honobia coach. All Cole knew was Honobia’s coach was like so many others he ran across. The man was cocky, arrogant, bullheaded and stuck on himself.

Cole knew many of the young coaches acted that way. It bothered him that so many players got coaches like that who cared only for their advancement, not what was best for the players.

It was obvious to Cole that Honobia’s coach was a good one. A team couldn’t have that much success without having a good leader, but he also decided the chances of sending and receiving Christmas cards were not good.

After the meeting concluded, Cole received some good news on the drive back to Petros. Skip was sore, but fine. Kenneth was going to be okay, as was Happy.

Kenneth’s hip was bruised and really sore, but should not keep him out of the semi-final game. Happy had a bad headache, but did not appear to have a concussion.

That was good news, of course. But the best news he heard came early this morning when D.J. told him the doctor was releasing him.

If he could get ready on time, D.J. had a chance to play in the semifinals Saturday. He had been running and lifting weights, so he was in decent condition. But it would be the timing that would be hard to recover in a week.

Cole was really tired when he finally got home, but put in the first tape of Honobia and hit the play button.

Lloyd and Lucky soon joined him.

“What do you know about them?” Lloyd asked.

“I’ve heard they’re a good team that has knocked out every quarterback they’ve faced this year,” Cole responded, then looked at Lucky. His youngest son looked like a large ball had gotten stuck in his throat.

“Really?” he asked.

“Naw, I was just kidding,” his father answered, picking up a piece of paper and scanning it. “Honobia is undefeated, ranked second in the state. They just moved up to Class 2A this year after winning the last two state championships in Class A. They’re on a forty-three game winning steak.”

“Dadgum,” Lucky muttered.

“That’s tough,” Lloyd stated, looking at the film. “They look awful big.”

“They are,” Cole agreed. “Honobia is probably bigger than anybody we’ve played. They’re a physical team and will knock your block off. Those boys have a lotta nasty in them.”

They settled in to watch the film. Cole was impressed from the start with Honobia’s lines, a group that just dominated the opponents. He did not know the level of competition Honobia was facing, just that the other team was badly outmatched.

The defense looked even better. It didn’t take Cole long to realize Lance was accurate in his description of Honobia.

“How’s their team speed?” Lloyd asked.

“Decent,” Cole stated. “Nothing like Albion, of course. You don’t see teams that fast very often, thank goodness.”

Honobia was dominating its opponents on the film, running up and down the field and delivering a pounding like Cole had seldom seen.

“They do grow them big,” Lloyd pointed out.

Lucky had gone on the internet and printed off Honobia’s schedule and the scores of the Lions’ games.

“Nobody has come closer than three touchdowns against them,” he said. “They’ve got the top defense in our class in most categories. Their offense is fifth in the state and average over forty points a game.”

Cole had seen enough of this film. He stopped the tape and put in another one. There was no doubt his team was going into a hornet’s nest this weekend. Honobia was the most dominating team Cole had seen in their class in several years, almost as good as some of the Anson teams Petros had played.

But while he was worried about Honobia’s defense, Cole felt his defense could handle the Lions. Petros would give up a lot of size, but his team was a little quicker and really didn’t have to worry about giving up the big plays.

He also felt good about the special teams. In the films, Honobia seemed to struggle in those areas. This was the only advantage he saw and Cole hoped special teams made a big difference.

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As the week went by, Cole watched film practically all the time he wasn’t teaching, coaching or sleeping, not that he got much sleep that week. He watched film of all the Honobia games and talked to many of the coaches.

“They just beat you to a pulp,” said one coach in Honobia’s district, adding he never played against a team so big and physical.

Cole knew the Panthers had a slight advantage in speed, especially if D.J. played. But he also knew speed would not be that big of a difference if Petros could not block Honobia’s line, something no other team had done all year.

The newspapers were already predicting Honobia would meet Anson the following week in the title game, one that should be the best in years. As usual, Petros got little respect. The words “Cinderella” and “surprising” kept popping up in all the stories to describe the Panthers.

This bothered his team more than it did him. Cole wanted to be the underdog and hoped Honobia was already looking ahead, just like Albion was during the first half of the previous game.

He had no idea how many hours were spent watching film this week. Cole had actually watched this film before when it hit him. It was so obvious and had been there during all the games this week, but he did not grasp it until now.

Cole jerked up in his chair and watched some more film before calling his other coaches. He also gave Tatum Sloan a ring, to get his advice. It was different, Cole knew, but it might work.

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Lucky was still getting used to this dating deal and spending so much time with a person of the other sex. He had never been much to socialize, preferring to spend time at home shooting hoops or playing ball with anybody who joined him.

One thing about Gabby was she was always fun to be around. She was always upbeat, talking, smiling, laughing and having a good time.

Lucky spent as much time as possible with her, still getting that funny feeling whenever they were together. When they were apart, other than the upcoming game, she was about all Lucky thought about.

He loved to see her down the hall or across a room and see her smile at him. It was a form of medicine that made him feel better than any prescription drug could top.

They did homework together, shot baskets together and just hung out. He had watched more movies in the last couple of weeks than in his whole life. Andy would spend a little time with them if they were watching a movie and Gabby invited him.

He was the complete opposite of his sister. Andy was quiet, shy and more willing to blend in. He was almost too nice, except while playing sports. Despite getting a late start, Andy was turning into a pretty good player in only his first year of playing.

Gabby loved to rag him, but was finding it harder to find things to get on her brother about.

This was the big night. Gabby had been bragging over the last few weeks about being a good cook and promised to deliver a meal her family and Lucky would always remember.

She had read cookbooks and watched cooking shows on television.

“You better be prepared for the best meal you’ve ever ate,” she advised Lucky.

Andy had his doubts, though.

“How can you say you’re gonna cook us a meal?” he asked. “You can’t even use the dang microwave.”

“At least I can spell microwave,” she countered.

Gabby rushed home from school and spent all afternoon and evening preparing the great feast, refusing her mother’s offer to help.

Yes, she was sure no help was needed, Gabby responded, wondering why her mother seemed so worried. She was convinced this would be a snap. The cookbooks told her everything she needed to know and made it look easy.

The meal was scheduled for six p.m. Lucky arrived just before the hour and was told the meal would be a little late. The family sat down at the dinner table, other than Gabby, and waited. Then, they waited some more before finally retreating into the family room to watch television.

A little after seven, Gabby popped her heat out of the kitchen and promised the food was almost ready. She smiled, but Lucky could tell it was forced. Gabby looked like the pressure was getting to her and she could snap at any moment.

Lucky knew something was a little amiss in the old kitchen.

Gabby’s mother, Brenda, looked particularly concerned, especially with all the pots and pans clanging together. Two more thirty-minute sitcoms came and went. The stomachs protested the lack of nourishment, as did Andy.

“I knew this would happen,” he mentioned.

Finally, Gabby peeked her head into the family room and smiled. Her hair was all messed up and what appeared to be a large amount of flour covered a good part of her face.

“It’s ready,” she declared.

“Is it edible?” her brother asked.

Gabby ignored the comment, too worried about getting everything set out on the table. The salad bowls were first, each decorated with dressing that looked like a smiley face.

Andy laughed again and received a stern look from his mother.

“Anybody know the number for the Pizza Hut?” he asked.

His comment was ignored again.

Lucky was not a real big fan of having dressing on his salad. He waited for the prayer, then attacked his salad with a vengeance, his hunger so strong.

Just as he finished the last bite of the salad, Gabby brought in a loaf of French bread and placed it in the middle of the table. Lucky was the first to notice but didn’t point it out. For some reason, half the bread was burned while the other half looked like it had not been cooked.

“What the heck?” their father, Stan asked. “Ouch,” he added, after receiving a kick in the shin by his wife.

His wife gave him a look telling him to clamp that mouth or the couch would be his sleeping destination for the next few days.

Gabby came strolling back in carrying a pot of green beans in one hand, mashed potatoes topped with cheese in the other hand.

It actually looked edible and Lucky breathed a sigh of relief, still wondering how she did that trick with the bread.

“Here it is!” she proclaimed, walking into the room carrying a big bowl. She had on an apron with food splashed all over it. Her hair was completely astray, but it couldn’t take away the pride on her face.

Gabby sat the bowl down in the middle of the table. All eyes were fixed on the bowl. It looked like she had taken a bunch of leftovers and mixed them together.

She had forgotten something and went scurrying back into the kitchen.

Brenda was a very proper, respectable person. Some might say a little uptight and be fairly accurate. This was a little more than she could stand. Things like this just did not come from her kitchen.

“What is this?” she asked, then covered her mouth after realizing the thought was said out loud. Everybody else laughed, especially Andy. He almost fell to the floor from laughing so hard before finally regaining control.

“It looks like throw up,” Andy offered.

Stan was aware of his wife’s reaction from the last time he opened his mouth, so no words came from his lips. But he failed to conceal the worried look. He was a guy who liked to eat and was used to having something good for dinner, certainly not this stuff.

The silence weighed heavily in the room, everybody trying to figure out what Gabby was trying to feed them. They all had a look on their faces somewhere between curiosity and disgust.

Stan couldn’t take it any more and acted like he was gagging. Andy and Lucky almost lost it over that. Even Brenda smiled, but covered it with a napkin.

“Daddy!” shrieked a voice from the kitchen.

They turned to see Gabby standing in the doorway, looking crushed.

“Had something caught in my throat,” he lied.

“Oh, okay.”

“What the heck is this?” asked Andy.

“It’s…it’s a meal I cooked,” Gabby responded, looking like she was about to finally come unglued.

“It really looks good,” Brenda mother added, causing Andy to laugh so hard some of his salad dressing came back out his mouth.

Gabby brought another bowl of something and slammed it on the table.

Her father tried to console Gabby, but only got more threatening looks from his wife.

“We were just kidding, honey,” he mentioned. “I’m sure it’ll be good. Give it a try, Andy.”

“No way!” Andy protested, a horrified and somewhat defiant look on his face. “You do it!”

Andy slid the bowl over to Lucky, who suddenly wished for the comfort of his own home, a place where his father certainly never put together a meal like this. His father wasn’t a chef and cooked simple meals, but never put together some contraption like this.

He felt all the eyes on him, especially those belonging to Gabby. She had stopped crying for a second, hitting the pause button while waiting to see Lucky’s reaction.

Lucky forced a smile and took the bowl from Andy, his former friend. He ignored the look of amusement by Andy and placed the bowl down next to his plate. This was not easy for Lucky. He was a picky eater and seldom tried anything new. Or anything that looked half as disgusting as this.

He got the spoon and put a small helping on his plate.

“There’s plenty more!” Stan pointed out. “Help yourself!”

Lucky had always been taught to respect his elders. It was probably a good thing or he would have said something Stan would not have approved of.

“I usually don’t eat very much,” Lucky pointed out, a statement his father would not agree with.

“Yeah, dig in,” Andy mentioned. “Don’t be shy.”

“I just want to make sure there’s enough for everybody,” Lucky replied, sliding the bowl back to Andy.

Gabby came to the table and sat down by Lucky, eyeing him with great expectation.

Lucky reluctantly grabbed his fork. He scooped up a small portion of food and slowly moved it toward his mouth, hoping it did not cause him to get sick.

He knew they were watching. Lucky closed his eyes so he didn’t actually have to look at the food. He wished his nose was stopped up so smelling was not possible, but the aroma was too strong.

Lucky forced his mouth open and finally put the bite in his mouth and closed down as he removed the fork. He chewed it several times and tried to swallow before his taste buds revolted.

It hit him. The taste wasn’t the worst thing he ever had, but still wasn’t anything Lucky wanted to eat.

“How is it?” Gabby asked.

“It’s not bad,” Lucky answered. It wasn’t really a fib. Close, but not quite. He took another small bite and forced a smile.

Andy eyed him suspiciously, believing Lucky was trying to fool him.

He looked at his watch and tried to act surprised. “Well, would you just look at the time,” Andy stated. “I guess I better go study. Want to make good grades, you know.”

He actually stood up and started walking out of the dining room. Andy made two steps before his father’s glare froze him in mid-step.

“Judging from your grades, I never knew you were that serious about studying,” Stan commented. “You’ll have plenty of time to do that after we eat.”

The message was quite clear. If he was going to have to eat this slop, Andy would also.

Lucky had never been more relieved for a meal to end. Everybody eventually ate a little, just enough to keep from hurting Gabby’s feelings.

“What is this?” Andy asked after his first bite.

His father made sure Gabby was out of hearing range.

“We probably don’t want to know.”

Gabby ate like a pig, throwing down two helpings. Lucky looked on in amazement, wondering if she really thought the food was good or did it to prove it could be done.

Lucky helped Gabby and Brenda clean after everybody finished. He even washed some of the dishes, hoping to score a few brownie points with her mother. Brenda finally ran them out of the kitchen, not satisfied with the quality of the cleaning and convinced they were making even a bigger mess. Plus, with them gone, she could find something to snack on.

Andy had somehow forgotten about his homework and plopped down on the couch to watch television with his father. They were watching one of those shows consisting of videos of people doing really stupid things.

Lucky and Gabby spent some time doing homework. They had a test in algebra the next day, a class that gave him more trouble than any other. It didn’t even worry Gabby a bit since it was her favorite subject.

They wrapped up the night by watching a movie. Lucky was tired but surprised himself by staying awake. It was a movie about some poor girl who meets her knight in shining armor. He went bad for a while before her love brought him back to her, of course.

The movie was one of Gabby’s favorites. This was the second time they watched it. Lucky hoped it was the last. Their family had a rather extensive video collection and Lucky was convinced there had to be something better than this.

Gabby cried for most of the last part of the movie.

“I just love that movie,” she remarked, wiping away the tears with a napkin. She blew her nose, making a noise that probably woke the neighbors. “Did you like it?”

Not much more than I did the other time, Lucky wanted to say, but didn’t.

“It was okay,” he answered, gathering up his stuff.

“You just didn’t like it cause there weren’t any car crashes and nobody got shot.”

No, I didn’t like it cause it was boring, Lucky wanted to say, but didn’t.

“It was fine,” he finally added.

“You sure?”

Lucky nodded, trying to hide a yawn.

“Good, then we’ll watch it again sometime,” she added.

Lucky realized he had just wasted almost ninety minutes of his life for the second time on this movie. But it made her happy, so it was worth it.

She escorted him downstairs and out to the car to drive him home. Lucky bid her good night, thanked her for everything and barely made it up to his bed. He was so tired the clothes never came off.

Cole knew his son wasn’t the only tired player. They had been going since the first week of August without a break and played thirteen games along with two scrimmages. That was more games than most of the colleges played. The Panthers were dragging. Their legs were heavy and their bodies protested the abuse. Cole lightened up the practices, hoping to get the players’ legs back. He also stressed to the boys to get plenty of rest and sleep.

Cole had his team hit less than usual and spent most of the time going over strategy. He decided if the Panthers didn’t know how to block or tackle by know, they probably weren’t going to learn by Saturday.

As the week went on, the players stopped dragging so much and started eliminating the mental errors. The Panthers spent more time studying and talking about Honobia than usual. The Lions were fairly simple to prepare for. They were a team that tried to run over their opponent on offense and manhandle the opposing offenses.

Cole was very impressed with Honobia. The Lions were well-coached, a veteran team with mostly seniors starting. They were used to playing big games and winning them.

Honobia’s line was excellent, as good or better than anybody Petros had faced all season. The Lions were big up front, strong and tough. Cole had not seen film of any team that could match up against the Lions. It did not surprise him that opponents were usually dominated.

The backs were also good, not blessed with great speed but making up for it with hard running and smarts.

Cole had never faced a team with such a long winning streak. Honobia’s seniors had never lost a varsity game. That was hard to believe as he knew the pressure must be terrible. Not that it seemed to bother Honobia.

He knew how good Honobia was, but still felt confident Petros could win and spent all week telling everybody.

Cole talked to writers from both the major newspapers about the game. They wanted quotes about how great Honobia was. Both writers were trying to do stories about a possible championship game between Honobia and Anson, the top two teams in the class.

He would not play along, twisting the comments to get the story to where Cole wanted it. He especially enjoyed his conversation with the writer from Oklahoma City.

“You are playing against a great team,” the writer stated, not bothering to ask a question.

Cole waited for the writer to continue, then decided that must be his method.

“Honobia is a good team,” Cole replied. “But we have a good team also and look forward to the challenge.”

The writer backtracked, still wanting some good comments on Honobia. He wanted some good adjectives to describe the Lions, not talk about Petros.

“During your years at Petros, is Honobia the best team you’ve seen in your classification?”

“We’ve seen a lot of good teams,” Cole commented. “We play a difficult non-district schedule to prepare for games like this. Our guys have gotten better every week. After playing like we have, our guys are very confident.”

This wasn’t going the way the writer hoped and he was getting a little frustrated.

“It is a great accomplishment for Honobia to have won forty-three straight games and going for a third-straight state championship,” the writer added. “Have you ever played a team with this much success.”

“Not that I can recall,” Cole answered. “We’ve won ten straight, so our guys know what it feels like to win.”

“Assuming Honobia wins this week…” the writer tried to say but never got the chance to finish.

“I’m not assuming Honobia will win,” Cole responded, knowing he was being a little difficult but still wanting to get the message across. “We’re going out there to win.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to say you didn’t have a chance to win. What I was getting at was if Honobia wins this week, do you think they have a chance against Anson?”

“I have no idea. We’re not looking past this week’s game and have no knowledge on who will be in the finals from the other half of the bracket.”

“Okay, but if you were a betting person…”

“I’m not a betting person.”

“Do you feel like the winner of your game this week has a chance to beat Anson?”

Cole was really starting to enjoy this.

“The team that wins has a much better chance than the team that loses,” Cole pointed out, then wished he hadn’t. “There are three other teams in the semifinals and I believe every team has a chance to win.”

The writer finally got tired and decided to call it a day.

When the newspaper came out the following day, there was a lengthy article on the possible showdown between Honobia and Anson in the finals.

There were several quotes from other coaches, but Cole was only quoted once since he would not talk about a possible game.

The coach at Anson, Jerry “The Bull” Pitchford was as good as any in the state, Cole knew, and did not add a lot to the story either.

“I’m sure Honobia is a great team,” he was quoted. “But Honobia is going to have its hands full against Petros just to get in the finals. Those boys can play some football and anybody looking past them will regret it. We have all our attention on Windsor. If we don’t take care of our business against them, we won’t have to worry about playing in the finals.”

The article also had several quotes from the Windsor and Honobia coaches. The Honobia coach speculated a great deal about playing Anson in the finals, even saying this was what his team had worked for all year.

Cole was not surprised to get a call that morning from an old friend.

“You just wouldn’t play along,” the caller mentioned. Cole recognized the caller from his southern drawl. It was Bull Pitchford, the longtime coach at Anson.

“The writer got a little frustrated,” Cole admitted.

“Good. That coach at Honobia didn’t play that very good. He should’ve just talked about playing you guys. Can you take them?”

Cole knew whatever he said would go no farther than what was said here.

“They’re tough,” Cole stated. “Big and strong. But we’ve had more problems with speed than size. I really feel like we can win it."

”It sure wouldn’t surprise me,” Pitchford agreed. “I haven’t seen any film of you guys or Honobia, but from what I've heard you guys are playing pretty good.”

“We’ve improved a lot and getting better every week. Our guys are used to playing as the underdog so it doesn’t bother them.”

“Well, I’ve gotta go,” Bull said. “Good luck.”

“Same to you,” Cole replied, doubting his friend needed it. “I hope to see you again next week.”

“Same here.”

Chapter 51

Chapter 49

2005-10-21T05:06:00.000-07:00

As Cole watched the backfield get together, he wondered what the chances were of having a backfield consisting of two sophomores and a junior starting in the quarterfinals.

The two teams made their way back out on the field at the same time. The large Albion crowd showed more enthusiasm than they had all night.

Skip and Seth went back to return the kick, a high floater that came down at the 11. Skip took off on a sprint right up the gut. It looked like he busted free, but the final player caught Skip’s foot and tripped him up.

The Albion defense came out on the field, also showing more enthusiasm. They looked and acted like they wanted blood. It was obvious the coaches had ripped into them at the half and whatever was said certainly motivated the players.

Petros ran three plays and lost yardage on each one. Albion was blitzing and stunting on each play, confusing the Panthers’ line, which had not expected this kind of pressure after dominating the first half.

With each negative play for Petros, Albion’s players got more fired up, as did the fans.

On the sideline, Cole’s worries increased. This was not the kind of start he hoped to see. He sent Jeremy in with instructions to kick the ball away from the returner.

The punting team lined up for the kick. The snap was perfect and Jeremy just ripped one, probably the best punt of his career. It was a rocket that sailed above and beyond the returner. It hit and bounced back toward the sideline.

The returner had to sprint back to retrieve the ball, picking it up just before it bounced past the sidelines. The ball had traveled over 60 yards before it was fielded.

Jeremy had outkicked his coverage, giving the returner plenty of time to retrieve the ball and start back upfield before the Panthers chased him down.

“Uh oh,” muttered Lloyd, who recognized the danger before anybody else.

Cole started thinking the same thing, even before he saw the wall of blockers setting up on the far side of the field. Petros’ coaches hollered at the players to get over to the far side and waved for them to spread out, but it was all for naught.

The only question was if the returner could get across the field and to the wall before the Panthers reached him.

The answer soon became obvious. The returner, one of the fastest sprinters in the state, easily outran the Panthers and found his buddies waiting for him. After he cleared the wall, only one player was waiting for him and it was Jeremy.

It was a mismatch. Jeremy tried forcing the returner toward the sidelines, but could only watch as the Albion player flew by him without breaking stride.

Just that quickly, it was a game again.

All the Petros players and fans were in disbelief. They were not used to seeing a human move that fast. A car, maybe. A person, never.

The kick was just inside the uprights, cutting the lead to 10-7 with most of the third quarter still remaining.

Albion’s kicker knew the previous kick had almost been returned and was determined that would not happen again. He squibbed the kick, the ball bouncing along the ground until Anthony Hart fielded it at the 27, got up to the 31 and was tackled.

A roar was building on the Albion side, louder than any Petros had heard this season. The Antlers’ band was blasting away and most of the people in the stands were doing a dance along with the music. The Panthers were a little unnerved for the first time all night as they huddled.

Lucky realized this and knew he had to do something.

“Everybody just needs to calm down,” he told his teammates. “We’ve got to get focused and move the ball.”

The other players nodded, but Lucky knew they weren’t over the nerves. The touchdown served as extra motivation for the defense. They were flying around the field, showing the same kind of speed and play Cole saw on film.

Petros ran only three plays again, picking up minimal yardage before having to punt. Jeremy followed Cole’s instructions this time, kicking the ball out of bounds.

Albion’s offense came roaring out on the field, ready to capitalize on the play of the defense and the good field position. Petros’ defense came through again, shutting down two running plays. On third down, Skip knocked down a pass to force the Antlers to punt again.

On the previous play, Tim Treadway was shaken up and limped to the sidelines with a twisted ankle. Cole went to check on him, found out everything was okay then came back to where the other coaches were standing.

“What’s the call?” he asked.

“We’re going after it,” Ichabod answered, following the same strategy they had used all game.

As soon as Cole heard this, he got a bad feeling. He tried to get the attention of the players on the field to call a timeout or change the call but all the noise drained him out.

He looked quite comical, running up and down the sidelines, waving his arms and screaming. The other coaches didn’t have a clue what was going on, but joined in. Nobody on the field noticed the coaches and as the ball was snapped, ten Panthers went after the punter, flying through the line with no resistance.

The coaches saw the snap go to the upback, watching in disbelief as the Panthers flew by, intent on going after the punter, who gave a performance worth an Oscar. He jumped high, acting like the snap went over his head, then sprinted back toward his own end zone, keeping the Panthers after him.

The upback simply took the snap and headed up the field, finding no resistance from any of the Panthers. He had a line of blockers in front of him and only Skip between him and a touchdown. Skip sprinted up the field, wondering how to break through the line of blockers and make the tackle or at least slow the Albion player down enough for help to arrive.

He avoided the first wave of blockers, but the second group caught him. The first blocker held Skip while the second came in from the side, hitting him hard and driving him to the ground.

It was the hardest he had ever been hit and knew something was wrong quickly. His side felt like somebody hit him with a bat. All he could do was lie on the ground as the Albion players rushed by with the runner right behind, nobody having a chance to stop him.

As the play continued, Cole watched Skip, hoping he could somehow shake off whatever was bothering him and get up. It wasn't happening, though. Cole knew Skip had to be hurt because he was not the type to stay down unless something was really wrong.

With a wild celebration going on across the field, Cole ran out on the field to check on Skip.

“What’s wrong?” Cole asked, dipping to a knee beside his player, who was down on all fours.

Skip was in enough pain the words hardly came out.

“Side,” he finally replied.

Doc Hardy arrived just behind Cole.

“Is it your ribs?” the doctor asked.

Skip nodded, gritting his teeth to try and muzzle the pain.

Some of the other players formed around Skip before Stub chased them away. They slowly helped Skip to his feet and escorted him to the sidelines. The Panthers were losing backs faster than they could replace them as D.J. was out, Kenneth and Happy were already injured and now Skip was banged up.

The only other runner available with any experience was Derwin. He knew the plays, of course, but had played little this year. Plus, Derwin was not very fast and would have trouble even hitting the hole because of Albion’s speed.

But Derwin was the only choice, the coaches decided. The only other backs were sophomores who played little this year, mainly in junior-varsity games.

Lucky realized he was the only starter in the backfield still able to play as he watched the kickoff. Seth caught the ball and brought it out to the 26.

The Panthers’ offense took the field, trailing for the first time. The first play was a dive to Derwin. His running style was similar to Happy, but was unable to hit the hole as quick. Derwin made it back to the line but could not advance any farther.

Cole called a pass on second down, hoping to fool the defense. It did fool the defense, at least most of them.

Lucky faked a dive to Seth, made it look like an option was coming and then stepped back. Harry had gotten behind the Albion defensive back by at least five yards. But just as Lucky started to throw the ball, Price House was pushed back into Lucky, causing the ball to fall harmlessly to the ground.

The Panthers went with a quarterback draw on third down, picking up six yards before getting chased down and tackled, well short of the first down.

Jeremy trotted back out on the field, ready to punt for the third time this quarter. His punt was just as Cole hoped to see as the ball rolled out of bounds at the Albion 42.

With the lead, Albion decided to gamble. The Panthers had lost half the secondary as Skip and Kenneth were out. Harry, Gary Bell, Lucky and Houston Painter were in at defensive backs.

Harry, Lucky and Gary had experience. Houston didn’t and that was who the Antlers went after. It was a play-action pass called against a blitzing defense. Houston was in man coverage against the Antlers’ fastest player, the split end who earlier returned the punt for a touchdown.

Houston played deep, knowing how fast the player was he was guarding. He read the play correctly and sprinted back, knowing a deep pass was coming and determined not to get burned.

The coverage was excellent. But as the ball came down, Houston’s feet got tangled up with the receiver and he fell. Albion’s receiver stumbled, regaining his balance just as the ball arrived.

Gary sprinted over to help after covering the tight end on a crossing route. He never gave up but could not catch the receiver, watching him catch the pass and sprint down the field, giving Albion its third touchdown of the quarter.

The Panthers were losing the faith as they watched the kick increase the lead to 21-10 with two minutes left in the quarter.

Petros’ morale was in bad shape. Not only were they losing the game, they knew many of their best players were on the sidelines, out with injuries.

Cole knew the offense would be hurting unless he put another player in for Derwin. The only player he had any confidence in was Houston. He had good speed, was smart and tough as a boot. But he only weighed one hundred fifty pounds, not exactly a power back.

But he knew things were slipping away and unless something happened quick, the Panthers would be putting up their gear Monday.

Since he wasn’t ready to start basketball or give up on these guys, he called everybody around him.

“Okay, I want everybody to look up at the scoreboard,” he directed, waiting to make sure everybody did so. “That clock shows there’s still two minutes and some change left in this quarter. You’ll also see that it’s only the third quarter.

“That means we still have over fourteen minutes to play in this game. We should get the ball at least three more times. It’s real simple, guys. All we need to do is score two times and keep Albion from scoring. We win and go home.”

There was one question everybody wanted to ask though, which was never voiced: How could they score against the Antlers and keep them from scoring.

Cole looked up in the stands and saw Sarah sitting among the Petros fans. She smiled and waved at him. He smiled back, hoping none of his players or coaches saw him.

He had no idea she was coming to the game and hated the thought that she and all the other Petros fans made this long trip if the Panthers lost.

Cole added a little wave, bringing another smile from her. He decided it would be a good idea to turn his attention back to the game.

Instead of squibbing the kick, the kicker tried a deep onside that failed badly as he kicked the ball out of bounds, giving Petros the ball at its own 35.

Cole looked out at his team and found this hard to believe. He never dreamed of seeing this backfield in the game, or his team could lose three running backs in a game.

Houston got the call on first down, knowing Albion would never expect it. The Antlers might not have expected it, but it was hard to tell. Albion blitzed a linebacker right up the gut and he nailed Houston in the backfield for a loss of two yards.

Lucky was growing frustrated, wanting to do something to turn the game around. Cole sent in an option to the right, a call that surprised him. He knew it would be almost impossible to get outside, but that didn’t mean the play wouldn’t work.

Even before the ball was snapped, Lucky decided to keep the ball, unless there was just a huge gap for Seth to run through. He took the snap and read the defensive tackle. If the lineman went for Seth, Lucky would keep the ball. All game, the defensive tackles had been going after the running back and that was the case again. Seeing that the tackle was concerned with Seth, Lucky faked the handoff, took one more step then saw the hole and took off after it.

The hole was closing quickly but Lucky darted through it, then cut back across the field, catching the Antlers pursuing in the wrong direction.

He ran through an arm tackle and broke into the secondary. Lucky was as fast as anybody on his team, but knew several Antlers could smoke him in a race.

One of the Antlers was closing the gap quickly and caught Lucky near the sidelines. But as soon as the Albion player grabbed him, Lucky, spun around, broke free and shoved him to the ground.

Lucky felt the pressure bearing down on him and cut back across the field. Some of his teammates were coming also, taking care of some of the Albion players with some good blocking. He hurdled over one player who dove at his ankles and Lucky was ahead of the defenders again.

The Antlers recovered and had him pinned at the 25. Lucky slowed down, acted like he was going out of bounds, then spun around again, once more crossing across the field.

He was winded but determined to get into the end zone. One defender caught him and grabbed Lucky at the seven. He was not to be denied after going this far, however, and once again twisted away, almost falling down during the process before breaking free.

Lucky had to put his left hand down to keep from falling and to regain his balance. One last Albion player grabbed him from behind and this time, Lucky could not spin away. Realizing what needed to be done, Lucky started churning his legs and continued making his way toward the end zone, even with the extra one hundred and eighty pounds along for the ride.

He gave out just inside the one and leaned forward, stretching his body and the ball into the end zone for the score.

All the players, coaches and fans on the Petros side were in disbelief, not believing what they just saw. Cole stood with his mouth open, wondering how his youngest son did that. It was as good of a run as he had seen, especially in a situation like this.

Lucky was so exhausted he could barely get up. His teammates helped him up while congratulating him and escorted him to the sidelines. Once he finally got there, all he could do was drop to a knee, unable to acknowledge the congratulations from his teammates.

Cole made an error and did not realize it until it was too late. The score was cut to 21-16 and the kicking team was on the field, lining up for the kick.

Lloyd came storming up to his father.

“Let’s go for two,” he suggested.

“What?” Cole asked, barely able to hear his oldest son.

“We need to go for two,” Lloyd repeated, practically shouting in his father’s ear. “If we make it we’ll only be behind by three and could tie the score with a field goal.”

Cole and the other coaches tried to get the players’ attention but it was useless. They were already lining up for the kick and nobody looked to the sidelines. On the field, the snap was perfect, as was the kick to cut the lead to 21-17.

As the teams came to the sidelines, Ichabod pulled the kickoff team around him and gave out directions, stressing not to kick the ball deep, but instead to squib the ball on the ground.

Jeremy followed the instructions, bouncing the ball end-over-end. The football took a funny bounce at the 30 and all the Antlers player could do was fall on it.

The Panthers attacked with a passion, capturing the tailback in the backfield twice for losses. Albion was now faced with third-and-long and came out in a spread offense for the first time.

Petros switched defenses to make sure everybody was covered. The quarterback got the snap off just before the quarter ended.

He dropped back to pass as the four wideouts ran short, crossing patterns. Petros blitzed seven, only using four in coverage.

Nobody saw it coming as the play was run perfectly. Just before the defense got to him, the quarterback lobbed a pass over their heads to the tailback, who had set up behind the line and caught the ball.

As soon as he caught the ball, the tailback realized there was no reason to wait on the blockers to clear a path as none of the Panthers were near him. Only two Petros players were between him and the goal and they were both being blocked by wideouts.

The other two defensive backs had figured out what was happening and were in pursuit, but it was no use as the tailback was too fast and had too big of a lead.

He appeared to have been shot out of a cannon as the tailback rocketed down the field, never slowing until crossing into the end zone.

The Panthers were going through a roller coaster of emotions after scoring a touchdown to get back in the game and then give up another score to the Antlers.

The extra point was perfect and the lead was back up to 11 points, 28-17.

Cole and the other coaches did their best to pump up the players, knowing how disappointed they were to give up the score.

Once again, Petros was on the ropes and needed something good to happen.

The two teams switched ends before lining up for the kick. On the kickoff, Seth fielded the ball and brought it back to the 31. The offense took the field and huddled seven yards behind where the ball was marked.

Lucky looked around the huddle and saw all eyes glued to him.

“Isn’t this great?” he asked, causing his teammates to look at him like he had lost his mind. “They’ll be talking about what we do this fourth quarter for years to come. This is our game and our time. Let’s make it happen.”

The talk gave a little bit of spirit to the players and they started whooping and hollering.

“It’s time for us to win the game,” Lucky added, sticking his hand in the middle. All his offensive teammates did the same and they yelled “Panthers” in unison.

Lucky called the play and the offense broke the huddle. The only thing that had worked consistently all night was the power game and the Panthers were going to try it again. The biggest problem was neither of the backs could be considered power backs.

Nobody bothered to tell Seth or Houston, however. Running with a fury and determination they never showed before, they started pounding into a line that was opening holes again.

Albion’s defense was determined not to give up another big play, allowing the Panthers to pick up short yardage and Petros took advantage.

Seth started showing more talent and ability than anybody knew he possessed, leading his team slowly down the field, refusing to be taken down with the first hit.

Lucky carried only twice on the drive, both carries picking up needed first downs. It took 13 plays, but Petros finally reached the Albion 11. The Antlers had tightened up the defense but had not stopped the Panthers.

Petros was facing second-and-seven. As Lucky led his team to the line, he noticed the coverage and saw Albion was covering Andy with only one player, a mistake many teams had tried before and usually regretted.

Lucky changed the call at the line. It was a gamble as an incompletion would force third-and-long, but it was one he thought was worth the risk.

As the ball was snapped, the defensive back came forward to get the first hit in on Andy. But it was a bad move, Andy simply stepped to the side to avoid the hit and started down the field, the defensive back trying to recover.

The lead was shrinking but Andy had a good advantage as he sprinted toward the end zone. Lucky faked the handoff to Houston and dropped back, enjoying plenty of time. He planted his foot and tossed the ball toward his teammate.

It was a perfect pass, leading Andy just right. The defensive back was a step late and could only watch the reception and the touchdown that got the Panthers back in the game.

Petros’ side went crazy again, the old bleachers testing the strength of the rock and concrete. Cole looked at the clock and saw less than five minutes remaining.

He got the offense together and told them to go for two, then gave the formation and play. As the band played the school song loudly in the stands, Petros’ offense took the field. Players on the sidelines waved their arms, trying to get the crowd even more excited, not that it was possible.

Everybody in the stadium stood, knowing how important this extra point would be.

The offense lined up and Lucky looked over the defense, seeing the Antlers eyeing him back. As he took the snap, Lucky spun around and faked the ball to Seth on a power play. It was a bootleg with the option to either run or pass.

Murray was the only receiver going out, but was covered like a blanket.

Lucky tucked the ball and tried to get to the corner before the defense did. It was no use this time, the Antlers were all over him, getting him before he got to the five and keeping him from converting the two-point conversion.

The score was now 28-23. Petros would have to get a stop or the Panthers would have no chance. It was really too early for an onside kick and Albion had been prepared for it all night, anyway. If they did try it and Albion recovered, the Antlers would have a short field to work with.

Cole gave his instructions to the kicking team, hoping it was the right call. The kickoff team lined up in their normal formation and after getting the go-ahead, Jeremy slowly approached the ball and squibbed it down the field again, another perfect kick.

This time, the Antlers fielded the ball cleanly and the returner took off up the field, gaining speed as he advanced. Cole grew worried as he saw the play developing. The returner had broken into the open and it was looking like the Panthers would give up another big play in the kicking game.

But as the returner reached the 31, Jeremy came out of nowhere. He missed the tackle on the earlier return but would not allow that to happen again. He dove and caught the returner just below the neck, making him look like a rag doll that was thrown to the ground, his arms and legs flailing.

It saved the day for the Panthers because if Jeremy had not made the tackle, the Antlers would have scored.

“Whoo, that kept the overweight woman from singing a tune,” said Stub.

“What?” asked Lloyd.

“He’s trying to be politically correct,” Ichabod stated.

“Yeah,” Stub added, trying too hard to be clever.

“Whatever,” Lloyd responded, turning his attention back to the field.

The defense was huddled around Derwin, now more intense than ever, knowing his football playing days were near an end unless something happened.

“We stop them here!” he screamed. “Suck it up. Don’t give them a yard!”

Anybody seeing him for the first time would imagine Derwin was on the edge of sanity. His teammates knew it was only temporary, but also they had to do what he said.

Albion came to the line, both teams knowing all it took was one first down and the game might as well be over. The Antlers ran a sweep to the tailback, one of their favorite plays during the year but one that had not worked well tonight.

The Panthers pursued like madmen, scratching, clawing and fighting to reach the running back. Stewart Andrews was the defensive end on that side and played it perfectly. Reading the sweep, he burst into the backfield and angled away from the play, wanting to stretch it out to the sideline and let help arrive.

The tailback tried to outrun Stewart, but it was no use. Stewart got in the correct position and kept the runner under control until the rest of the defense arrived. Gary hit the tailback right in the chin, almost landing his own knockout.

It was a loss of two yards. Albion used as much time as possible before running the second play. This time, it was a simple blast over the right side. The hole was plugged and the tailback tried to bounce outside. Just as it looked like he might have room, Lucky hustled in from the secondary, dove and took the legs out from under the tailback, again dropping him for a loss.

Albion took its time again getting the play called and coming to the line. The Antlers waited until the play clock was under five seconds before starting the play, an option to the right side.

Petros’ defense just demolished the play, getting penetration and forcing the quarterback to pitch the ball before he was ready. Lucky and Gary were already in the backfield and had the tailback trapped before bringing him down for another big loss.

It was now fourth-and-long. The clock continued counting down. There were only two minutes left when the punter finally kicked the ball.

The punt was another beauty, sailing way over Harry’s head and bouncing out of bounds on the Petros 11.

The Panthers had 89 yards to go with just under two minutes left against one of the best defenses in Class 2A.

Petros lined up in the spread. Lucky took the snap and rolled to his right. Harry broke free and caught the pass at the 20 before stepping across the sidelines to stop the clock.

The Panthers huddled quickly then came to the line. It was second-and-one so Lucky wanted to pick up the first down. Seth got the call on a dive and burst through the line, picking up six yards and a first down at the 26.

Petros lined up without huddling, waiting until the chains were set then snapped the ball. Lucky threw a quick slant to Andy. He had to leap to catch the pass and was tackled quickly, picking up only six yards and not stopping the clock.

Cole called his first time out, knowing the clock would probably tick off thirty seconds if they did not stop it. The offense slowly came to the sidelines where Cole was waiting, not pleased with Lucky’s decision.

“We’ve got to throw the ball far enough to pick up the dang first down and get the clock stopped,” Cole reminded his quarterback. “We can’t be wasting timeouts like that. If you throw the ball short of the first-down marker, make sure it’s where the receiver can get out of bounds.”

Lucky nodded, already knowing he made a mistake. He listened to his father’s instructions and led his team back out on the field. He had learned quickly that against a team like Albion, the pass had to be perfect or the great speed of the defenders enabled them to knock the ball down.

Plus, Petros’ players, without D.J., Skip and Kenneth, did not really have the speed to break free. All of the Panthers’ speed was out of the game.

As the Panthers broke the huddle and came to the line, Lucky looked over the defense and something caught his eye. Walking across the far end zone was Skip, hurrying to get his pads back on and to the bench.

The doctor must have examined him and determined the injury wasn’t severe. The sight of Skip made Lucky feel better. Petros’ crowd saw him and started cheering, making Skip go faster.

Albion’s secondary was playing well off the ball, willing to give up the short pass. Lucky had decided not to bite on that again, though.

Andy was lined up wide to the right. The Antlers had their best defensive back lined up to cover him. Lucky knew it would have to be a perfect pass and decided that was what he would deliver. The snap was a little low and he dropped it, then had trouble picking it up.

He finally got control of the ball and stood up, right before one of Albion’s linebackers broke through and slammed into him. Lucky was knocked back several feet, but never lost his footing as the linebacker failed to wrap him up.

The pressure was still coming, Lucky felt it and saw it, so he sprinted to the right, barely escaping the rush.

He was amazed at the team speed again. Albion’s linemen were faster than the backs on other teams Petros played. Nobody was open so Lucky continued rolling out, scanning the field and looking for any open receiver.

Lucky finally gave up and took off to the sideline, determined to pick up what he could before going out of bounds. He continued down the sidelines, picking up fifteen yards before getting nailed so hard it almost knocked him into the Petros bench.

The play was in front of the Petros bench and the coaches and fans hollered for a late hit but no flag emerged from the official’s pocket.

Lucky jogged back out toward the huddle, knowing he would feel that hit in the morning. The Panthers huddled up and he relayed the call.

It was one that even surprised him, one of Cole’s little nuggets that was saved all year before coming out of hibernation. Petros had run the play in practice many times, but never in a game.

The Panthers came out in the shotgun again with only Lucky and Seth in the backfield. Lucky barked the signals while looking over the defense. As the ball was snapped, Lucky jumped up then headed back toward his own goal line.

Albion’s defense saw this and took off after Lucky. The Antlers thought the ball was snapped over his head and saw this as a chance to come up with a big play on defense and hopefully end the Panthers' drive.

There was only one problem: The snap wasn’t over his head and Lucky didn’t have the ball. Seth took a direct snap and was breaking into the secondary with plenty of running room.

The fumble earlier in the game was still bothering him and Seth was determined to make up for it. He ran past one defender who was left clutching nothing but air.

The other defensive backs figured out what was happening, but had trouble getting away from the blockers. Seth wound his way down the field, eventually reaching the Albion 15 before getting brought down by the free safety.

There was still over a minute left. The Petros side was ecstatic, of course, making so much noise it was difficult to hear the call.

Cole was thinking of the next play when he was tapped on the shoulder. He turned around to see who was bothering him and saw Skip standing beside him, fastening his chinstrap.

“I’m good to go,” Skip advised.

“You sure?” Cole asked.

“Yes sir.”

Cole looked at Doc Hardy to make sure Skip could play.

“He’s sore but fine,” the doctor advised. “Bruised but not broken.”

“Go in there,” Cole instructed.

The crowd somehow grew even louder as they saw Skip jogging out on the field. Houston saw him coming in and gave him a high five as he came toward the bench.

Petros came out in a split-back with Seth and Skip at running back. Lucky faked the ball to Seth, then handed off to Skip on a crossbuck. He cut back and found some room, reaching the 6 before two defenders brought him down.

The clock was running, looking like it was set on fast forward to the Petros side. After everybody got untangled, the Panthers lined up without huddling. Seth got the call on a blast over the left side, following behind Skip. He had no room to run and tried bouncing outside, but was run down and tackled in the backfield.

Cole hated to do it but had to call another timeout. He decided on a call before the Panthers came to the sidelines.

He started to call the play but was stopped.

“Coach, run the same play,” pleaded Seth, stepping forward and facing his coach.

“What?” Cole asked.

“Please run the same play,” Seth repeated. “I’ll score this time.”

Cole was stunned to hear a sophomore make a request like this. He was prepared to call a play for Skip, to go with his best player. Not a sophomore with little playing time who was prone to fumbling. But something about the passion in Seth’s voice, the look in his eyes made the coach honor the request.

“Run it,” he instructed, looking at Lucky. As the team started back out on the field, Cole grabbed Lucky and held him for a few seconds until they were by themselves. “If it doesn’t work, call time so we can run another play.”

“We won’t need to,” Lucky replied. “Seth will score.”

Lucky smiled at his father and jogged back out on the field. The Panthers huddled for a few seconds then came to the line. The Antlers were expecting a pass and got out of the goal-line defense.

Lucky took the snap, spun around and placed the ball in Seth’s belly. Seth put both arms around the ball, determined not to fumble. He took two steps to his left, then angled into the line, cutting behind Skip.

There really wasn’t much of a hole, but that didn’t matter to Seth. He lowered his head and plowed forward, throwing all one hundred and fifty pounds of determination against the defense.

The Antlers put up a determined stand but were losing ground. Petros’ line got enough of a push that the pile slowly went back. Two Albion players grabbed hold of Seth, but he broke away. He kept pumping his legs and pushing forward, running behind two linemen and Skip.

The play seemed to be in slow motion for everybody in the stands. It was impossible to tell what was happening with the mass of humanity gathered together. A crease finally opened, a small gap Seth saw and dove through. He closed his eyes and hoped his body and the ball would land in the end zone.

He was hit and landed hard on the ground, lying on his back. As his eyes opened, Seth saw the stars above, along with a moon that was nothing more than a sliver shining brightly. He turned his head to the right and saw his teammates rushing toward him, jumping up and down.

Seth turned over and started getting up. He glanced toward the sidelines and saw an official standing only a few yards away, his arms raised, the whistle in his mouth blowing loudly.

Before he got to his feet, his teammates arrived and swarmed all over him. Slowly, it was sinking in. He had scored and put his team ahead.

As his teammates pounded on him and hugged him, Seth pointed his arm to the heavens and gave thanks.

He started jogging toward the sidelines, taking in the sights. His teammates were still jumping and down and moving out on the field, waiting to mob him. He heard the band playing the school song and among all the people, Seth saw his parents hugging each other. The other people in the stands near them were congratulating his parents. The sight of this made Seth feel even better.

Cole was the first to greet him.

“I’m glad I listened to you,” he hollered, hugging him.

“So am I,” Seth agreed, smiling and feeling a joy that was impossible to describe.

Jeremy was perfect on the conversion, increasing Petros’ lead to 30-28.

Now, the only thing worrying Cole was there were still thirty seconds left and they had to stop the Antlers one more time. He knew this would not be easy.

Cole grabbed Jeremy and told him to kick the ball out of bounds, to not even think about trying to kick the ball deep. It would give Albion the ball at the 35, but Cole knew this was safer.

After the kick sailed out of bounds, Albion’s offense took the field. The Antlers spread the field with receivers everywhere.

They threw a short slant on first down. The receiver was between two defenders and reached out to grab the pass, but bobbled it. Just as he tried to extend his arms to reel in the ball, Lucky arrived and plastered him, forcing the ball to drop to the ground

Cole was not feeling good about what he saw and jogged down to talk with Ichabod.

“We can’t let them have so much room,” Cole said. “Tighten up the coverage and get after the quarterback.”

Ichabod nodded. He really wasn’t crazy about the plan, but didn’t want to see any of those receivers catch the ball with room to run, either. He gave the defense the instructions and started chewing on his fingernails again. Not that there was anything to chew on after a game like this.

It was a call Derwin liked to hear. He gave no indication of what was coming and waited for the ball to move. As soon as the center moved the ball, Derwin exploded forward. He found a small gap between the left guard and tackle and ran through it.

The quarterback never saw it coming. He was still looking over the field, saw a receiver break free across the middle and set his plant foot when Derwin arrived. It was the quarterback’s worst nightmare, getting hit from behind with no idea it was coming.

Derwin lowered his head and hit the quarterback in the back, forcing the Albion player’s midsection to surge forward while the rest of his body stayed in place. The quarterback was almost split in half by the force of the hit.

He tried to maintain control of the ball but it popped free. Derwin saw the ball bouncing away and crawled over the quarterback’s body. He dove again, barely getting his hands on the ball before a pair of Antlers arrived and started wrestling with him.

The referee saw it all and knew who recovered even without breaking up the pile. He started signaling it was Petros’ ball. Even Cole jumped in the air, higher than he thought his old body could go.

It was pure pandemonium, a moment and a feeling Cole would remember forever.

Lucky had not realized how tired he was until the celebration died. He gathered the offense around him, ready to run one final play and start celebrating.

He watched the different reactions and emotions of the two teams. Petros was on top of the mountain, happy to pull this one off. Albion was at the bottom of a valley, looking like everybody was in a state of shock. The fans on Albion’s side were quiet, a steady stream heading for the parking lot.

It was a beautiful sight to Lucky. He was exhausted but felt so alive.

He got the offense lined up, took the snap and fell to one knee. Lucky looked at the clock and watched the seconds tick away, hearing the countdown from the Petros side. When the zero finally appeared, the horn sounded and Lucky held the ball high, jumping in the air despite his lack of energy.

The Panthers had pulled off a huge upset, one of the biggest wins in school history coming from a group nobody thought had a chance to beat Albion.

All the Petros side joined together in the celebration, making it difficult for the players to shake hands with the Antlers. Cole stepped back to watch the celebration, smiling like he hadn’t in years and feeling the same way, also. This group had brought such joy to him and to pull off a win like this made everything worthwhile.

He stood in the same spot for several minutes, shaking hands with everybody who came by, hugging his former players. Whenever Cole did call it quits, he hoped to remember moments like this, not the painful losses.

Cole was so intent on watching his players hugging everybody, some even kissing their favorite females that he never heard her come up from behind.

She tapped on his arm. Cole turned to see who it was, still smiling. After seeing it was Sarah, emotions overcome him.

He reached out and hugged her, even gave away a kiss. The players nearby saw this and cheered loudly.

“Congratulations,” she said, looking into his eyes.

“Thank you,” Cole answered, not wanting to let go. “Thanks for coming.”

“I loved it,” Sarah admitted, looking around. “We’ve got an audience, you know.”

Cole looked around to see what she was talking about. Many of his players were still staring at him, a look of surprise and shock on their faces to see their coach hugging some woman in the middle of the field.

“You go, Coach!” shouted Harry.

Cole started to get embarrassed, then realized there was no reason to feel that way. He stood beside Sarah, his arm around her.

Only a few people knew he was seeing Sarah. But the cat was definitely out of the bag now, Cole thought.

“Get a room!” Derwin hollered, a comment Cole did not quite grasp.

He turned to Sarah and looked into her eyes.

“I better go round up these boys or we’ll be here all night,” he stated. “I’ll talk to you in a little bit.”

She smiled as he walked away, a little limp from his bad leg. He could barely get through the crowd with all the people congratulating him.

----------

There was still a sense of joy in the locker room, but it was fading. The players were exhausted after this roller coaster of a game. Even the players who never left the bench had little energy.

Cole grabbed Lloyd’s cell phone and called his scout at the Honobia game.

The phone only rang once before it was answered.

“Hello, Lance, this is Cole,” he announced.

“Hello and congratulations,” Lance replied. “They just announced the score of your game. Everybody acted really surprised. I believe most of the people expected to play Albion next week.”

“That isn’t surprising. How’s your game going?”

“It’s bad.”

“Why?”

“Honobia’s leading fifty-six to nothing with half the fourth quarter left.”

Cole was amazed at the score. He didn’t know how anybody could beat Summerfield that bad. Summerfield had a few problems on its team, but Cole never thought anybody in their class could deliver a beating like this. He knew Honobia was good, but had no idea the Lions were that good.

“What happened?” Cole asked.

“Whatever Honobia wanted,” Lance reported. “Summerfield looked like a junior-high team against them. Summerfield’s coach acted like a baby, throwing his hat and screaming at the refs. He got tossed in the third quarter. That was the highlight of the game for me.”

Cole thought that was interesting, but was more worried about his next opponent.

“Tell me about Honobia,” he requested.

“They’re an impressive team,” Lance stated. “They’re a bunch of big, mean studs. I haven’t seen a team so physical in a long time. They just pound the heck out of you. Their lines are huge and good. The backs also have good size and run hard.

“But their defense impressed me more than anything. It’s easy to see why they’re leading the state in defense. They must have sacked Summerfield’s quarterback ten times. The old boy didn’t have time to blow his nose before somebody was in his face.”

“Well, did you see any weaknesses?”

“I wasn’t all that impressed with their waterboys,” Lance mentioned. “They were a little late getting out on the field a couple of times. Their band was bad, too. But I failed to see anything wrong with their football team. I’ve never seen a team get so many players knocked out of a game.”

This was a little disturbing to Cole. With as many players as he had hurt, they couldn’t afford to lose many more or they would play with the junior-varsity team.

“Can we beat them?” Cole asked.

He was answered by a long silence that told him more than Lance could.

“Well, we’d have to play a dang good game,” Lance responded. “Honobia’s not your average football team. I don’t know how a team from such a small town can produce so many good football players.”

“You aren’t making me feel all that great.”

“You don’t pay me to make you feel good. I’m supposed to report what I see.”

Cole laughed and promised to get in touch with Lance tomorrow when they had more time.

The players knew what their coach was doing and were waiting to hear from him.

“We got Honobia next,” Cole announced.

Many of the players nodded. They really didn’t know much about Honobia since Petros never played the school. The only thing they knew was the Lions must be pretty good.

“Where will we play?” asked Derwin.

“Don’t know yet,” Cole answered. “It will be at some neutral sight.”

“What’s a neutral sight?” asked Bobby Murdoch, getting a laugh out of many of his teammates.

“We’ll play somewhere other than Petros or Honobia,” Lucky explained.

“What was the score?” asked Skip.

“It’s not over yet,” Cole reported. “But it’s not close.”

Cole’s throat was dry. He got some water and put away most of it in one swig.

“Guys, I’m really proud of you,” he stated. “This was one of the best wins we’ve ever had. You came here against a really good team on the road. We overcame a lot of injuries and being behind in the second half. You showed me a lot out there tonight. Enjoy this tonight and we’ll start working on Honobia tomorrow.”

Chapter 50

Chapter 48

2005-10-20T05:10:00.000-07:00

The bus finally arrived in Albion almost ninety minutes before the game was scheduled to start. It was a little earlier than Cole expected, but it gave everybody a chance to walk around the field and look everything over.

The stadium was an old one, built by the WPA work programs in the 1930’s like so many other stadiums in small towns like this. Cole could tell that by all the rock, one characteristic of structures built during that time period.

Cole had been through a couple of bloody battles on this field and expected another one tonight. As he walked around the field, Cole saw the field was in decent shape for this time of the year. The grass was dormant, of course, and brown, but not destroyed like so many other fields.

He noticed the grass was also mowed short, not that it surprised him. If his team had this much speed, the grass on the Petros field wouldn’t be much longer than that on golf greens.

Cole leaned down to feel the grass. As he kneeled down, thoughts of past games came back to him. The game his team won here was a better memory, of course, but he also remembered how his other team came back and almost won a game they had no right even competing in.

He looked up and saw some of the Albion players walking out on the field, wearing their solid purple uniforms with yellow numbers. Immediately behind them was their coach, Jimbo Winston.

Once again, Cole could not get over the size of the man. Jimbo was huge, standing over 6-5 and passing the 300-pound mark on the scales years before. He did have a rather large gut, but his arms would put many bodybuilders to shame and his legs looked like tree trunks.

He played some pro ball for the Cardinals back when they were in St. Louis, one of the bigger players in the NFL in those days.

Jimbo wore a purple toboggon that covered his bald head. A thick, purple jacket covered his upper torso and part of his gold pants.

Cole did not think it was that cold, but knew his body operated a little different than most.

Jimbo saw Cole and walked toward him, limping every few steps because of a bad knee that forced his early retirement. Cole forgot how big Jimbo was. Cole didn’t have the problems so many coaches did with the players talking back to him, and doubted Jimbo did either.

Jimbo’s smile was genuine. The only real change from the last time they saw each other was the pair of glasses perched on his nose, a sign of the advancing age that had hit both of them.

“It’s really good to see you again, Coach Cole,” Jimbo stated. He was the only person who ever called him that, although Cole did admit it had a nice ring to it. “Been a while since we played each other.”

“Yeah, it has,” Cole agreed, leaning forward and hugging his friend. “This is what it’s all about.”

“It certainly is. These are the kinds of games that keep me in this business.”

He said it as “bidness”, but Cole could care less.

“That’s certainly true,” Cole mentioned. “We’ve had some good ones over the years, huh?”

“Yeah, we have. It’s been strange not running into you in the playoffs the last few years.”

“We’ve been down a little. I’m not surprised to see you guys this deep in the playoffs. You have an excellent team.”

“We’ve been blessed this year,” Jimbo admitted. “This is one of my best teams. We’ve always had good speed, but the difference this year is our line’s a little better.”

“They impressed me,” Cole replied, a truthful statement. “I hope we win tonight, of course, but if we don't, I hope you guys go all the way."

”Thanks a lot, Coach Cole,” Jimbo added, putting his giant hand on Cole’s shoulder. “I tell you, I don’t know that I’ve ever seen one of your teams improve like you guys have this year. It’s been like night and day. That boy of yours is a good one.”

“Thanks. I’m pretty proud of him. He’s an even better kid.”

“I wouldn’t expect it any other way. All our guys were really impressed with your team. Especially the way you guys beat Summerfield. I was really glad to see that. You know me, I get along with most everybody. But I just don’t much care for their coach.”

“I don’t know many people who do. He wasn’t all that happy when we beat them. They have a good team but I expect they’re gonna have a tough time against Honobia. I hear those guys are huge.”

“I expect Honobia will win,” Jimbo added, speaking in a thundering tone. “That’s one tough group of boys. I haven’t seen many teams play defense like they do. We watched some film this week and were really impressed.”

Cole nodded, realizing Jimbo just admitted something without intending to do so. By watching film of Honobia instead of concentrating solely on this game like the Panthers had, he was already looking ahead.

That was something Cole never did unless he knew an opponent was not capable of beating the Panthers. That was the message Cole received, even though Albion’s coach did not realize it.

Cole wished Jimbo good luck and bid him farewell. The Panthers were getting dressed now and coming out on the field, glad to be out of the locker room. It was a joke, not big enough for half the team. It made everybody feel like a bunch of sardines in a can.

Lucky was quiet while dressing, his focus entirely on the game. The other players seemed to be in the same state of mind. The conversation was at a minimum and the laughter and joking was missing.

They heard the Albion players in the locker room next door, laughing and having a good time. That offended the Panthers and made them even more determined.

Cole thought his team looked sharp as they went through the pre-game drills. The tension was building and about to boil over. The Panthers were ready to hit somebody.

Just before the game was ready to start, Cole gathered his team around him.

“I’ve asked you guys not to be afraid of succeeding all year,” he said. “We’ve come a long way and achieved some great things. But I’m not satisfied and I don’t believe you are either.

“While I’ve coached at Petros, many of our teams have had the chips stacked against them, but they came through. You know and I know we’re playing a very good team tonight. We know how fast they are and how much talent they have. But we have something a lot more important than anything they could put out on the field and that’s heart.”

Cole was growing more intense the longer he talked. The blood veins in his neck and forehead were starting to pop out. Cole looked like he wanted to be out on the field with his players, hitting anything that moved.

“They can have the speed,” he added. “Because we have more heart and want it worse. You guys have been knocked to the ground but you didn’t give up and lie there. You got right back up and came back fighting. That’s not something anybody can teach you or I can give you. You either have it or you don’t. You guys have it. That’s something deep inside you and that’s why we’ll win this game tonight.”

The players looked around at each other, surprised to hear their coach say this.

“Somehow and someway we’ll figure out a way to win this game,” Cole continued. “Those guys don’t respect you. They see those three losses and don’t realize that was early in the year against some excellent competition. They think we’re nothing more than a speed bump.

“While we were talking, their coach said they watched film of the team they expect to play next week. You can hear their players laughing and hollering next door, having a good time. I want you guys to have a good time, too, and I can think of nothing that would make me happier than at the end of this game, to look up at the scoreboard and see we have more points than they do.”

Cole was intense and it was carrying over to his players. They looked like they were ready to tear down the walls to get out on the field and hit something.

“I want you to hit them like they’ve never been hit before!” Cole stated, loud enough he could probably be heard next door. “Show them what Petros Panthers football is all about. Let them know what kind of heart and character you have. The people don’t remember games like we had last week. They remember games like this, when we beat a team we’re not supposed to beat. This is it, guys. Give everything you’ve got and then some. It’s time to kick their rears and take names. Let’s give our people something to remember!”

The players all whooped and hollered. They were ready to play even before their coach talked to them. Now, they were beyond ready, willing to do whatever it took to win.

Lloyd opened the door and the players flew through it. They ran to the end zone and formed a huge circle with everybody pounding each other and jumping up and down. The spirit line was long, stretching well past midfield. The band played the school song and the players sprinted out on the field, breaking through the banner asking them to “De-horn the Antlers”.

The cheerleaders had to run a little faster than normal to keep from getting trampled by the players.

Petros wore its road uniforms of white helmets and shirts, with black numbers and pants. On the back of their shirts was the last name, a special touch for the game.

Derwin had won the coin toss and the Panthers deferred to the second half.

The kicking team gathered in front of the coaches. All week, Jeremy had been working on kicking a deep-onside kick, one that should go high and short, hopefully coming down at about the same time the coverage arrived, keeping the ball away from the real speed waiting deeper down the field.

“Go hit somebody!” Cole shouted and sent his team out on the field.

The officials made sure everybody was lined up and the clock was set. Seeing everything was in order, the referee signaled to start the game.

Jeremy slowly advanced toward the ball. He hit it just right, sending the ball down the field on a high arc, going end-over-end. It came down at the Albion 28 in the hands of one of the tight ends. He advanced to the 30 before Harry streaked in and flattened him.

The helmet came flying off of the Albion player and rolled backward, causing a huge celebration by the Panthers over the hit.

The emotion was so high it was impossible not to feel it.

The officials called a penalty on the play for holding, moving the Antlers back to their own 18. The tight end who got leveled was okay, just a little shaken up as he made his way slowly to the sidelines.

Albion came to the line in a Pro-I formation with the split end wide to the right. Petros’ linebackers and defensive backs played deeper than normal to try and prevent big plays because of the Antlers’ speed.

The first play was a simple handoff to the fullback. Ronnie Jones tossed his blocker aside and grabbed the running back and threw him to the ground, a yard short of the line.

Albion tried another running play on second down, a blast to the tailback. He made it to the line, but found no place to go. The Panthers swarmed all over him. Sam Roberts stood the running back up, just in time for Tim Treadway and Harry to hit him with hard shots.

The Antlers usually passed on third-and-long. Ichabod expected a draw, however, and told his players to watch out for it. He hit it. The quarterback dropped back and handed off to the tailback on a draw. He made it two steps before Derwin just demolished him, hitting him so hard the tailback crumpled to the ground.

Amidst all the celebration on the sideline, Lloyd grabbed his father and shouted at him.

“Let’s go after it!” Lloyd shouted.

“We are,” Cole agreed, relaying the call.

The Panthers had ten people on the line ready to go after the kick. The snap was perfect and the Antlers got enough blocking to barely get the punt away.

It was a beauty, a long spiral that flew through the cold November air.

Kenneth was back waiting on the punt. He hated to call a fair catch but knew there was no chance on this one as the punt was so high several Albion players were already on top of him.

He stuck up an arm for the fair catch and hauled the ball in. The sides switched and Petros’ offense took the field. It didn’t take long to figure out everything they heard about Albion’s speed was true.

It didn’t matter which play they ran, there were always a couple of Antlers waiting and others coming.

The Panthers only picked up four yards on the three plays and were forced to punt. Jeremy’s kick was angled away from the returner, coming to a stop near the sideline at the Albion 31.

The Antlers tried to test Petros by going with a sweep to the wide side. Murray played it just like he was coached, sprinting up the field and forcing the running back to cut back.

There were two Panthers waiting and he got smacked again, the popping of the pads loud enough it was heard over the radio.

Cole knew what was coming next. He jogged down the field and reached Ichabod.

“Option, this side,” he stated.

“That’s what I was expecting,” Ichabod answered.

Ichabod called the defense and leaned over, putting his hands on his knees. This was really stressful, trying to defend such an explosive offense. He knew on any play, the Antlers could score, even if Petros defended the play properly.

It was again the perfect call by Petros’ coaches. The Panthers were ready for the option and ate it up, the line penetrated, disrupted the play and brought the quarterback down right after he faked to the fullback, never getting a chance to pitch the ball to the tailback.

The Antlers faced another third-and-long. Cole could tell Albion’s players weren’t expecting this. They were used to already being ahead by at least one touchdown at this point, not having their offense struggle just to get back to the line.

Ichabod called a blitz, sending seven guys after the quarterback. There were simply more guys coming than there were blockers. Albion’s quarterback figured this out and tried to scramble, but was pinned in and sandwiched between Derwin and Ronnie.

It was the kind of defensive effort Cole had hoped to see. He would never say so, but this was the way Cole expected his defense to play all year, not the group that had trouble stopping several opponents.

Cole sent them after the punt again. Skip almost got it, getting close enough to feel the ball go by his fingers.

This punt was not a beauty, looking like the punts the coaches saw on film.

Kenneth caught the ball going full speed. Just when it looked like he had a seam, one of the Antlers came out of nowhere and cut his legs out from under him.

He tried to get up but his legs would not support him, sending him crashing back to the ground.

Cole came out to check on Kenneth, who was holding his left leg, in a lot of pain.

Doc Hardy was right behind Cole. They quickly decided it was not the same problem that bothered him earlier in the season, but appeared to be his hip.

The doctor decided the likely culprit was a hip pointer, a painful injury that would put him on the sidelines for at least the rest of this game.

Cole quickly decided on what to do, calling for Happy to replace Kenneth. He wanted to see what would happen with Happy hammering at them and then go with Seth if that did not work.

When told to go in, Happy sprinted to the huddle. Cole decided to test Happy by calling a power play to him.

Happy followed Skip into the hole. Two Albion players filled the hole so Happy lowered his head and plowed into them, picking up four yards and the first positive yardage of the game for the Panthers.

A simple dive on the next play picked up another four yards, giving Petros short yardage on third down.

Skip was given the honors on a crossbuck. Lucky made a good fake to Happy before handing the ball to Skip.

He split the line, spun as he was hit and cut outside. Skip had a little lead and good speed, but was quickly chased down after picking up the first down.

It was the initial first down of the game, drawing a round of applause from the Petros faithful.

On the next play, Lucky faked a dive to Skip and followed in behind. There was a small gap and he slipped through, gaining five yards.

Cole wanted to use the option but was leery because of Albion’s speed. He gave it some thought and decided to try it, doubting Albion had seen it much this year. Cole knew it wouldn’t work many times, just hoped it would this time.

Lucky took the snap and put the ball in Happy’s belly, reading the defense. Seeing that Happy was covered, he pulled the ball out and went down the line. Albion’s defense blew it as too many defenders went after Happy. There was only one cornerback outside to try and cover two players and he chose the quarterback.

The read was perfect, waiting until the last second to pitch the ball. Skip grabbed the ball going full tilt. He had some room and was off, picking up twenty yards before getting knocked out of bounds.

Happy blasted away for five more yards on the next play, using his usual running style. Cole called the play again and Happy pounded away, breaking several tackles before bursting into the secondary. A safety was waiting on him and Happy lowered his head and plowed over Albion’s defensive back.

Happy was not blessed with great speed, only a little faster than many linemen, but it was not a pleasant experience to tackle him. The defenders discovered it was much like trying to tackle a moving fire hydrant.

The Antlers finally ran him down at the eight. Petros’ crowd was roaring. The Panthers tried not to get too excited, but found that hard.

Happy got the call again and barreled into the line, pushing the pile back until he was stopped at the three.

Cole sent Seth in and the Panthers came out in the T-formation. Everybody expected Happy to get the carry again, but Cole fooled them. Lucky faked the handoff to Happy, then gave it to Skip on a crossbuck. He was hit at the one, but spun away from the defender and dove into the end zone for the first score of the game.

The Panthers celebrated like they just won the game, surrounding Skip and hugging him while the band played the school song. The Antlers were shocked, the first time all year they were behind in a game.

Jeremy’s kick was good and Petros led, 7-0.

After the kick, Petros’ defense was outstanding again, holding the Antlers to three and out. Albion tried to get outside twice but the Panthers played it perfect, stretching the play to the sidelines.

The Panthers came close to blocking a punt on the last play of the quarter, forcing the punter to hurry his kick.

Cole sent the Panthers back out in the T-formation to pound away at the Antlers.

That was exactly what they did, picking up three or four yards every play and driving the ball right down the field against the stunned defense.

A motion penalty and incomplete pass by Lucky ended the drive at Albion’s 21.

It was fourth and eleven. Cole wanted to go for it but knew the chances were slim. It would be a tough one for Jeremy to make so Cole pulled his son aside.

“Can you kick it from there?” Cole asked.

Lucky added up the yardage and smiled at his father.

“No problemo,” he answered.

Cole decided to try it and relayed the instructions. The snap was good, as was the hold. Lucky knew he drilled it as soon as his foot made contact with the ball.

It would have been good from ten yards farther easily. His teammates started celebrating while the ball was in the air, knowing the kick was good.

The Panthers now had a surprising 10-0 lead over the favored Antlers. During a lull before the kickoff, the announcer gave a score. In the first quarter, Honobia led Summerfield, 21-0.

“Man, those guys must be good,” Ichabod commented.

“Ask Jimbo about them,” Cole stated. “I think he spent more time getting ready for them than he did us.”

Albion’s offense showed the first signs of frustration on the following drive, looking toward the sidelines after plays and barking at each other. The backs were not happy with the blocking and the line was not happy with the backs missing holes nobody else saw.

The Antlers only picked up five yards and had to punt again. It was a beautiful kick this time, coming down inside Petros’ 20.

“That guy’s got a leg when he has time,” Stub commented.

“Two of them, actually,” Lloyd added, drawing a dirty look from Stub, who was used to delivering lines like that, not receiving them.

The Panthers’ offense continued to roll down the field. They struggled to get outside so they mainly concentrated on running between the tackles, where Petros’ line was dominating play.

The line was starting to really take control as the holes kept getting a little larger as the Antlers started to tire.

The drive took twelve plays and lasted over seven minutes. It was time that kept Albion’s explosive offense off the field. Happy looked like an all-state running back, not like a sophomore who had seen little action in the backfield.

Albion’s defenders were tired of getting punished by him and were now coming after him hard. But they usually discovered the collision was worse for them than it was for Happy. The harder they hit him, the harder he seemed to run.

It was turning into a brutal game with both teams hitting with everything they had, trying to land a knockout.

Happy just kept plugging away, pounding away as Petros reached the Albion 11.

Cole called on Happy once more. He blasted into the line, lowered his head as one of the linebackers slammed into him, as did the safety on that side. It was another big collision, causing people on the sidelines to cringe.

When the pile started to rise, one player was still on the ground. This time, Happy did not get up. He was knocked out cold, not moving a muscle. The coaches and Doc Hardy came out on the field and worked on him for several minutes.

The fans on both sides were silent, many of them saying silent prayers. Lucky had been amazed at the play of his friend and the pounding Happy had taken. When he saw his friend down, Lucky feared the worse and kneeled beside him, holding Happy’s hand.

The coaches placed smelling salts under his nose and it finally did the trick, bringing him back to a semi-conscious level.

“How you doing, Happy?” Lucky asked.

Happy mumbled something and tried to sit up.

“Where are you?” the doctor asked.

Happy looked around, the confusion evident.

“Heck if I know,” he answered, removing his helmet. “My head hurts.”

Stub and Doc Hardy helped him to his feet and escorted him to the sidelines. Both sides clapped as Happy walked slowly off the field.

He made it to the sidelines and sat down on the bench and buried his head in his hands. Happy’s parents came out of the bleachers and stood behind him.

“Are you okay?” his mother asked.

Happy raised up and looked at her.

“I’ll live,” he answered. “Who are you?”

“I’m your mother,” she replied, a look of horror on her face. Her baby had forgotten who his mother was!

Happy nodded then looked at his father.

“You my father?”

His father nodded, then looked at the doctor.

“Who am I?” Happy asked.

The doctor told him and sat down beside him, waiting for Happy’s head to clear.

Out on the field, the injury slowed the momentum. Cole considered putting Derwin in at fullback, but wanted to keep him fresh for defense.

The Panthers came out in a split back with Skip and Seth at running back. The defense was keying on Skip so Seth got the call.

He got outside somehow, cut back through a hole and sprinted toward the end zone. The Panthers started to celebrate, expecting another touchdown.

But just before Seth crossed into the end zone, an Albion cornerback dove at him, his helmet hitting directly on the ball. Seth shook off the tackle and continued on, crossing the goal-line. The only problem was he no longer had the ball.

He stopped and looked behind him, seeing the ball loose at the three. Two Albion players gathered up the ball before any Panthers arrived.

Seth fell to his knees in the end zone, the disbelief swarming over him while watching the Antlers celebrate for the first time in the game. For Seth, this was a horrible feeling, knowing he let his team down.

If he could find one, Seth would have liked to crawl into a hole to escape the wrath of his teammates. If you were a Petros Panther, you didn’t fumble the football, especially when you were about to score a touchdown in the state quarterfinals against one of the best teams in the state.

Seth looked up to see his teammates approach him. He feared the worst.

Skip and Murray were the first to arrive.

Murray leaned down beside him.

“You okay?” he asked.

Seth nodded as Murray and Skip helped him up as the other players gathered around.

“I’m sorry,” Seth said, knowing the tears were coming and having no power to stop them.

“Shake it off,” Skip ordered. “Those things happen.”

They don’t to you, Seth wanted to argue but couldn’t.

“They just got lucky,” Danny Wall added.

All his teammates encouraged him, but he did not feel too encouraged at the moment. Seth knew they had to resent his error and the coaches would let him know about it. This was the second time this year he fumbled in a situation like this and knew how bad this hurt his team.

Cole was waiting for him near the sidelines.

“I’m sorry,” Seth stated, hoping his coach did not see him crying on a football field. Football players are supposed to be tough, not cry. And Seth Cummings wanted to be a football player for the Petros Panthers more than anything.

But he had failed his team, and his coaches.

Cole put his arm around Seth and hugged him.

“Those things happen,” Cole declared. “You were doing everything right. It was just a fluke deal. If you’d been holding the ball out and taunting the other team, yeah, I’d be mad. But you were doing everything right. You’ve gotta put it behind you cause we all need you.”

Seth looked up in shock.

“You mean I get to go back in?” Seth asked.

“The rest of the game,” Cole answered, wanting to add that Seth was about the only other running back the Panthers had, but not wanting this to sound like that was the only reason he was playing.

Cole knew it wasn’t his fault and felt sorry for Seth, one of the best kids on the team and a player who deserved that score.

He patted Seth one last time, all the time hoping the fumble did not come back to hurt. There was a big difference between a ten-point lead and a seventeen-point lead.

There wasn’t much time left before halftime. But there was no doubt the momentum had switched sides.

Albion ran two plays and the half ended. All the Petros players sprinted to the tiny locker room as the fans gave them a good sendoff.

Cole was pleased overall, thrilled with the play of the defense. He just wished the Panthers had pushed in that last touchdown to go ahead by three scores.

But he also knew that fumble gave Albion new life. Cole knew how dangerous that was against a team like the Antlers.

Petros had the Antlers down, ready to deliver a knockout punch and that fluke play happened.

Cole did not see any disappointment or worry with his players. After all, they pretty much dominated the first half and did not see any reason why the second half would be any different.

Only one player seemed worried and that was Lucky. He kept reminding everybody they had to keep their heads in the game and pound away at the Antlers.

Cole did not want to put anything negative in his players’ minds, but had to get their attention.

‘That was a good half, but only a half,” he advised. “You guys are acting like the game is over. We still need to play just as hard as we did the first half.

“All we’ve done so far is throw the first punch. We caught them off-guard and got a lead but I guarantee you they’re awake now and ready to fight back. They were overlooking us, all ready to play Honobia.”

Cole started pacing in his little area, looking at the faces of his players, trying to reach them.

“I can assure you Albion will come out this half and play like there’s no tomorrow. They’re ready to give up. We just gotta give them a reason.”

He turned it over to Stub and Ichabod, not really wanting to make any changes.

It was as good of a first half defensively as Cole had seen his teams play in years, especially considering how good Albion was on offense. He tried remembering the last time one of his teams had shut down such an explosive team like this, but could not remember it.

He waited until the assistants talked to the players then gathered around Ichabod, Stub and Lloyd to talk some more about the second half. None of them seem too worried, so that did give Cole a little relief.

The Panthers would get the ball to start the second half. Cole checked on Happy, but Doc Hardy said there was no way he could go.

That would hurt, but Cole had a lot of faith in the other players to pick up the slack.

As the players got ready to leave the locker room, Seth walked around to all the players, apologizing for the fumble, promising to make up for it and not let it happen again.

The Panthers had caught Albion off guard during the first half. That would not happen again.

Chapter 49

Chapter 47

2005-10-19T04:59:00.000-07:00

Cole actually slept in thirty minutes later than normal the following morning, not that he minded. His body needed the extra rest.

He hadn’t gotten home until almost midnight the night before, later than Lucky was allowed to stay out. Cole wished Lloyd still had a curfew, but knew that was useless. If he pushed his oldest son hard enough, Lloyd would just move out.

All the way home, he expected the boys to be waiting for him and grill him good.

Lloyd was still out and Lucky was asleep in the family room with the television on a football game from the Pac-10. He covered Lucky with a blanket and made it safely into the bedroom without getting the expected interrogation.

He read his Bible and then tossed and turned for another hour, so excited sleep would not come. It had been many a year since Cole Lester felt so alive.

Lucky was the first one of the boys to wake up that Sunday morning, as usual. The boy just couldn’t stay awake late or sleep in very long in the morning. Sometime during the night, he made his way into his bed and went back to sleep.

When Lucky made it into the family room, he found his father sitting in his chair, reading the Bible, just like every other morning.

The Tulsa newspaper was on the couch, waiting for him. Lucky bypassed the first few sections until he found the sports.

He had been up late enough the previous night to get most of the important stuff. But college basketball was starting and he wanted to check up on the stories and scores. Lucky also wanted to read the stories about the high-school playoffs and see which teams won.

Lucky saw most of the favorites won and there weren’t many upsets. There were only sixteen teams left in the Class 2A playoffs going into the quarterfinals and for the first time in a few years, one of those teams was Petros.

He saw Summerfield won in another blowout, setting up a game against Honobia, a team ranked second and picked by many to be the best in the eastern part of the state.

Lucky noted that Anson, the top-ranked Class 2A team again, also won easily. All the writers were saying Anson would win another state championship with ease, or at least get to the finals and meet Honobia, although Lucky certainly hoped that wasn’t the case.

There were too many good teams left.

He saw a story on the Summerfield game. Lucky laughed as he saw several players were quoted as saying they wanted to keep winning and get revenge on Petros.

Lucky doubted that would happen, of course. It would be tough enough for the Panthers to beat Albion. Plus, he doubted Summerfield would beat Honobia.

He finished up the sports and waited for his father to finish reading. Naturally, Lucky wanted all the details from the date, before Lloyd could get up, if possible.

But just before he got the scoop, Lloyd came strolling into the family room, wearing only a pair of baggy boxers that nearly reached his knees. Lucky and Cole were already dressed for church. Lloyd appeared to have had a rough night.

“Good morning,” Cole said.

“Good morning,” Lucky responded, wishing his brother had slept longer.

“Did you get lucky?” Lloyd asked.

“What?” Lucky responded.

“Not you,” Lloyd stated. “I meant did Dad get lucky? On his date, nothing to do with you.”

“Did I what?” Cole asked, wishing his oldest son would not be so crass.

“Well, did you?”

Cole actually felt lucky to just go on a date. He had a great time and it seemed like the doctor had also.

“Surely you’re not asking your father if he was anything but a perfect gentleman?” Cole remarked.

“Yeah, but not just you,” Lloyd responded. “The doc might have gotten a little frisky.”

“You think so?” Cole asked. “Why don’t you ask her. She’s back in my bedroom listening to everything you’re saying.”

The two boys looked like they just won a million dollars. The look on their faces was priceless. Cole knew he shouldn’t have said it, but the look on their faces was worth it. Lucky looked a little disturbed, kept turning to look down the hallway to make sure no female was walking around.

Lloyd jerked forward on the couch, his mouth hanging so low Cole hoped his chin wouldn’t hit the floor.

“Are you serious?” Lloyd asked.

“Naw, it was just a joke,” Cole replied. “But you should’ve seen your faces.”

“That was a good one,” Lloyd added. “So she didn’t teach you how to play doctor?”

“You know, I’d think that after all these years that you’d know I’m not that type of person,” Cole responded. “That’s not what I believe in. Neither does Sarah.”

“Who?”

“The doctor,” Lucky answered.

Lloyd finally decided to put aside the teasing and find out what really happened.

“Tell us about it,” he pleaded.

Cole did, telling his boys about the night.

“First off, we went to the Western Sizzlin’…”

“Dad, you really didn’t take her to the Sizzlin’, did you?” Lloyd asked.

“Yeah, it was good.”

“You gotta know that impressed her,” Lucky commented.

Cole did not pay any attention to the boys. He went on with his story, telling how they finished up their meal and drove around the fancy part of Fort Smith, mainly in Fianna Hills, looking at the lights.

“Did you drive the beast?” Lloyd asked, referring to his father’s old truck. It had seen better days. Cole knew that, but was still a good, dependable truck. It just didn’t look all that great. Lloyd had been after him for the last five years to trade it in for something newer but Cole just didn’t see any reason to do so. Plus, he was too cheap.

“Of course,” Cole answered.

“I’m sure that won you some points,” Lloyd added.

“She didn’t seem to mind.”

“She was probably just being nice,” Lucky commented.

“Yeah, just wait until you try to get her to go out again,” Lloyd stated. “I see now why you didn’t get lucky.”

Cole ignored his two sons and told about driving around, looking at the houses.

“Did you see any of the bums downtown?” Lloyd asked, settling for this question. He really wanted to ask if they saw any professional women standing on street corners but knew that would push it.

“No, were you there?” Cole asked, getting a giggle out of Lucky. His oldest son did not come by his wit without a little help from his father. Cole could still bring it when necessary.

Lucky was enjoying this greatly. It seemed like old times with his father and brother ragging on each other, neither one pushing it far enough for the other to get angry.

He was really happy for his father. It had been a long time and Lucky knew his father had sacrificed a great deal over the years for him and his brother, along with the teams at Petros.

Lucky just hoped his father wouldn’t get hurt. Members of the Lester family and females did not seen to have the greatest luck together. He was still seeing Gabby and everything was good, but he remembered what happened with Toni and how she put him in the dumpster.

Plus, Lloyd seemed to have a different girlfriend every week. He never had trouble getting a date. Lloyd just had trouble keeping the same date. Most of that was his fault because he was looking for perfection and never found it. He also had little patience with women. As soon as they did something that got on his nerves, Lloyd performed his vanishing trick.

Cole was not exactly used to playing the “Dating Game”, either.

Their father finished the story by telling about stopping to get some hot chocolate.

“I made sure she got extra marshmallows,” Cole bragged proudly.

“Good for you!” Lloyd complimented. “I never realized what a romantic you truly are.”

Cole finished by telling them he dropped her off at her house in Hodgen.

“Did you kiss her?” Lucky asked, causing Lloyd to laugh.

“That’s on a need-to-know basis,” Cole responded, smiling at his youngest son.

“That means he struck out,” Lloyd ventured. “Did you get in her house?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Did she ask you in?” Lloyd asked.

“Yeah, but I felt like it was too late.”

Lloyd buried his head in his hands and groaned.

“Sometimes I find it hard to believe I came from you,” he moaned. “She might’ve been feeling a little frisky!”

“It was his first date,” Lucky argued.

“So?” Lloyd asked. “It never stopped me.”

“That’s why you don’t have a lot of second dates,” Cole pointed out.

“Most people don’t do stuff like that on a first date,” Lucky remarked, like he was an expert on the subject.

Cole knew there was fixing to be an argument so he headed back to the kitchen to see if they had any food for breakfast. Lloyd ate like a cow and since he moved back in, it was almost impossible to keep any food.

He saw there was enough to make eggs and bacon. He started cooking as the boys argued about Lloyd needing to get his life straightened out. They lost interest in arguing after a few minutes and started talking about sports, with the bacon sizzling in the background.

“Hey Dad, you never told us if you kissed her,” Lloyd reminded.

“No, I didn’t,” he agreed.

“Didn’t tell us or didn’t kiss her?”

“I didn’t either…she kissed me.”

----------

Pastor Sam Furman spent a good ten minutes of the service that Sunday morning bragging on the football team and trying to get everybody to go to Friday’s game at Albion.

Not that it was necessary. Most people already had plans to go and wouldn’t miss it for anything other than a bad illness or death.

Lucky sat with Gabby and Andy on the first row. He always liked to be as close as possible. Lucky knew it was strange, but he always seemed to get more out of the service by being closer.

As far as Lucky was concerned, the pastor was a good preacher, when he got away from football. The pastor always said his three favorite things now were Jesus, his family and Petros football.

Some people would argue the last two items were not in the correct order.

It was a good sermon, as usual. Pastor Furman preached about how one person could make a big difference, talked about Nehemiah, and challenged everybody to be a person who makes a difference.

Lucky always felt such a comforting presence in church. Unlike most people his age, Lucky was not forced to go to church, never had been. He chose to go, loved to visit God’s house and feel the comfort that washed away anything bothering him.

He sat on the aisle. Gabby was next to him, then Andy. Gabby and Andy had been going to different churches until she and Lucky started seeing each other.

Lucky felt her next to him and it made his tummy tingle. He loved to just be near her and smell her. Lucky had no idea what kind of perfume she wore, just knew it smelled great.

He also liked the way she moved closer, trying to get their bodies together. Lucky had been surprised when his father invited the three of them to go out and eat. In the football season, Cole usually went home after church and worked out a schedule for the week’s practice and watched film.

Andy had to go home and help his father clean out the garage, but Gabby agreed.

They went to Cole’s favorite restaurant, the Western Sizzlin’ in Hodgen, which did not surprise Lucky. He wasn’t sure if his father liked the place because of the quality of the food, or the quantity since it had an all-you-could-throw buffet.

Lucky was afraid his father would do something silly to embarrass him. But Cole was the perfect gentleman. He prayed over the food and talked with them and had a great time. Lucky sat back and watched his father, never remembering him in such a good mood.

His father was always kind and treated people with respect, but Cole smiled and joked with people he knew, acting almost like a salesman.

Cole even had dessert, a rarity for him. It was strawberries on a piece of pound cake with a lot of whipped cream on top. He couldn’t figure out how to make the can of whipped cream work so Gabby was enlisted to help.

He pounced on the food, quickly getting some of the whipped cream on the tip of his nose. When Gabby noticed, she couldn’t keep from laughing.

Outside, it was a cold, damp day, the kind best suited for staying inside a warm house. Gabby invited Lucky over to watch some football, since she had figured out that was the best way to get him over on a weekend afternoon.

After he got through in the garage, Andy joined them and they played cards for most of the afternoon. Lucky stayed until it was time to go to the evening service. Gabby couldn’t go because she had tons of homework and a test the next day.

Lucky barely kept his eyes open during the evening service, the long weekend finally catching up to him. It was a great relief when his head hit the pillow, an hour earlier than usual.

----------

Cole spent more hours than normal that week watching film of Albion, looking for any kind of weakness. He quickly figured out where the Antlers were not the strongest, but they could certainly not be classified as weak.

None of the coaches who played Albion gave any information that helped. The best advice he heard was to pray for rain. Because that was the only way anybody could stop the Antlers.

Cole felt good about his defense, especially the secondary, although he knew those guys would get a huge test.

With Skip, Gary, Lucky and Kenneth, this group was starting to play as well as any secondary Cole had coached.

Cole was overjoyed with how well practices went that week. The Panthers looked great, playing better than they had all year. This was important since Cole knew the Panthers would have to play this way to have a chance to win the game against a very good team.

Naturally, nobody gave Petros a chance to win. Of course, most of the “experts” had never seen either team play, so that carried little weight with Cole.

All week, everybody Cole talked with only wanted to talk about the game. Not that he cared. Cole was excited, feeling like something good was going to happen.

One of the benefits of getting into the playoffs and advancing was the extra practice the younger players received. Cole saw lots of improvement from them and expected this to be a great benefit the following year.

Seth and Happy were two of the sophomores who kept catching Cole’s eyes. He could look ahead in two years and see a backfield with Seth and D.J. at running backs with Happy coming in on short-yardage situations and at the goal-line.

These guys, along with Lucky, would give the Panthers a chance to have a great backfield.

The excitement continued building throughout the week. Everybody was anxious for the game. All the businesses downtown and along the highway showed their support, putting messages on their signs and painting the windows to support the Panthers.

Most of the cars also had shoe polish messages on the window. With both Petros and Hodgen this far into the playoffs, the other county schools threw in their support.

Cole tried to treat it like it was another ballgame but the players did not buy it. There were pep rallies almost every night and socials to get everybody together.

It was amazing to watch. Once again, Cole could not believe the support his boys received. That was one thing he really loved about Petros. The community supported its teams with great passion. It was that way even when they struggled, but not as strong.

School let out early Friday for another pep rally. The old gym was filled to its rafters and hundreds of people stood outside, hearing the sounds and wishing they arrived sooner.

Lucky felt good, the best he had since midway through the season. This was partly due to playing so little last week and also because his body was healing, something it definitely needed. With Albion this week, and if the Panthers continued to win, either Honobia or Summerfield the following week, he needed to be close to a hundred percent. Plus, if Petros won those two games, a likely battle against Anson in the state finals would be the reward.

He knew his body would take a beating in those games and needed the recuperation time.

The buses filled up just after three for the long trip down the two-lane roads to Albion. Cole did not care for bus rides, especially the ones that carried him over and through the big mountains in southeastern Oklahoma, like this trip.

The players all brought sack lunches with them to eat as a pre-game meal. Many also brought pillows to hopefully sleep away much of the trip.

Everybody got to stretch their legs and use the restroom halfway through the trip, stopping at a convenience store high in the mountains. Lucky walked over to a lookout point and admired the scenery. It was truly a beautiful day, the only problem was it was cold and getting colder. Everybody had hoped for bad weather, aside from Lucky. He did not want Albion to have any excuses if Petros won. Plus, it would also harm the Panthers, since their backs would slip and slide just as much.

“This sure is pretty,” Cole remarked. He had slipped in beside his son to take in the scenery, the only people in the two buses to look at the sights.

“God is a great artist,” Lucky commented.

The two stood there for several minutes, neither saying a word as the other players went about their business. They did not see the need to come view this majestic sight. Down below, there was a large pond barely visible through the pine trees Lucky never saw before, despite stopping several times at this store. He wondered how hard it would be to get there, knowing the slope and undergrowth would make it a booger.

The bears, mountain lions, snakes, ticks and other things he might encounter made the trip even less appealing.

Cole put his arm around his son’s shoulder, a move that surprised Lucky, but also made him feel good.

He looked up at the man who raised him, who sacrificed so much and never asked for or expected anything in returned. Lucky felt a love for this man that was beyond the grasp of the universe. As he stood there, looking into his father’s face, there was not the least bit of worry about the other guys seeing him and ragging him about getting hugged.

Not that he cared. Lucky decided somehow he would give his father the one gift to never come his way: a state championship, something Cole always dreamed of but had yet to grasp.

Lucky hoped it would be this year, but if it wasn’t, sometime over the next two years, his father would receive a gold ball.

“I love you, Dad,” he stated, the first time those words were spoken in way too long.

Cole squeezed a little harder. He had not been expecting that and found it hard to reply.

“I love you too, Lynn,” Cole managed to say.

They stood overlooking the vista a little longer, both wishing this could last much longer.

“We better get going,” Cole remarked.

“We’re gonna win this game,” Lucky mentioned, a comment that came out of nowhere.

“I think we are, too.”

“Don’t think it, Dad. Know it, because it’s gonna happen.”

Chapter 48