Triple Threat

by Mike Lupica

  She shot him a quick glance, hoping to catch his attention. But he looked as if he wished to be anywhere on the planet except sitting in this booth.

  Alex felt Sophie tug on her arm. Like, Let’s get out of here.

  “Don’t be modest,” Lewis said, sounding as sarcastic as Jeff. “They’ll probably be selling No. 3 jerseys at Dick’s this week.”

  “What, not yours, Josiah?” Sophie said.

  It was Lewis’s actual first name. Nobody at school ever used it, because they knew he hated it. Lewis was his middle name.

  “Aw, are you here to give Alex a cheer?” Lewis mocked.

  Alex ignored him.

  “Hey, Gabe,” she said, figuring maybe a more direct approach would help. Might shame him into realizing he was making a huge mistake.

  “Hey,” he said in a small voice, staring into his bowl of ice cream.

  “Let’s go,” Sophie said. “This is about as much fun as watching grass grow.”

  But Jeff wasn’t finished. He looked up at Alex and said, “Anybody can look good at garbage time.”

  They all knew what garbage time meant in sports, even though Alex had always hated the expression when announcers used it on TV. Garbage time usually meant backups got a few minutes to play at the end of blowout games like today’s.

  “The defense was barely trying,” Jeff said.

  Clearly, he wasn’t letting go so easily.

  Alex shifted her eyes to Gabe, wishing he would say something. Anything. But he was still hunched over his bowl of ice cream, averting his eyes from Alex and Jeff.

  “Let’s go,” Sophie said again.

  But Alex stood her ground.

  “You know, Jeff, I finally figured out your problem,” she said.

  “That you shouldn’t be on our team?”

  “No,” she said. “You can’t take it that I’m better than you.”

  “Seriously?” he said, his voice rising. “You think one touchdown pass means you’re better?”

  Alex smiled now.

  “I wasn’t talking about football,” she said.

  20

  After Sophie’s mom picked them up and dropped them back at Alex’s house, Alex decided not to tell her dad what happened at Bostwick’s. He was still floating on air from watching Alex play today, like he had been the one to throw a touchdown pass to Gabe.

  Her buddy Gabe.

  Or so she’d thought.

  Alex and Sophie were barely through the front door when Jack Carlisle started up about the first Steelers home game tomorrow. In the same breath, he asked if Alex had brought back ice cream for him. She held up the to-go bag in her hand.

  “Of course,” he said, “I don’t need ice cream to make my day better than it already is.”

  “Dad,” Alex said. “We lost!”

  “Minor technicality,” he said.

  When Alex and Sophie were upstairs, Sophie said, “He really is over the moon.”

  “That’s why I’m not going to spoil it by telling him about a maroon like Jeff Stiles,” Alex said.

  “Maroon?”

  “It’s one of my dad’s expressions,” Alex said. “Like moron, but better.”

  “By the way?” Sophie said. “Don’t let that maroon spoil this moment for you, either.”

  “He tried pretty hard,” Alex said, smirking. “But he was about as good at that as he was at football today.”

  They were on Alex’s bed watching To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before on her laptop when her mom called from California. Alex guessed she was calling to see how the big game went.

  Alex motioned for Sophie to keep watching and headed downstairs and out to the back porch. She passed through the living room, where her dad was watching the Penn State–Ohio State game.

  “Soooooo. How did it go?” her mom said.

  Alex told her.

  “Wait,” her mom said. “You got to play in the first game and threw a touchdown pass? Get out of town!”

  “I know, right? It was almost like I knew what I was doing out there,” Alex said.

  “Sounds like you proved something today.”

  “Not to my teammates,” Alex said, before telling her mom what happened at Bostwick’s.

  “Nothing you could ever do would impress that boy,” her mom said. “And you’re not doing this to impress him anyway.”

  “I know.”

  “He’s just mad because you showed him up,” her mom said. “Even if you apparently didn’t shut him up.”

  “I didn’t tell Dad,” she said. “He just would’ve gotten mad.”

  “Sounds like you got a little mad yourself.”

  “The one I should be mad at is Gabe,” Alex said. “I can’t figure out how to handle things with him.”

  “Well, let’s talk about that,” Liza Borelli said. Alex’s mom wasn’t a psychologist, but sometimes she sounded like one.

  Football was never going to be her mom’s strong suit, even if she was getting better at talking about it. But she was much more skilled at discussing growing-up things.

  “He’s always been such a good friend to you, honey,” she said to Alex. “It just sounds to me as if he’s under some tremendous peer pressure and isn’t handling it particularly well.”

  “But he told me he’d be my friend no matter what.”

  “Maybe he won’t be until the season is over.”

  Alex bristled. “Friendship isn’t supposed to be a seasonal thing, like football.”

  “You’re right,” her mom said. “It shouldn’t be. But keep in mind, people process things in different ways.”

  “Jabril says he just needs time and space.”

  “Jabril sounds like he knows what he’s talking about.”

  Alex sighed.

  “Honey,” her mom said, “you had to know it was going to be like this. It always is when somebody’s the first to try something. People are threatened by it.”

  “But why?”

  “Because people generally like things to stay status quo,” her mom said. “In this case, in Orville boys’ football.”

  “Even when you’re good at something?”

  “Especially when you’re good,” her mom said.

  Alex heard the sliding door behind her. Her dad poked his head out. Alex pointed to the phone and mouthed, Mom. He nodded and went back inside. Her parents still talked sometimes, if not all that often. And not today. Maybe her dad wanted to give Alex the chance to tell her mom about the game herself.

  “People keep asking me if it’s all worth it,” Alex said. “I keep telling them it is. But sometimes I’m not so sure.”

  “Honey, there’s always a cost when you chase a dream,” Liza said.

  “Is there more of a cost when you’re a girl?”

  Her mom’s sigh was so loud Alex imagined she didn’t even need a phone to hear it all the way from California.

  “At present? Yes,” she said. “When I was growing up, people used to say it was a ‘man’s world.’ Smart people, especially smart women, knew that wasn’t true. But it didn’t change the fact that we had to fight a little harder to get what we wanted.”

  Alex took in some air, let it out.

  “Going after what I wanted cost me your father,” she admitted.

  The thought hit Alex like a two-hundred-pound linebacker.

  “Wow,” Alex breathed, her voice soft now. “Was it worth it to you?”

  She didn’t know where the question came from, but there it was.

  “Chasing my dream cost me my marriage, absolutely,” Alex’s mom said. “But I’d like to think it hasn’t cost me you. Or we wouldn’t be having this conversation, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Listen,” her mom said. “I have to get back to the hospital. There’s a patient I need
to look in on.”

  Not the first time this had happened. Alex knew it wouldn’t be the last.

  “Let me leave you with something,” her mom said. “You know how little I know about football.”

  “Uh huh,” said Alex.

  “But I think I know you well enough to know that you wouldn’t have taken this on if you didn’t think you had a chance to be great. Not just good. Great. So go do that, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “And don’t let a toolbox like Jeff what’s-his-name think he can take you down.”

  “Toolbox, Mom?”

  “Hey, you gotta give me credit for trying. But I have to run. Love you and I’m proud of you!”

  Alex said “I love you” back and hung up the phone.

  21

  Football Sundays at Heinz Field always felt special for Alex, ever since the first time her dad started taking her six years ago. Alex never grew tired of watching the Steelers play live.

  While Alex loved so many things about her dad, and their life in Orville, there had always been something magical about their trips to Pittsburgh.

  Despite Alex’s jokes, her dad didn’t need a son with whom to share the Steelers. He just needed her. He wanted to be with her, cheering at the good plays, groaning at the bad. Running for a soda and hot dog or soft pretzel at halftime.

  Steelers against the Browns today.

  Today football was pure fun.

  Oh, she wanted her team to win. That was always the goal. She knew she’d be upset if they lost, and the ride home would feel a lot longer than the ride there. But she wasn’t experiencing the kind of nerves she’d felt yesterday against the Cardinals. Today was more of a celebration. Right from the time they entered the Heinz Field parking lot to tailgate with old friends. Her dad brought his portable grill, as always. His job was to fire up the burgers and dogs and bratwurst and chicken wings for what Alex called their “Steeler Family.” They’d been tailgating together for as long as Alex could remember.

  Mr. and Mrs. Chaplin brought amazing salads for every home game. Mr. and Mrs. Paoli made the desserts. The Paolis were from Latrobe, and their son Tommy was the same age as Alex. By now, they felt like football cousins. But then, the whole thing felt like a family reunion. When the Steelers played on Monday night, Jack Carlisle always brought his daughter with him—even though Alex had school the next day and they sometimes wouldn’t get home until well after midnight.

  “Wouldn’t be the same without you,” her dad explained to her. “We’re a team.”

  They were a team, starting another home season watching their team. The weather was perfect. So was the game, pretty much. The Steelers were ahead, 24–7, by halftime and never let up after that. A lot of people started to leave late in the fourth quarter, with the Steelers up 38–14 by then. Not Alex and her dad. They always stayed until the very end. Avoiding the rush ended up working in their favor, as traffic getting out of Pittsburgh wasn’t as bad as it could have been.

  Alex never minded sitting in traffic with her dad, though. If anything, she preferred it, because it kept the day going. And this had been a particularly good day, not just because the Steelers had won in a breeze. She had watched the game from a different perspective today. Paid closer attention to what the quarterbacks were doing. She’d watched their footwork closely, watched the way they viewed the field when they dropped back to pass. How they’d look one way for the longest time before turning in the other direction to find an open receiver.

  Having taken some hits of her own now, Alex studied the way they’d go into their slides when they ran out of the pocket and into the open field. In other words, she studied how to avoid getting sacked.

  On one play, the Steelers quarterback went into his slide even though he could have gained a few more yards by running. Afterward, Alex’s dad leaned in toward her ear and said, “Sometimes you have to know when to tackle yourself. Even if you’re not afraid of taking a hit.”

  “I’m not afraid,” Alex said.

  He patted her knee and said, “My girl.”

  They’d left the stadium and were crossing over the city line into Orville when Jack Carlisle said, “This ought to be an interesting week of practice for you.”

  “They’re all interesting,” Alex said.

  “You earned some respect yesterday,” he said, “whether they want to admit that or not.”

  “Nothing I ever do will be enough for the guys who don’t want me on the team,” she said. “And they all pretty much don’t want me on the team.”

  “And that’s not fun, I know,” he said. “But you were still having fun out there yesterday. I could tell.”

  She decided to tell him then about what had happened at Bostwick’s. What Jeff had said about garbage time and her sly comeback.

  Jack Carlisle shook his head and snorted. “What he said is what’s garbage,” he said. “Everybody on the field was still trying. Still trying to show their coaches they deserved to be out there. It was still eleven against eleven out there.”

  “You know what I saw today?” Alex said. “I saw the players on both teams supporting their teammates, especially after one of them made a good play.”

  They were pulling into their driveway now.

  “It’ll get better,” her dad said.

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Okay,” he said. “Let me put it another way: it can’t get any worse, right?”

  Wrong.

  22

  The next game for the Owls was that Saturday, against the Palmer Lions.

  And it turned out the players on the Lions didn’t like having a girl on the field any more than the Owls did.

  Maybe less.

  It started during warm-ups.

  Alex did some extra stretching on the fifty-yard line after the team had gone through their regular calisthenics. Her dad was the one who’d recommended it. Nothing major. Just basic stuff. But he’d drummed into her head that any athlete—“even an old dude like me”—was dumber than rocks not to stretch before engaging in physical activity.

  Two of the Lions players came jogging past her.

  No. 14 and No. 58.

  None of Alex’s teammates were close by to notice. Shocker.

  “Hey,” No. 14 said to Alex. “We heard about you.”

  Alex didn’t respond. She was lying on her back, extending one leg and then the other into the air to stretch her quads.

  “Hope we don’t make you cry today,” No. 58 said.

  They were keeping their voices down, presumably not wanting to get in trouble with their own coach.

  “Or run to your mommy,” No. 14 said.

  For some reason, they both found that hilarious. But she thought it was pretty dumb—and uninspired, honestly.

  She rolled over into a sitting position.

  “My mom lives in California,” she said. “So that would be difficult.”

  She thought that would stop them, but it didn’t. She gave a quick check of the field, hoping to see Jabril somewhere nearby. Not to be her protector. Just to interrupt their little chat so she could concentrate on what really mattered: winning this game.

  “We were wondering,” No. 14 said. “When you’re not playing, do they give you pom-poms and have you lead some cheers?”

  They busted up laughing at that.

  Then No. 58 took a step closer to Alex, leaned down, and said, “Hope to see you on our field later.”

  Alex stood up to her full height, a few inches taller than No. 58.

  “Not just yours,” she said.

  “What?”

  “It’s not just your field,” she said. “It’s everybody’s. Even mine today.”

  Then she turned and walked toward the Owls’ bench. She was filling up her water bottle at the cooler when Jabril said, “What was all that about?”<
br />
  “Just a little pregame chirp,” Alex said. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

  He smiled one of his wide Jabril smiles.

  “Still waiting to see something you can’t handle,” he said, slapping her five.

  * * *

  • • •

  It turned out that No. 14 was the Lions’ quarterback, and No. 58 was an outside linebacker. And, to Alex’s great amusement, neither was living up to their smack talk. Jabril intercepted the second pass No. 14 threw and returned it thirty yards for a touchdown. No. 58 and his teammates on defense were helpless against stopping the Owls’ running game. The guys in the offensive line kept opening up huge holes for Tariq, as he ripped off one big gain after another. Alex knew Jeff must have wanted to throw the ball more, but there was no point. Not the way the Owls were controlling the game on the ground. So Coach continued calling handoffs to Tariq and the other running backs. By halftime, it was 20–0, Owls.

  The second half wasn’t much different. No. 14 continued having a very, very bad day. Or maybe, Alex, thought, this was a normal day for him. On the Lions’ first drive of the second half, No. 14 fumbled at his own ten-yard line, and Bryan Chen picked up the ball and ran in for an easy touchdown. Tariq ran the ball in for the conversion. Now it was 27–0. Alex wanted to feel bad for the quarterback. But she couldn’t. Not after the way he’d acted before the game. He was just another bully. In or out of football uniforms. She’d already had her fill of it in football, and they weren’t even finished with the second game of the season.

  It was 33–0 for the Owls, two minutes into the fourth quarter, when Coach told Alex to go in for Jeff. It was a different kind of blowout game this week, with the Owls leading. Maybe this was the way it was going to be all season. She would only get a chance to play if they were winning by a mile or losing by a mile.

  Alex didn’t care.

  She just wanted to play. Whether the game was on the line or not.

  “It’s gonna be pretty straightforward stuff,” Coach said. “You’ll do what Jeff spent most of the game doing, which means handing off the ball. I’m not one of those coaches who thinks he can impress people by running up the score. We haven’t done that today. Our last two scores have come off our defense. Mostly we just want to run the clock and get the heck out of here. Got it?”