Lord, I don’t ask for much. But I gotta hell of a lot of people counting on me right now. Just guide my actions in tonight’s game. Keep my team together and more so, keep me together. Amen.
He raised his head and applied his helmet. Staring through the gaps in his visor, he took a deep breath. His temperament steady, he remained focused. The announcer’s voice seemed to partner each step that he took, as he slowly walked down the tunnel towards his impending destiny.
“And NOOOW, The MAN WE'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR...LADIES AND GENTLEMAN, please rise to your feet and welcome...Your Leader! Your captain! Your master of football ceremonies! Make some noise for your all-star quarter back, AAAA RRRR, ANDREW ROBERTSOON!
He emerged from the tunnel. His presence sent the entire congregation of fans into an uproar of hysterical delirium. The chants of his name reverberated across the bleachers.
“ROBERTSON! ROBERTSON!”
The multitudes sang his praises in unison and he was ushered out to a hero’s welcome. Fireworks seared across the sky, horn’s blasted and he was in the limelight. He ran through a corridor of cheerleaders to meet with his squad who were equally just as happy to greet him onto the field. They came together as one, but not before high fives were shared amongst them. Now huddled together, all eyes were on Andrew.
“OK boys, now I ain't gotta tell you who’s counting on us tonight. Coach; the entire college campus and pretty much every hot-blooded male at the Alpha Gamma Frat House.” They all laughed as he concluded. “Let’s do them all proud, win this damn game and get you boys laid afterwards. On three, Warlords.” He gestured his hand into the centre of the huddle. Every player joined him respectively.
“1, 2, 3…”
“WARLORDS,” they screamed and broke apart into game formation.
The game was a ferocious one; back and forth, back and forth. Play after play, touchdown after touchdown. Both sides were evenly matched in skill and intensity. The air was filled with a mixture of scents. The alluring smell of refreshments, amidst the stench of sweat and masculine pheromones accompanied by the aroma of freshly trampled grass all added to the competitive atmosphere. Kingston had used up all its timeouts while Whittaker had one left. However, Kingston was on the offensive and only had a few yards to cover to gain a touchdown. The scoreboard read;
Kingston: 17
Whittaker: 17
Every person could feel the tension now, which was so immense in magnitude it was almost palpable. It was the last quarter with only 8 minutes of play left. Fans on both sides were on their feet. The anticipation created an eerie silence over the field as everyone concentrated and awaited the next play. The Kingston Tech coach could be seen focused on his team, but with a confident smile on his face. His team was in the position any coach would want and his peers were somewhat prematurely celebrating. Opposite the field, the picture told a different story. Coach Stevens stood, firm but nervous. His demeanour was deceptively cold. No one knew what he was thinking but deep down he was fearful. He wanted to win just as much as anyone else but he had to keep it together. These men looked to him as their inspiration, their leader. Remaining calm, removing his cap and wiping the sweat off his brow, he collected his thoughts.
Andrew scanned his fellow team members. They looked battered, bruised and exhausted. He could tell they wanted to fight on but in their current situation morale was dwindling. His stare panned from them to the scoreboard then back. His mind grew heavy with doubt, with pressure.
“Bring it in guys, bring it in.” He took a deep breath.
“The only chance we have of bringing this game back is to force a fumble.”
Each player looked at him in agreement. He chose a defensive play and gave strategic instructions to allocated team members. Once again he gestured his hand in the centre of the huddle, followed by his comrades. This time he put his hand on top of the pile of palms too, in an effort to boost his team’s confidence. He exhaled, and was just about to shout ‘warlords’, but was stopped in his speech. He looked around, frightened and puzzled. It was as if time was slowing down around him.
That’s when it happened...a sudden shock-wave of images flooded his psyche. In a matter of seconds, his mind was taking in all the thoughts of his team. Their fears, anxieties, thoughts of victory and failure, all seemed to rush his senses in a burst of information. Then, as if nothing had happened, time returned to normal. He collected himself, to find his team was just staring at him with slight concern; all their hands still in the pile in the centre waiting for their quarterback to initiate the break off command.
“WA-WARLORDS!” he shouted with a slight break in his voice. They all broke hands and ran into formation. Josh turned to him. “Are you ok bro?” Andrew nodded overly enthusiastically, trying to deter his best friends concerns. Once again they took up the defensive alignment opposite Kingston. Andrew began making strategic calls. As he was doing so, his eyes met impeccably with the opposing quarterback. He stood staring in silence for a few seconds, his expression perplexed and zoned out. His team members began whispering amongst each other in bewilderment as they awaited instruction. Suddenly Andrew’s voice changed in tempo and speed. Frantically he began calling out a totally different play to the one that had previously been agreed on. His defence looked amongst themselves, confused but nevertheless compliant. Once in position they waited-waited for that all too familiar sound.
“HUT!”
Both sides reacted immediately, stampeding each other in a clash of titans. The sounds of crashing helmets and bodies taking heavy impact could be heard as both teams collided, vying for possession of the pigskin. As the heavier set defensive players held off their substantial counterparts, the leaner players began running back, honing in on their targets. Each player had a man to mark and Andrew knew exactly where he was headed. All eyes were now on Kingston’s quarterback, who was now free and without resistance to make a viable pass. Searching the field, he scanned the mess of red, purple, gold and black for an open team mate. His eyes darted left and right; then stopped. Zoning in, he spotted an unrestricted man deep in the left-hand pocket of the field..
Got ya; he thought and subsequently let go a throw that carried the entire effort and passion of his team with it.
As the ball left his hand, the entire arena stood to attention. A massive gasp could be heard as every person in the vicinity took a collective deep breath. Chants stopped, horns desisted. The atmosphere was so baron of sound; you could hear a pin drop. The Kingston Tech Coach was gripping his clipboard tightly, slightly hiding behind it. He nervously anticipated a catch that would seal the victory of his team.. His entire coaching staff and substitutes were already half way on the field ready to run on in screams of triumph.
Coach Stevens watched calmly underneath his cap. His eyes followed the ball with the vision of a hawk. Using his knowledge of the game he predetermined the angle of the ball, and looked ahead to find the unmarked receiver, open and ready to catch. With this sight, he felt that all hope was lost. Lowering his head into his hand he massaged the bridge of his nose in frustration. Quickly he gathered his thoughts.
Lord, please throw me a lifeline here. Please.
Around him, players and coaching staff could be heard awaiting the inevitable with distress in their voices.
Once the ball was in the air, players on both sides discontinued their defensive and offensive roles and looked on to what seemed like the final judgement of the game. All eyes were now on the receiver who had dodged all of his markers and was alone, free to make the catch and end the game. A sense of woe could be felt amongst the Whittaker fans. As the ball dipped with accuracy and seemed to get closer and closer to its intended target, the home fans dreams morphed into a nightmare. Sadness and despair could be felt dispersing through the home bleachers. Fans held their heads in their hands, others sat back down in their seats with a feeling of disappointment.
Adam and Jaime were amongst these fans. The attitude that was spreading over everyone was
contagious, and Jaime too hung his head in discouragement. As he did so, he felt Adam's elbow nudge him.
“Look.” He said; his voice so soft and subtle, yet sharp enough to cut the deafness of silence Jaime was undergoing. Jaime looked up and his eyes were met with an image of illuminating hope.
The mood had dropped so dramatically over the field. Everybody’s sight was so fixated on the ball reaching the receiver that nobody had noticed the figure that was tailing underneath it.
Andrew knew at this moment it was all or nothing. Somewhat similar to his cafeteria stunt, he knew he would have to make the dive to catch this ball and keep his teams dreams alive. He ran as fast as he could, tracking the ball above him and calculating the speed it was travelling and how far he was from the receiver.
SHIT, I’m not gonna make it. I’m not gonna make it. He fretted to himself.
Under pressure, he tried to stay focused and persevere.
As the ball seemed to get further and further from him, his mind suddenly reverted and the images he had previously seen of his team’s thoughts swamped his memory.
Unlike times before though, the voices didn’t seem to pain him. It was as if his brain was trying to remind Andrew who and what he was playing for. Every thought, every flashback sent a sensation that could be felt. The sheer emotions started taking over. His body began to feel different. Again, the eyes underwent metamorphosis. The steps he took became lighter and Andrew could feel himself covering more ground. Looking at the surroundings as he passed them, he noticed everything had decelerated around him. The ball, which seemed so far away, was now well within his grasp.
As he veered closer and closer to the ball, time began to speed up. He knew it was now or never. He threw himself through the air, hands extended.
The receiver waited with open palms and was ready to catch. His mannerisms oozed with confidence and self-assuredly he knew he’d be the player in the spotlight for making the decisive touchdown. The ball was headed straight for his position. This was it. The final moment. A glorious moment. All he had to do was catch it. Arms extended he embraced his destiny…
But to no avail.
Andrew suddenly appeared in the peripheral of his visor. The stretched outline of his body blocked out the sky and covered his view. He stood there, shocked, as the opposing quarterback’s body hit the ground with a dramatic and climatic thud, a few steps away from his feet. Andrew lay there for a few seconds. There was an instantaneous disturbance in the ambience of the arena. Failure and despair slowly faded away, only to be replaced by a sense of new found hope. Whittaker fans rose to their feet in awe of what was happening. Fans trembled with apprehension. Andrew was now the focus of everyone. He then rolled over slowly. Ball in hand.
The referee acknowledged the play, walked onto the field and with an astute voice yelled out over the PA,
“INTERCEPTION IN THE END ZONE. TOUCHBACK FOR NUMBER 7 ANDREW ROBERTSON. WHITTAKER FALLS RESUME PLAY.”
The home crowd gave off a stupendous praise. Horns blew and fans embraced each other in tremendous joy. Jaime grabbed Adam in a headlock and shook him. He relinquished his grip then squeezed him whilst screaming comments of encouragement in his face. They jumped up and down in celebratory fashion. The solitary chant “A.R” rang out through the air as Whittaker was still in the game.
All the subs and coaching staff literally lost their minds. Everyone was jumping up and down the touchline. Clipboards, water bottles and headsets were flying all over the place. And in an act out of the ordinary, Coach Stevens broke his icy exterior for the first time, flung his cap into the air, and screamed out to the heavens,
“YEEEES! Thank you God.”
The whole touchline turned in amazement and gawked at him. He quickly collected his emotions, picked up his hat and readjusted himself. Embarrassingly, he let out a slight cough.
“As you were.” He commanded and turned back to face the game; a small smile creeping across his face
Andrew lay on the ground, head in the dirt. He slowly looked up towards the ball in his hands and smiled. This turned into a gradual laugh...a laugh of jubilation and relief. Before he could gather himself to his feet, he was trampled by his fellow companions. They picked him up and submerged him in praises and celebratory back pats. Josh ran over, grabbed him by the skull and kissed his forehead elatedly.
“How the hell did you know he was gonna throw?! In fact, scratch that, how the fuck did you make that catch!?”
Andrew looked at him hesitantly but answered.
“I looked into his eyes man and it was like, it was like I could hear his thoughts. He literally spoke the play into my mind.”
Josh looked at him slightly worried but was too overjoyed and caught up in the moment to say anything.
They walked back to regroup.
He needed more time to gather his next steps so Andrew T-gestured to the touchline. Coach Stevens acknowledged him with a head nod then addressed the referee who authorised the final timeout for Whittaker. All the players now huddled around Coach.
“So what’s the plan, Andrew?” He looked curiously at his quarterback. “I am assuming you have one seeing as you just used our final timeout with 40 seconds left on the clock!” His voice had a tone of urgency to it.
Andrew poured a bottle of isotonic juice over his head to cool off and took a deep gulp to energise himself.
“I’m gonna throw.” He said between swallowing.
The entire group looked at him, insane doubt across their faces. Coach interrupted him abruptly.
“You’re gonna what now?! Because I don’t think I heard you clearly.”
Andrew repeated himself calmly and clearly. “I’m...Gonna...Throw.”
Everyone cowered in fear as they could see the expression that was developing on Coach’s face. He was about to unleash a tirade of abuse on Andrew.
“Boy, have you completely lost your damn mind?! We are in the last 40 seconds of the college state finals. Our asses are pinned up against the wall in our own end zone. Where the fuck do you think you’ll have enough space to even get a throw off?!” He barked at Andrew.
Andrew looked back at him with nothing but hope in his eyes and the will to win in his words.
“Sir, with all due respect running it is a bad idea. We have 40 seconds left and a very large amount of space to cover. That ball needs to make it up the field in a short space of time and only I can make that happen!” His words were filled with desperation but nonetheless he fully believed in his own abilities.
Coach sighed, twiddled his thumbs and took a moment of silence to think. The team followed him with their eyes, watching him earnestly as he paced up and down quickly. Anticipating an answer from their chief they waited anxiously.
He abruptly answered them,
“God damn you, Andrew. You got one shot at this, ONE! Do not let me down, ya hear.”
A huge solace fell over the team and they all reconvened back onto the field.
For the last time, they all huddled in for the final play of the evening.
“So boss, what’s the plan?” joked Josh.
“Well, I’m gonna need you to run and keep running.” replied Andrew.
“Errrm, Is that it?”
“Yep.” He said sharply. Facing the rest of the squad he carried on. “I’ll need the rest of you to keep me safe like your lives depended on it. I only have one shot at this boys, so let’s get it right and win this thing!”
They all grunted simultaneously and got into position. Andrew didn’t say a word. He didn’t call any plays out loudly. Silently he looked around taking in the raw splendour of the fragile atmosphere around him. Staring at his coach on the touchline, the players on the bench, referees, commentators, the other team, and then finally the faces in the crowds. As he studied each one, his eyes stopped dead. Louise’s distinctive features caught his eye as she was looking straight at him. Her smile comforted his fears and placed him at ease but for only a moment. He gathered himself and looked
down at the ball in his hands; knowing this was it. All or nothing.
He crouched down. Complete tranquillity fell over the field. The silence seemed to last forever until the noise of the whistle ripped through the air cutting through the still peace. Andrew darted up and backwards. Bodies were wrestling all around him. Amidst the confusion of anatomies, Andrew’s eyes searched for Josh, who was now free of his marker and running down the right side of the field. He was unmatched in speed and now open to receive a pass. However, he had travelled too far in such a short distance and the length of the throw was gigantic in magnitude. Coach looked on realising the distance was too much.
SHIT! He can’t make that throw, HE CAN’T MAKE IT! He thought.
Andrew honed in on Josh’s location but his concentration was diverted when an opposing linebacker broke through his line of defence. Then another and another. There were now 3 men, each significantly bigger than Andrew, heading straight for him. He began to panic, his head looking frantically for a way out.
As they got closer to his position he took a deep breath, closed his eyes and focused. A few seconds went by and these linebackers were in sacking distance of him. In the thick of all this however, a smiled crept across his face. His grip tightened on the ball and every muscle clenched into action. Opening his eyes revealed the fantastic crystal blue pupils. He gritted his teeth and started his advance towards them.
The first linebacker to reach him was met with a left-hander clothesline of such force his body spun 360 degrees in the air. Andrew held the ball firmly with his right hand. On this side approached another defensive back from the opposition. Andrew watched as he flung himself desperately at his direction, but the speed that Andrew was moving at gave him the upper hand and he jumped back, sending the Kingston defensive back soaring through the air; completely missing him in the process. There was one guy left in his way and he was headed straight for Andrew. The linebacker ran head first towards him, aiming to tackle his midsection and take him down to the ground. Andrew ran at him, not an ounce of fear in his mind. As they came closer to what looked like would be a train wreck collision, Andrew outstretched his left arm and used the linebacker’s momentum against him, forcing him downward and propelling himself up and over the tacklers head. He landed comfortably and was clear to throw. It was do or die now. Re-establishing his aim with Josh, Andrew cocked back his arm and with a monstrous roar he threw with every bit of strength he had left.
Nephilim Page 5
