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other. It looked almost like dancing as they both reached higher
and higher to snag the ball first. Time slowed, freezing everybody
in the stadium as they watched, but Patton didn t need to look. He
knew what would happen. He saw it with perfect clarity, and he
might have been the only one who wasn t shocked when the
defender deftly nabbed the football out of the air.
The field shifted into a different sort of motion as the defense
became blockers and the offense moved to chase down the
intercepting player. Patton followed the line of bodies, rushing to
get a blow in if it came down to it, but Bryce managed to catch the
corner s jersey and drag him to the grass before he made it more
than a handful of yards.
Fuck.
No penalties on the play, no whistles, and Patton had no choice
but to trot off the field. Coach waited for him, his fat, lined face
glowing cherry red. He grabbed Patton by the facemask, brought
his face in close, and shouted, Who told you that you could
change the plays?
I didn t like the look of a run. We had eighteen yards! You
were just setting us up for a punt.
I m the fucking coach, and I ll decide what plays we run. Do
you fucking understand me?
There was nothing to do but say, Yes, Coach. The angry man
released him as soon as he did, muttering that the fucking defense
needed a goddamned breather. Patton bit his tongue, silently
vowing that on the next drive they would have as much of a
breather as they needed.
DeShawn was waiting for him at the bench, a towel in one
hand, a cup of water in the other. Patton accepted both offerings
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with a wry smile. This might have been more appropriate if I took
more than two snaps.
Don t be upset. That was a good pass.
It was an intercepted pass. Do you realize my stats for the year
are one attempt and one pick?
Yeah, but it won t be that way for long. Look, you just
overthrew him a little bit. That wasn t your fault. You re used to
throwing at me.
What are you talking about?
I m faster than Bryce. You ve got to make a few adjustments
for him. Then he ll be able to get under those long passes.
Patton blinked, considering what he knew of both men from
practice. He could always put more heat on it when he threw to
DeShawn. Always. Bryce was one of the fastest, nimblest wide
receivers in the game. But DeShawn always beat him because he
was just a hairsbreadth faster.
Too bad you re not a wide receiver.
Just remember what I said. You could fucking tear apart this
defense. You know you could. Connect with Bryce once, and
everything else will fall into place.
They ll just put more coverage on Bryce. Patton tilted his
head. But that would open up the run a little bit.
Then maybe Coach will stop bellowing about time of
possession.
I m going to talk to Bryce.
Don t tell him I said I faster.
I wouldn t dream of it.
In the end, it worked. Patton returned to Bryce again and again,
and no matter how much the Hawks adjusted to stop them, they
couldn t be stifled. The ball just wanted to be with Bryce. Patton s
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passes were perfect, hard and fast, always just above or just to the
side of the coverage. He even felt cocky enough to throw into
traffic twice, taking the risk for the huge payoff. The first time, it
put them deep in Hawks territory, and they stayed in the red zone
for four downs before Bryce caught a short, rolling pass for a
touchdown. The second time, he fell into the end zone. At the two
minute warning, they were tied and Patton only had one timeout
left.
Listen to me. I want to end this, win it right now for Oz and
take him the game ball. We need to dig deep here. Nelson& He
pointed to the fullback. I m going to fake a handoff to you and I
need you to sell this like it s a used car, understand? Bryce, that ll
only buy you a few seconds. I need you to get down to the end
zone and get your ass open. I m rolling to the right. Got it?
Patton knew they could do it. He d seen them practicing the
same play with Oz over and over, sometimes running nothing else
for an entire morning. It was designed for exactly these sorts of
situations, and Chip had insisted they run it past the point of
exhaustion. When there was nothing left to give, when they were
all bled dry and empty, this play was supposed to be deep in their
flesh. Patton hadn t practiced it as much as Oz, but he hadn t
needed to. He had over twenty years of muscle memory keeping
him on his feet. He d been built for this. Nobody else could do this
like him. Nobody else could want it as much.
Patton snapped the ball and turned to fake to Nelson. He let the
ball touch the fullback s chest, then ducked over and used his body
to block sight of it as Nelson took off to the left, running full tilt
with his arm tucked up to his chest, the other hand out to push
away the descending Hawks. By the time Patton reached the right
side of the field, Bryce was already down to the twenty. In the
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back of his head, a little voice whispered that this was stupid, that
he still had plenty of time left, that he shouldn t be so flashy. But
the entire field had shifted to the left, following Nelson and Patton
had a good look.
There wasn t a black jersey within five yards of him when he
finally threw that ball. His shoulder flared with pain, but the spiral
was perfect. Perfect and Patton knew, knew in his gut, that Bryce
would catch it. He watched with hands clenched and heart in his
throat, lips moving in silent prayers and encouragement. Bryce
reached up, his body twisted slightly, his entire form elongated. He
was already a tall man, but he somehow found another three inches
to reach over the corner s head. Hands cradled the ball just as one
foot came down on the right side of the white line. The other toe
dragged for just a second and then he crashing to the sidelines.
Please be complete. Please be inbounds. Please be complete.
Please please please.
The referee s arms went up over his head in parallel lines and
the side judge mimicked him, both signaling the touchdown.
Patton whooped and punched the air, jogging down the sideline
to join the rest of his celebrating team in the end zone. Inside,
Patton screamed and cheered and clapped, but outside, there was a
perfect hush. The home crowd wasn t quite so excited to see
Patton s touchdown completion, although they should have been
because it was fucking awesome. Probably one of the best things
any of them would personally witness that football season.
Bryce met him halfway, arms going around him in a quick,
exuberant hug. We fucking did it! Fuck! Did you see that fucking
catch?
Patton laughed and dragged his receiver off the field. I saw.
Nelson was perfect. I think he probably even had the announcers
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fooled.
He did. I heard them say it was a handoff. I think we got this
one in the bag.
Not quite. The PAT was good, but there was still a little over a
minute and a half after the Hawks downed the kick. Patton paced
the sidelines like a caged lion, biting his tongue to keep from
shouting at the field, eyes anxiously darting to the scoreboard
every few seconds, even though nothing had changed. The defense,
perhaps energized by watching the totally amazing touchdown,
dug deep into the last of their reserves and hung on. The Hawks
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