I’m too amped up to sit down, so I stand next to Coach.
“You’re playing great, Nick,” he tells me when he sees me out of his peripheral vision.
“Save the compliments for after the win, Coach.” That’s the kind of shit he always tells us.
He chuckles, nods, and pats my back. “You’ve learned well, Padawan. I think you’re ready to graduate to Jedi.”
It’s my turn to laugh. Coach and his Star Wars references.
The whistle blows, but our D-line stops them in their tracks. On the next play, LSU loses five yards. But on the third snap, their QB throws a forty-five-yard pass that’s taken in for a touchdown.
Damn. But with two thirty remaining, there’s still time. After they make the extra point, it’s forty-one to thirty-four.
After the punt return, we have the ball on the LSU twenty-yard line. Our O-line surrounds Coach as he covers his mouth with his clipboard and yells out the play.
On the first down, we get eight yards. Then five more on the next. When we huddle, I call the play, then look at my teammates. “Do you know what I see when I look at you guys?”
“What?” Jinxy shouts.
“The best college football team in the country. Now let’s get out there and win.”
I can see it in their eyes. They think we can do it.
I know we can.
There’s thirty seconds on the clock at the snap. I drop into the pocket and fake a pass to Jinxy, who cradles air and makes like he’s headed down the right side of the field. That’s when I throw over traffic and aim for Dax deep in the end zone.
I watch it arch over him. He has two guys on his ass, but he snatches that ball out of the sky and nails that touchdown.
Hell yes!
Now we’re down by one point with fifteen seconds on the clock.
Coach calls a timeout. It’s our last one. LSU has two more. Coach taps on his clipboard. “We’re going for the two-point conversion. Just like we practiced. You can do this in your sleep.”
I turn to the guys. “It’s time to break some hearts, gentlemen.”
We pile our hands in the middle and shout, “Broncos!”
But when we line up, the Tigers call a timeout, obviously to adjust now that we’ve shown our cards. Coach switches a few people around too, and we head back out.
On a two-point conversion, we line up at the three-yard line. It’s only three yards, Silva. This is a walk in the park.
The ball snaps, and I drop back one step before I throw a pass to Maverick, who hangs on for a touchdown, but the refs blow the whistle.
“Prior to the snap, LSU called a timeout.”
Oh, fuck.
I gather my guys. “Don’t let that get to you. Great play, Mav. Let’s do it again. We just have to be a little more creative.” I make two adjustments, and we line up again.
But this time, when the ball snaps, I cradle it, and as I’m checking my options, I see the opening.
And I run.
It’s only three yards, I tell myself as I dodge a defender.
Two yards.
