Triple Threat

by Mike Lupica

  It was then that everybody noticed Jeff still hadn’t gotten up.

  * * *

  • • •

  He had landed awkwardly on his throwing shoulder. Coach jogged out onto the field, followed closely by Jeff’s dad and Dr. Calabrese. Alex saw Dr. Calabrese check Jeff out right away, gently manipulating the shoulder, asking him to make some simple movements with it. After a few minutes, Jeff sat up, and Coach helped him to his feet. From her position on the sideline, Alex saw Jeff pressing his right arm tightly to his stomach as he came off the field.

  “The good news is that I think you only bruised it,” Dr. Calabrese said. “The bad news, son, is that you’re done for the day.”

  “But that means done for the season, too!” Jeff yelled.

  “I know you want to play,” Dr. Calabrese said. “But you’d risk turning a bad bruise into something more serious.”

  Then Mr. Stiles pulled Dr. Calabrese aside, and they walked behind the Owls’ bench. As usual, Mr. Stiles did most of the talking. They could hear his voice projecting, muffling Dr. Calabrese’s responses, until they heard Mr. Stiles say, “I’m the dad.”

  “And I’m the doctor,” Cal’s dad boomed, and walked away.

  Alex walked over to Jeff. “I’m sorry,” she said. And she meant it, too. This was no way for anybody’s season to end. Even his.

  Jeff had his helmet off now. His face was red. So were his eyes. Alex thought he might cry.

  “No, you’re not,” he snapped at her.

  Alex turned and walked away, thinking that at least Jeff Stiles had been consistent to the end.

  The Owls’ defense managed to pin the Lions inside their ten-yard line. The Lions’ punt only made it to the thirty. Great field position, which Alex immediately squandered. On second down she rolled to her left. This time it was an option for her to run or throw. She attempted a throw, trying to squeeze in a pass to Gabe, who was covered by Kenny Vila. But Kenny read her perfectly. He stepped in front of Gabe, intercepted the pass, and started running the other way. Alex tried to get in his way, but Kenny stiff-armed her, and she fell to the ground. Then there was nothing but open field in front of him. He wasn’t as fast as Jabril, but fast enough. It was 12–0. Jabril at least kept it that way by knocking down Sam Pickett’s conversion pass.

  They were still down two touchdowns.

  The score stayed 12–0 until halftime. Nothing Alex tried on offense during the rest of the first half had worked. The only small victory was recovering her own fumble on the Owls’ last play.

  As she walked off the field, head down, she thought to herself: If I’d played like this at tryouts, I wouldn’t have made the team.

  She only lifted her head when she heard her name being called from behind the Owls’ bench.

  There, standing in front of her, was Dr. Liza Borelli.

  Mom.

  39

  She couldn’t prove it, but Alex was pretty sure she’d run faster than Jabril in that instant. Slowing down so she wouldn’t crush her mom on impact, she held out her arms and gave her mom a hug that could have lasted the rest of the game.

  When they pulled back from each other, her mom said, “Surprise.”

  She was wearing what appeared to be an ancient Orville High hoodie and jeans. Her hair was in a low ponytail.

  “How . . . ?” Alex said.

  Then: “Why didn’t you . . . ?”

  Her mom grinned.

  “I’m a doctor,” she said. “Things happen with patients. Plans change. I didn’t want to tell you I might be coming and then have to disappoint you at the last minute.”

  Alex had casually mentioned on the phone that she wished her mom could see her play, knowing it was all but impossible. Realistically, she never expected her mom would come. Never thought she could, with her packed schedule at the hospital. That was the secret she’d kept to herself all this time. How much she wanted—needed—her mom to see her on the field in person. Alex could never begin to imagine her mom getting on a plane and flying all the way across the country to see her daughter play a game of seventh-grade football.

  But she had.

  And now here she was.

  Watching Alex play—poorly—in the big game.

  “I was supposed to be here for the start of the game,” her mom said. “Took the red-eye. Then we got delayed for a couple of hours because of fog.”

  “You’re here now,” Alex said. “That’s all that matters. Other than the fact that I stink.”

  Alex noticed her dad about five yards behind her mom. Giving them room.

  “As you know, I’m no football expert,” Alex’s mom said, facing Alex and reaching across to plant both hands on her shoulders.

  “A well-known fact,” Alex said.

  “But even I know the game’s not over yet.”

  Alex knew it was time to get back with the team. Before she did, she asked her mom, “Any words of wisdom?”

  “Play better?” her mom said.

  It was basically the same advice they got from Coach Mencken.

  “You’re all better than this,” he said, standing at the center of the large circle they made around him. “Now you’ve got half a game instead of a whole one to prove it.”

  The cheerleaders were finishing up their routine at midfield when Coach turned to Alex.

  He reminded her they weren’t going to make up twelve points on one play.

  “Don’t try to be anything other than yourself,” he said.

  “I have to do better than I did in the first half,” said Alex.

  “What first half?” Coach said with a wink. “As far as I’m concerned, the game starts right now.”

  Alex took a quick look over her shoulder, to where her mom sat with her dad in the bleachers. Then she went out to play the second half of the big game.

  Before the Lions kicked off, Gabe said to Alex, “I saw your mom.”

  “I’m still in shock,” Alex said.

  “Time for you to shock those Lions right out of the lead,” Gabe said, and pounded her some fist.

  Tyler made a nice return of the kickoff, taking the ball all the way to the fifty-yard line. The offense took it from there, putting the first half behind them and starting fresh. Gabe made the biggest play. Alex had taken a direct snap, stood right up, and thrown the ball across the field to Gabe, who caught it fixed in place. Once the catch was made, then he made his move, putting such a good fake on Kenny Vila that Kenny ended up on the ground. Gabe finally ran twenty yards all the way to the Lions’ eighteen-yard line.

  Two plays later Alex dropped a pass in to Gabe over double coverage, right in front of the goalposts. The Owls were on the board. The conversion play was a quarterback draw. Cal and the guys in the line opened a huge hole for Alex, and she sprinted through it.

  Now it was 12–7.

  After Alex handed the ball to the ref, Kenny Vila came walking over. He’d missed her on the conversion, same as his teammates.

  “Enjoy the last points you guys are going to score all season,” he said.

  “Wanna bet?” Alex said.

  Coach had told her to be herself, after all.

  It began to rain a few minutes later. By the end of the third quarter, the score still 12–7, the rain was coming down hard. But the wind was practically nonexistent, so when Alex or Sam Pickett could get a good grip on the ball, they threw it fairly accurately.

  The challenge was getting a good grip.

  It had become a defensive game by then. Jabril seemed to be everywhere. So did Kenny Vila. The Owls had a terrific long drive at the start of the fourth quarter, but then Lewis dropped a fourth-down pass in the end zone that would have put the Owls in the lead.

  So it was still 12–7 when the Owls got the ball back, probably for the last time, on their ten-yard line.

  Three minutes l
eft.

  “I know it’s a challenge throwing,” Coach said. “But we’re gonna have to throw pretty much every down.”

  Alex felt herself smiling.

  “Grip and rip,” she said.

  Coach leaned down. Alex could see the water dripping off the brim of his O cap.

  “If you’re the player I believe you are,” he said, “you’ll be that player now.”

  Alex ran out onto the field with the offense thinking: Time to be the player I believe I am.

  * * *

  • • •

  “Ninety yards to go,” Alex said when she knelt in the huddle, before she told them the plan to run a screen to Tariq.

  “Piece of cake,” Gabe said.

  “I know you’re not thinking about cake at a time like this,” Alex said.

  She laughed to herself, thinking of what Sophie had said the day before at the pep rally.

  Perhaps if they won, there’d be cake in her future.

  But that wasn’t her concern right now. Right now, it was about getting across the field and past the goal line.

  Though for just a moment, their banter seemed to lighten the mood in the huddle. Alex remembered she’d read something about Joe Montana joking with his teammates during the Super Bowl when they had over ninety yards to go.

  She shook out her hands, trying to dry them as best she could. Then she broke the huddle, and when the ball was hiked, she threw a short pass to Tariq. Gabe threw him a big block on the closest Lions defender, and Tariq ran all the way to the thirty-yard line. Jake had thrown an incredible block of his own on Kenny Vila, but Kenny’s spike accidentally came down on Jake’s hand, and he had to come out.

  To Alex’s surprise, Jabril came running out to replace him.

  “Coach asked if I wanted to join the fun,” Jabril said. “Know what I told him?”

  “Heck yeah!” Alex said, slapping him a low five.

  The play was a pass to Jabril over the middle. The ball slipped coming off Alex’s fingers, and it wobbled through the rain. But it got there nonetheless. Jabril caught it and gained ten yards, flattening one of the Lions’ safeties along the way.

  The rain was coming down harder than ever. Alex messed up a handoff to Tariq, the first running play Coach had called. The ball fell to the ground but somehow bounced right up into Tariq’s hands, and he managed to gain five yards. Sometimes it was better to be lucky than good, Alex’s dad liked to say.

  The Owls finally found themselves on the Lions’ twelve-yard line with one minute left in the championship game.

  Coach called their last time-out, and Alex ran over to get the first-down play: a pass to Gabe. But when this ball slipped out of Alex’s hands, it sailed long and over Gabe’s head.

  Alex got forced out of the pocket on the next play, having to scramble. She thought she could get to the sideline but didn’t and got tackled from behind. The clock was still running.

  Third down.

  Alex looked over at Coach. He waved at her, as if to say, Go for it.

  Meaning that Alex should call the play.

  Alex knew which play she wanted to run. In the huddle she quickly told her teammates they were going with the pass-run option. It was the same play she’d royally messed up in the first half, the bad pass that Kenny Vila turned into a touchdown.

  “Calling your own number,” Gabe said.

  “Or yours,” Alex said.

  “Love it,” he said. Then he tapped her helmet with his and said, “Do your job.”

  “Back at you.”

  She expected the Lions to come at her with an all-out blitz. It’s what she would have called if she were in their position. If the Lions could stop the Owls on this play and the next, they would be the champs. If Alex could get her team into the end zone—where Kenny Vila was so positive they weren’t going until next season—then the Owls would be the champs.

  The Lions blitzed.

  Alex wanted to run to her left, but there was no way to do that now. One of the Lions’ safeties had gotten around Jabril’s block and was flying at her from that direction.

  She reversed her field and ran to the right. As she made her cut, the safety slipped and went down.

  But he wasn’t the only one chasing her. There were a lot of big guys, all of them turning on their jets now, running through the slop.

  Gabe had run his pattern to the left. But when he saw that Alex was in trouble, he cut back across the back line, Kenny Vila on his heels and the other Lions safety in front of him.

  Alex ran for the sideline again, almost out of room and out of time, thinking about throwing the ball away if she had to and stopping the clock in the process.

  The first time they’d run the play today, she’d tried to force the ball in to Gabe, made a bad throw, and gotten run over by Kenny Vila as the play turned into a total disaster.

  She wasn’t going to let that happen again.

  Wasn’t going to make a bad throw, not now.

  And she wouldn’t throw the ball away, either.

  As Gabe cut in front of the goalposts, Alex saw that he was open by a margin. Just enough. A small hole, like the one she’d put the ball through at the fair.

  She didn’t even try to plant a foot in the mud. Alex threw on the run, with the best grip on the ball she’d had the whole second half, throwing it as hard as she could through the rain. Kenny Vila reached in from behind with his right arm, and the safety was a step late reacting to the ball, reaching in from Gabe’s left.

  The ball hit Gabe in the stomach. He cradled it with both arms, then sat down in the back of the end zone with the winning touchdown.

  It was 13–12, Owls.

  The lights on the scoreboard glowed.

  Right back to where I started, Alex thought as she ran for Gabe.

  Make throw.

  Win prize.

  40

  Before the Owls and their parents left to gather in the cafeteria for the trophy ceremony, Kenny Vila sought out Alex to shake her hand.

  “You’re good,” he said.

  To say Alex was stunned at this peace offering was an understatement. But she didn’t let on. Instead, she stuck out her hand and said, “So are you.”

  He nodded his head, a way of saying things were cool between them, and walked away to join the rest of his team.

  The ceremony was brief. Everybody was eager to get home to shower and dry off from the rain. Coach had brought in the trophy and said he’d be sending it out to get inscribed with the names of every player on the team. It would eventually go in the glass showcase near Principal Ross’s office.

  Then Coach announced that their official team party would be the following week at Bostwick’s.

  “I’d usually give out a game ball for such an occasion,” he said. “But I’d need three today, for Jabril, Gabe, and Alex.”

  A big applause followed, with hoots and hollers. Alex swore she heard her mom scream, “Yeah, Alex!” above the clamor.

  “Three Musketeers,” Gabe whispered.

  * * *

  • • •

  Later on, Jack hosted a few players and their parents for a postgame party at their house. Jabril and Gabe came over after they went home to change, but Sophie came straight from the field in her cheerleading uniform, which was only now starting to dry.

  “You guys killed it out there,” she said.

  “Piece of cake,” Alex said.

  Sophie’s eyes went wide. “Oh my god, cake!” she said. “You guys totally earned it.”

  Of course, because it was Jack Carlisle, it was an ice cream cake. He’d brought it home the night before and kept it in the freezer as a surprise. Alex realized he must have bought it knowing it would either be a celebratory cake or a consolation cake. She was glad it was the former.

  Alex’s dad brought the
cake out now, with three lit candles sticking up out of the center. He set it on the island in the kitchen, and everyone gathered around. Alex sidled up next to him.

  “Without embarrassing my daughter . . .” he started.

  “Oh boy, here we go,” Alex muttered, pinching her dad in the side.

  “I played football until football finally told me I wasn’t good enough to keep playing,” Jack said. “And my whole life I dreamed about making the kind of pass my kid made today to win a title.”

  Alex looked around the room and thought that being the center of attention—when it was for a good reason—wasn’t so bad.

  “I couldn’t be prouder,” he said. Then he pointed out the candles. “The number three is significant tonight. First, because that’s my girl’s number. The triple threat, Alex Carlisle.”

  Jabril whooped, and others clapped.

  “But also because three key players led the Owls to a championship win tonight. And that’s Alex, Jabril, and Gabe.”

  The room went wild.

  Then Sophie’s voice called above the rest. “Give me an O!”

  Everyone chanted back, “O!”

  “Gimme a W!”

  “W!”

  “Gimme an L!”

  “L!”

  “Gimme an S!”

  “S!”

  “What’s that spell?”

  “OWLS!”

  “Who’s number one?”

  “OWLS!”

  Then Alex, Jabril, and Gabe blew out the candles together.

  * * *

  • • •

  After the crowd dispersed and most people took seats in the living room, Alex found herself alone in the kitchen with her mom. Liza Borelli could only stay for the night. She had to fly back to California in the morning. It meant all the more to Alex that her mom flew six hours just to stay for less than twenty-four. It was bittersweet, too. They had very little time to spend together.

  “I know I missed a lot in your life,” Alex’s mom said. “But I’m sure glad I didn’t miss this.”

  “Glad you came, Mom,” Alex said. They were sitting on stools opposite each other at the counter.