Her Game Was Passion Ch. 04

B-Right-50 Trap

I faked a block on the tackle and started downfield. Hicks ran close to the trap block on an even line defense. Daniels missed the trap block. The. end knocked Hicks flat on his ass. Daniels came to huddle, holding his gut with one hand. His face was white.

"For Christ sake," Jackos said. "What the, hell. Can't you handle him?"

"Somebody slugged me," Daniels said, holding his guts.

"Blow it out," said Goose.

"Ribs?" Gleason said.

"I'll kill the cocksucker," said Daniels.

"You O.K.?" Jackos asked.

"If you're hurt, get out," I said.

"Piss on it," said Daniels. "I'll fix his ass."

"Come on, ,come on," said Jackos. "Third and eight."

"Let's go," said Hoss.

Their linebackers started to blitz. I thought Jackos ought to throw short. Let the receivers break their patterns and Jackos could hit the receivers for short gains. But I didn't say anything. Both outside linebackers blitzed. Jackos got dropped twice for a loss. I stayed back to block. Jackos overthrew Lennox in a man-to-man coverage. Jackos hadn't passed fast enough. Jackos' arm wasn't strong enough. His hands were slow. Hawk came in to punt. About thirty-five yards. I was standing next to Reeves.

"Why didn't you let me kick?" I said.

"Shut up," Reeves said.

Steele got hot, throwing short and long. Right down the field. Fifty yards. First down on our fifteen. Our defense blitzed. Both the left halfback and their fullback picked up the blitz by looking back fast on their swings. Steele unloaded fast and almost hit the fullback in the back of the head with the ball. But he caught it. Second and three. We started a seven-man rush. The fullback beat the defensive end on the swing and went into the end zone standing up. The conversion was good. The kick-return team looked slow going out onto the field. Maurice ran it back to the twenty-five. I went in.

Jackos called an audible signal for a four-yard hitch pass to the flanking spread end. Decatur immediately revolved to a zone defense. Jackos hit Schaeffer for twenty.

A right X 99

Jackos started to spring out. I was on a fan route. I caught the ball in the flat for nine yards. Then I got blind sided. Then a couple others hit me. They were all piled on me. Somebody was hissing.

"Kill you. Kill you. Kill you. Prick. Prick."

I pushed a hand off my face before I got a finger in the eye.

73-Quick Y-Hook

Lennox caught the ball, but it looked short of a first down. My side started to hurt. I couldn't remember being hit there. They measured and we were short by a foot. Decatur went into a five-two defense. Tough to run against, but Jackos handed off to me. I ran straight ahead. That's the safest route. Whoever saw Upton try to run wide? I was going to save a piece of myself for quarterbacking. Somebody clothes lined me and two monsters high-lowed me. I thought I was broken in half. I got up, heard the band. It sounded far away. Somebody put my helmet on my head.

"Jackos, you stupid bastard," I said. "Do you want to win this game or get me killed?"

"Fuck off," said Jackos.

"Run against a five-two!" I said. "Your brains are up your ass."

He knew I was right. Against a five-two, you throw to the strong side -- the side of the flanker and tight end. We walked over to the bench and Reeves came over.

"What in hell are you doing?" Reeves said to Jackos. "Running against that defense!"

"Short yardage."

"Short yardage, my ass. You all right, Scott?"

"Yeah."

"You dumb-dumb," Reeves said to Jackos. Sure, Jackos was trying to get me killed, but he'd cut his own throat with a few more calls like the last one.

Post came out with blood all over his face. Preston was holding his arm. Neiman looked as if somebody had punched him in the eye.

Steele started throwing again. We went into a zone defense. Steele started faking the running play and passing off the fake run. Ten, twelve, fourteen yards. They were flooding the zone, three fast receivers. Steele's pass protection was holding up. When you've got that, there's no such thing as a zone defense. Our linebackers were being forced to play close to the line of scrimmage. Steele was hooking passes between the cracks, slant passes to the end and flanker. Picking us apart. Then it went to his head. Steele threw long. You almost never should throw long against a zone defense. Sawyer picked it off. My side felt better as I got up from the bench.

I came back on the counter and took the ball from Jackos and went inside behind a cross block into the three hole. I saw Koch coming down the line to nail the linebacker coming across; I went to the outside and cut back against the traffic. I thought I was going to make it. I gave somebody a leg and took it away and then the roof fell in as somebody hit me from behind. Then I got piled. I got up hurting all over.

74-Out-X-Slant and Up

I slanted inside the spread end and went up and across and behind Lennox. Lennox was clear. Then I saw the ball coming. I got hit just as I reached for it. I walked past Jackos on the way off the field.

"You dummy," I said. "Lennox was open."

"You look good out there, Scott."

Hawk punted about fifty yards. Reeves came over to me.

"Why didn't you hang onto the ball?"

"Why didn't he throw to Lennox?" I said.

"That ball was right to you."

"I'm a quarterback."

"Take it easy," Reeves said. "You're not such a damn poor setback."

"If I live."

"You'll live."

"Not playing quarterback."

"You're getting paid."

"Rebellion prices."

Post took my arm and led me away.

"Reeves knows what he's doing," said Post. "You can count on that."

Steele was smart. More slant passes. Twelve yards. They carried Preston off on a stretcher. Out cold. Then a hook pass with the end running a deep pattern was good for sixteen. It burned the ass of the over-aggressive defender. Then the tight end went up on a center pass. He was fast, faked a good move to the outside, then went inside on a ninety-degree angle. He looked for the ball on the break. It wasn't there. Steele still had good protection. The end went on across the field, Steele hit him and he went all the way to the twenty before Neiman got him from behind. Then Steele lost his smarts. He tried running plays and lost eight yards. Hitch pass. Just a little five yard beauty, but the end was a real cutie. Good head and shoulder fake to the inside, then he pivoted to the outside, turned up the sideline and would have made it but he cut it too fine and stepped out of bounds. I looked at the clock. Better go for a field goal. But they were going to go touchdown. First a corner hook, dropped, then a hook and go. Intercepted by Steiner. I trotted out.

A Right X 94 Throwback

A quarterback should only run out of sheer fright. All I can say is the protection broke down. I looked back. Jackos was running. He was not exactly Bobby Wayne. I like to run only off the quarterback draw. Jackos was not that fast. Go straight, I thought, go straight. The dumb-dumb was moving to the outside. Jackos the gazelle. He turned up-field. Three of them had the angle on him. Run for the sideline, dumb-dumb. He headed for the sideline but just as he stepped out of bounds, the three hit him. They got up but Jackos didn't move. I walked over to him. He was out cold, face down. The trainer jogged across the field. He turned Jackos over. They put Jackos on a stretcher. I looked over at Reeves and walked over to the bench.

"I want you to give it all you've got, Scott," he said. "You got to move this team. I want you to move it. You can do it. How you feeling?"

"I'm all warmed up." I walked away.

"Let's move that ball!" Reeves yelled.

Fred Hill, a setback, first year out of a small Southern college, came running out to replace me.

Wing-right with a double flex.

Hill made six yards on a slant. Seven-man zone defense. Make the defenders desert their zones. Five-man pass pattern. I hit Lennox for twelve on the spread side. I felt happy. The air and grass smelled good again. I could hear the shouting now in the stands. I hit the spread end for thirteen with a sideline pass. Christ, we were really moving.

In the huddle, I said, "Anybody spotted a dog?"

"The right corner linebacker is slow," said Neiman.

The gun sounded and we all took off for the dressing room.

-three-

I leaned back against the locker-room wall and slid slowly down to the floor. I felt too beaten up even to get a drink.

"How slow is that linebacker?" I asked Neiman.

He didn't appear to hear me. He had his head back against the wall and his eyes closed.

"Lenny," I said. "Are you with it?"

"Slower than shit," Lenny mumbled.

"Is he ready to be plucked?"

"I'll drink to that." Lenny still didn't open his eyes and he was still mumbling the words.

"How'd you like to play for the Vikings?"

"Shit."

"What the hell are you doing in Kansas City?"

"Earning a living," he said.

"You can make more teaching gym in a high school."

"I hate teachers. My mother was a teacher."

"Imagine playing in the Superbowl."

"Norton, you're washed up."

"I'm just a dreamer."

"Nope: A complete horse's ass."

"Are we going to beat these guys?"

"You're going to. Some bastard out there is killing me," Lenny groaned.

"I need this game."

"Quit dreaming, Norton. You need a new asshole."

Reeves and Clemens came over. They started telling me what to do. I listened to them. Reeves said he would call the plays in the second half.

He was crazy. He didn't know what was going on out there. Christ, a quarterback can see the whole thing. The entire field is laid out there for a quarterback once you get behind the center. Maybe Paul Simpson could do it with the Cleveland Browns. He'd been a quarterback. Reeves was crazy. He'd been a Hanker all his life. Not that I would turn down suggestions from somebody in the press box, but in this league the coach didn't have any assistant sitting in the press box.

I took off my helmet, dropped it on the ground.

"Get yourself another quarterback," I said.

"You pull that and you'll never play anyplace again," Clemens said.

"Maybe Jackos will wake up for the second half."

"Reeves will call," said Clemens.

"Reeves will play if he calls the plays," I said.

"Screw it," said Reeves. "Let him call it. Let him cut his own throat."

They walked away. Rick Allen, the defensive line coach, was yelling across the room: "Square off! Square off!" Then: "Jensen, are you going to pinch or. aren't you?"

Schaeffer came over. He looked beat, his face was pale. I sat down slowly. I felt as if I'd been kicked all over by a horse.

"Do me a favor," Schaeffer said. "Don't run me over right tackle."

"What's wrong?"

"Smiley isn't blocking and their tackle. Sixty-four. He's tearing my head off."

"I'll talk to Smiley."

"Just don't run me there."

"Hell, I ran it myself."

"Maybe Smiley blocked for you."

"You can do it."

"Don't give me that Reeves crap."

"Hustle, baby. Hustle."

Then everybody started shouting. I wanted to go to sleep. Reeves was yelling something. I picked up my helmet and started to move out.

We kicked off. The ball carrier made it to the twenty-five before Neiman hit him and Baker sat on his head. Steele reared back on the first down and tossed the bomb and hit the spread end in mid-field. Bayfield didn't catch him until he was on our thirty. Steele fumbled on the next play and Neiman recovered.

Flip right, flex side.

We got a little ground game going. Damn little. We punted. Decatur took over on a fair catch. Their thirty, Steele burned us for. twelve yards on a first-down screen pass right. Our free safety picked off their third-down pass. On first down I threw a spot pass to Lennox for eleven yards.

Schaeffer got sacked. On a roll-out right I got creamed. I saw stars. Then somebody was helping me up and I was kneeling in the huddle. All the cheering sounded far away.

B-Right-50 Trap

I bootlegged and faked away. The fullback went straight ahead as though blocking the tackle on a wide play. Schaeffer took the hand off. The double team block went in. The off-guard pulled, trapped the middle linebacker coming through the zero hole. Schaeffer was through the hole, running like hell. I called the same play again and somebody hit me. I went down. My head was whirling. The back end of my skull pounded. I got into the huddle. "First down," a voice said in the huddle. I couldn't see any receivers on the next play. The blitz nailed me. Decatur returned the punt to their forty-five.

Steele started passing again. I started thinking about Mary Derry. I knelt on the sideline, trying to remember something Neiman had said to me in the dressing room. We stopped the passing and Beebe went to the ground. Koch sat beside me on the bench.

"You don't know what day it is, do you? What city is this? How old are you? Who's your girl?"

"What did Neiman say to me?"

"He's out cold."

"Who's slow?"

Steele had this one setback, thirteen, high knees and twisty, faster than he looked, and he was knocking out the yards, short, long, short, long. Steele was getting us up for a pass. I thought about Mary Derry. Crawford came out. His face looked like he'd been in a meat grinder. One eye was closed. Steele pulled a quarterback draw and picked up eleven yards to our twenty.

Neiman was walking back and forth in front of the bench, mumbling.

Our defense stopped them on the fourteen. They tried a field goal and Crockett blocked it with one hand. I put on my helmet and jogged across the field. I ached all over.

B-Right-Flip 8

Their linebackers looked overanxious. They had a six-man rush going. I could see the inside safety watching my eyes. They were going to rush three linebackers. No pass coverage responsibility. I could smell it. The ends would have to pick up for the middle linebacker. But if the defensive ends didn't draw a block from the tackles, their blitz wasn't worth a crap. The outside linebackers wouldn't get near me. Well, I'd have to keep two backs back to block. No other way to stop that blitz. Then it would be three receivers against four deep men. Lennox could run a good individual pass route and shake his man. I called an audible at the line.

They were going to give me a seven-man rush. Left end and flanker in a four-step hook. I knew Lennox would. start fast. He could spin out and run, too.

Lennox caught the ball and spun out for five yards. I called the same play again. I was going to gamble. The left halfback and full back were going to have to fire out fast.

"Faster than hell," I said in the huddle to Schaeffer and Hicks. "Fast. Fast. Fast."

Hook and Go

I was counting on that slow linebacker to try to pick off a short hook pass. I went back fast to set up. I saw Lennox hook and then go, running to beat hell. I pushed off hard. Lennox veered off to the left. The pass was soft, over him. I watched as he gathered it in and cut for the sidelines. The crowd roared. It was a hell of a gamble for a cheap touchdown. Neiman was right. He had picked the slow man. Lennox went straight in for a touchdown. Everybody was yelling and jumping up and down. Lennox was jumping up and down, holding the ball up high. The sound of the band came, thudding through the noise of the crowd. Somebody slapped me on the shoulder. Hawk kicked the extra point. I sat down on the bench. Reeves came over.

"You got them moving," he said. "You got them moving."

"I think I'm going to throw up."

"Easy. Easy."

I threw up and felt better after a drink of cold water.

Hawk kicked off. Number thirteen caught the ball on the five. Then, coming straight up the middle, he picked up two blocks and a lane opened and thirteen really turned on the speed. I started to stand up. He made two cuts, dropped his shoulder, head faked the deep safety, went in standing up in the end zone.

I felt lousy suddenly. I could feel the whole team droop right there on the bench. They kicked the extra point, and then we returned the kick-off to the twenty-seven where Hicks almost fumbled. Neiman was carried off again.

"He's dead," somebody said.

"No way," said Koch. "He doesn't even know he hurts."

1 Right X 99 Screen Right to Strong End

Hicks was pass blocking. He threw himself at the rusher. This was stupid. This big bastard, sixty-six, threw Hicks aside. He had a clear shot at me. I retreated fast. He swung an arm at my face. The screen was forming too slow. I couldn't see over sixty-six. He was right on top of me. I swung out and threw to Schaeffer, but I couldn't see the screen. I was stupid. Schaeffer caught it, fumbled and the linebacker fell on it. Reeves was a raving maniac when we came off the field.

Decatur shifted into a spread on our thirty-three. Full back went up the middle for three. Halfback went off tackle for three. Steele sneaked for five.

"Shit," said Baker on the bench beside me. "We've had it."

"They'll stop them."

"Pig's ass."

Our defense stopped them on the sixteen. I gambled on a screen that picked up fifteen yards. Schaeffer cut inside tackle for six. I gave it to the new kid on a counter and he went for ten. I felt happy. The grass smelled good again.

Somebody was talking to himself in the huddle. It was Neiman. I couldn't imagine what he was still doing in the line-up. I whacked him on the shoulder and told him to shut up. I started running sweeps. Fred Hill, the new kid, could move. He picked up a first down at our forty. The people in the stands were screaming.

"Whip. Whip. Whip," Neiman was mumbling. "Bastards. Bastards. Bastards."

"Going to get a piece of your ass, Norton," their right guard yelled before we huddled.

A Right 95 Block Pass

Hicks missed his assignment again on pass protection. In a minute it looked like the whole right side of the line was coming at me. I could see their teeth. Animals. Tear me apart. I slid forward in the pocket. Five pairs of hands were trying to grab me. I ducked down. I couldn't see anything on the periphery. Then somebody hit me across the jaw with an arm and I stepped out of the pocket and started running. Somebody brushed me and I shoved a hand in his face and ran straight ahead. I saw Hicks coming across the field and their free safety up ahead and one corner linebacker, bigger than hell, and I cut for the sidelines. I felt I was picking up speed. I saw Hicks cut down the free safety. The cornerback had the angle on me, but I was cruising. I couldn't believe it. I really had some speed going. I heard him coming up on me and I reversed and ran straight toward him. No room for a hip-fake. I cut back and he made his move and missed; then I heard him running after me, but I was free, going straight down the sideline.

The roar of voices was all around me. I seemed to be running through the roar as if the roaring and screaming were a substance. I tooled into the end zone. I felt like throwing the ball over the fence. I flipped it lightly in the air and let it drop to the turf. Then Neiman was picking me up. Players were grabbing me and I was half boosted onto a couple of shoulders and everybody went on yelling. They carried me about ten yards. Somebody socked me on the helmet. I walked casually to the sidelines. Hawthorne jogged past on the way to the kick conversion.

"Baby!" he said. "Baby!"

"Get those points."

"Got them. Got them. Got them."

I felt damn good. I sat down on the bench. Reeves didn't say a word. He was busy watching the kick-off team. Both his fists were balled and he was slapping his thighs. Hawk raised his arm and the teams swept toward collision. I couldn't feel any bruises right now.

Decatur started slugging. Fifteen yards for roughing. Back to their five. Steele stayed on their five. Steele stayed on the ground for two plays. Third and five. Steele rolled out right, threw left. Their tight end took it behind a good screen. They started down the sideline. Reeves started screaming. Everybody came off the bench. Up to their twenty-five, thirty, thirty-five, forty, forty-five. A terrible fear enveloped the bench. Decatur was going all the way. Past mid-field.