Paul: "It was all in the cadence."
Blanchard: "I remember their Coach going crazy, charging the field."
Neely: "He got a flag. Half the distance."
Silo: "That guy was psycho, and the more we scored the louder he screamed."
First and goal from the two and a half. Option left, here comes the pitch, Marcus Mabry is hit, drives, and falls into the end zone! Touchdown Spartans! Touchdown!
Buck's voice carried even farther through the still night. Rabbit, at some point, heard it and crept into the shadows down the track to investigate the noise. He saw a crowd sitting and half-lying haphazardly up in the bleachers. He saw bottles of beer, smelled the smoke from the cigars. In another era, he would have taken charge and ordered everyone away from the field. But those were Rake's boys up there, the chosen few. They were waiting for the lights to go off.
If he got closer he could call each one by name, and number, and he could remember the exact location of their lockers.
Rabbit slipped through the metal braces under the bleachers and hid below the players, listening.
Silo: "Neely called for an onside kick, and it almost worked. The ball bounced around and got touched by every damned player on the field until some guy with the wrong jersey finally found a handle."
Ronnie: "They ran twice for two yards, then tried a long pass that Hindu broke up. Three and out, except that Hindu leveled the receiver out of bounds. Unnecessary roughness. First down."
Donnie: "It was a horrible call."
Blanchard: "We went crazy in the stands."
Randy: "My father almost threw his radio on the field."
Silo: "We didn't care. They weren't going to score."
Ronnie: "They went three and out again."
Couch: "Wasn't the punt return somewhere around here?"
Nat: "First play of the fourth quarter."
He turned up the volume.
East Pike back to punt on the Messina forty-one, the snap, a low, hard kick, taken on the bounce by Paul Curry at the five, wide to the right to the ten, cuts back - He's got a wall! A perfect wall! To the twenty, thirty, forty! Cuts back across midfield, picks up a block from Marcus Mabry, to the forty, the thirty, along the far sideline! He's got blockers everywhere! To the ten, five, four, two, touchdown!! Touchdown Spartans! A ninety-five-yard punt return!
Nat turned the volume down so they could savor one of the greatest moments in Spartan football history. The punt return had been executed with textbook precision, every block and every move choreographed by Eddie Rake during endless hours of practice. When Paul Curry danced into the end zone he was escorted by six green jerseys, just the way they'd been drilled. "We all meet in the end zone," Rake had screamed, over and over.
Two East Pike players were down, victims of vicious, but legal, blindside blocks that Rake had taught them in the ninth grade. "Punt returns are perfect for killing people," he'd said, over and over.
Paul: "Let's listen to it again."
Silo: "Once is enough. Same ending."
After the field was cleared, East Pike took the following kickoff and began a drive that would consume six minutes. For one brief period in the second half, they used their superior talent to chew up sixty yards, though every inch was contested. Their seamless execution of the first half was long gone, replaced by stutter steps and uncertainty. The sky was falling. One massive choke was under way, and they were powerless to stop it.
Every handoff drew a furious attack from all eleven defenders. Every short pass ended with the receiver crumpled on the ground. There was no time for long passes; Silo could not be contained. On fourth and two from the Messina twenty-eight, East Pike foolishly went for the first down. The quarterback faked a pitch to the left, bootlegged to the right, looking for the tight end. The tight end, however, had been mauled at the line by Donnie Utley, whose twin was blitzing like a mad dog. Ronnie caught the quarterback from behind, stripped the ball like he'd been taught, flung him to the ground, and the Spartans, trailing 31-21, were in business with five thirty-five to go in the game.
There's something wrong with Neely's right hand, not a single pass attempt in the second half. When the defense is on the field he keeps it buried in an ice bucket. East Pike has it figured out - they're in man coverage on the wideouts, everybody else is packed along the line of scrimmage.
Jaeger: "It was broken, wasn't it?"
Paul: "Yes, it was broken."
Neely just nodded.
Jaeger: "How'd you break it, Neely?"
Silo: "A locker-room incident."
Neely was silent.
First and ten from the Spartan thirty-nine, Curry wide right, motion left, pitch right side to Marcus Mabry, who gets four, maybe five very tough yards. Devon Bond is all over the field. Must be a linebacker's dream, not worrying about pass coverage, just stalking the football. Spartans huddle quickly, sprint to the line, they can hear the clock. Quick snap, dive to Chenault, right behind Silo Mooney, who is just slaughtering people in the middle of field.
Silo: "I like that-slaughtering."
Donnie: "That was putting it mildly. Frank missed a block on a sweep, and Silo punched him in the huddle."
Neely: "He didn't punch him. He slapped him. The referee started to throw a flag, but he wasn't sure if you could be penalized for roughing up your own teammates."
Silo: "He shouldn't have missed the block."
Third and one at the forty-eight, four-twenty to go in the game, Spartans are back at the line before East Pike is set, quick snap, Neely rolling right, a keeper, across the fifty to the forty-five and out of bounds. First down and the clock will stop. The Spartans need two touchdowns. They'll have to start using the sidelines.
Silo: "Go for it, Buck, why don't you just call the plays?"
Donnie: "I'm sure he knew them."
Randy: "Hell, everybody knew them. They didn't change in over thirty years."
Couch: "We ran the same plays you guys were running against East Pike."
Mabry off tackle again, for four yards, hit hard by Devon Bond and the safety, Armondo Butler, a real headhunter. They have no fear of the pass, so they're really loading up against the run. Double tight end set, Chenault in motion right, option left, pitch to Mabry, who spins forward, keeps chugging, somehow picks up three. It'll be third and three now, another big play, but they're all big now. Clock's counting, under four minutes to play. Ball at the thirty-eight. Curry sprints from the huddle, wide left, split backfield, Neely drops back into the shotgun, the snap, he rolls right, looking, looking, there's pressure, and off he goes to the far side, and he's nailed by Devon Bond. A really nasty helmet to helmet collision, and Neely is slow getting up.
Neely: "I couldn't see. I've never been hit that hard, and for thirty seconds or so I couldn't see."
Paul: "We didn't want to waste a time-out, so we yanked him up, got him to his feet, sorta dragged him back to the huddle."
Silo: "I slapped him too, and that really helped."
Neely: "I don't remember that."
Chapter Fourteen
Paul: "It was fourth and one. Neely was in la-la land, so I called the play. What can I say, I'm a genius."
Fourth and one, Spartans are slow coming to the line. Crenshaw doesn't feel too well right now, doesn't look too steady. Huge play. Huge play. This could be the ballgame, folks. East Pike has nine men on the line. Double tight ends, no wideouts. Crenshaw finds the center, long snap, quick pitch to Mabry, who stops, jumps, shovels a pass across the middle to Heath Dorcek, who's wide open! To the thirty! The twenty! Hit at the ten! Stumbles and falls down to the three! First and goal Spartans!