Fourth and Forever

by Bert Carson

  “Sure, Coach, I’ll consider it. In fact, I’ll do it if I can.”

  “Oh, you can. I just lost my starting placekicker and now the only kicker I have is my freshman punter. He’s young, and he has no experience placekicking. To complicate matters, I don’t have a kicking coach. I know you can kick and from what I’ve seen of Bobby in the last two days, you can coach, too. Would you take some time to work with our kicker? You might be just what he needs.”

  “Coach, I don’t know if I can help him or not, but I’m more than willing to try. When do you want me to start?”

  Brent smiled, “I was hoping you’d say that.” He looked at me closely. “Since you’re dressed for a workout, why not start now?”

  Without waiting for a reply, Coach Jenkins turned back toward the field and shouted, “Hey, Jimbo, JIMBO! Bring Thompson over here.”

  Sammy Thompson, a freshman, was tall, lean, and slightly stoop shouldered. As he trotted across the field with the trainer, I knew that his issue wasn’t placekicking but an extreme lack of self-confidence. Something I had seen too often in student pilots.

  I quickly confirmed Brent’s suspicion. As the punter for his high school, in Butte, Montana, Sammy had never kicked so much as a single extra point or tried a single field goal. He wasn’t happy about the possibility that he might have to do both. I worked with him for a week, a week of frustration for both of us.

  ********

  Finally Sammy said, “Mr. Edwards, I know you mean well, but the truth is, I’m just not a placekicker and I don’t want to be one. I want to punt and that’s it.”

  “Didn’t you know this might come up when you signed your scholarship agreement?”

  “It never crossed my mind, Mr. Edwards. Coach Jenkins had a great field goal kicker who was a junior. Last week he called the Coach and said he was going to have to drop out of school for a year for personal reasons. I can see how that puts the Coach in a bind, but I’m not the answer to the problem.”

  After practice, Coach Jenkins walked off the field with me. “Well, what do you think, Josh? Is Sammy going to be our placekicker?”

  “Coach, I suggest you talk to Sammy to get the details. However, I will tell you this, he won’t be your placekicker until he decides he wants to do it…and even then it’s going to take a lot of work.”

  “Thanks, Josh, I appreciate you taking the time to work with him, and I appreciate your honesty.” Coach Jenkins started to walk away then stopped and turned back. “Josh, would you mind coming to practice tomorrow?”

  I’m sure I had a puzzled look on my face when I answered, “No problem, Coach, but I’m not sure there is anything else I can do.” In the back of my mind I thought the coach must have another player with some kicking experience that he wanted me to work with.

  He confirmed my suspicion when he said, “I know, Josh, but I may have another solution and I would like to discuss it with you then.”

  “Sure, coach, I’ll be here.”

  When I got to practice the following day, I saw Sammy Thompson, in the corner of the field, practicing punting. Then I noticed Coach Jenkins standing on top of “the tower,” a twenty foot tall framework of pipe and steel channel iron with a wooden platform on top. From the top of the tower, the Coach could see everything that was happening on the practice field. I started across the field toward Thompson and I heard Coach Jenkins shout, “Hey, Josh! Josh, can you come over here for a minute?” I reversed my direction and jogged around the edge of the field toward the tower as Brent began climbing down. I arrived just as he stepped off the ladder. We shook hands and Brent said, “Now, Josh, don’t interrupt me until I’m through. I want you to hear my whole plan. I talked with Sammy last night, and you’re right; he isn’t going to be our placekicker. There’s no one else on the team who is even close to being qualified for the position. There is no way we can go into the season without a placekicker. It’s bad enough that I don’t have a backup quarterback.” That thought made him pause; almost cringe. He continued, “I’ve got the answer. It’s been staring me right in the face all the time. Josh, I want you to be our placekicker.”

  I was too stunned to say anything. Finally I recovered, laughed lightly and said, “You’ve got to be kidding, Coach. I’m forty-four years old. I’ve never played anything except sandlot football. I’ve never kicked the ball from a snap, much less with a line rushing me. Coach, I’ve never even had a football uniform on…”

  “Josh, I know all of that, and on the surface, it doesn’t make sense. However, I’ve been watching you and I know you can do it. Age doesn’t matter and we can teach you everything you need to know about the technical end of the game. Josh, you flew helicopters in Vietnam, I can’t imagine you intimidated by a few kids trying to block a kick.”

  Before I could respond, Coach Jenkins added, “At least, give it a try. If you don’t do it, I don’t know what I’m going to do. This team has the most talent of any team I’ve ever coached, but without a placekicker we might as well write this season off before it even begins.”

  “Okay, Coach, I’ll give it a try. What do I have to lose? I guess the worst that could happen is I’ll look like an idiot, and I’ve done that before and survived. However, let me make a suggestion.”

  “Sure, Josh, go ahead.”

  “Restart your search for a kicker.”

  He laughed, and said, “I’ll do it.” We shook hands and just like that, I became the Grizzlies’ placekicker.

  Chapter 12

  Within minutes, Jerry Jefferson, known as “Hunk” to all the players, was snapping the ball and Sammy was holding, something he did in addition to his punting duties. After missing the first couple of tries from forty-yards, I began to get the feel for watching the ball as it was snapped, then caught and held by Sammy. My accuracy returned as my confidence grew.

  Within half an hour, I had moved to forty-five yards and was making nine out of ten at that distance. I was preparing to move to fifty yards when I heard the coach call, “Josh, you and Sammy and Hunk come over here.”

  The three of us jogged back to the center of the field where most of the team was gathered. Coach Jenkins quickly formed the players into a defensive and an offensive team. “Oh shit, Hunk muttered when he saw the arrangement.”

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “I’m not a center, I’m a guard. Denby is the regular center but Coach has moved him to the nose guard slot. That means I’ve got to block him and I can tell from here that he’s mad as hell about me snapping the ball instead of him.”

  “It’s just a practice, Hunk. Don’t worry about it. Just make sure you get the ball to Sammy.”

  “That’s easy for you to say, Mr. Edwards, you don’t have to block Denby,” Hunk whispered as we approached Coach Jenkins.

  Eric Spencer, the Offensive Line Coach, lined Hunk up at center. He then spotted Sammy in position to hold for a forty-yard field goal try, and blew his whistle. When he had a semblance of order, he announced loudly, “Listen up everybody, Josh Edwards is going to try out for kicker. He has never kicked in a game before, so for the first three tries, no rushing beyond the line of scrimmage. Sammy will call the signals. Everybody get in position, and remember, don’t cross the line of scrimmage. Hunk, snap on two.” Spencer turned to me, “Okay, it’s all yours, Mr. Edwards.”

  I nodded to Sammy, who turned toward Hunk and began calling the signals. The kick was perfect, as were the next two. I began to relax a bit. Eric blew his whistle again and shouted, “Listen up, this time defense, I want you to rush. Hunk, snap the ball on three.”

  Once again Sammy called the signals. I lowered my head and focused on the place where I knew the ball would be spotted. A split second after Sammy called out, “three,” I was startled to hear another shout. I took my eyes off the ground and saw that Denby had rolled Hunk onto his back and was charging toward Sammy. The scene was almost comical.”

  Sammy saw Denby a moment before the ball reached his outstretched hands. That broke hi
s concentration and the ball flashed through his hands and began rolling toward me. Denby, totally focused on the ball, swerved away from Sammy and headed toward me.

  With the ball rolling on the ground, and Denby close behind it, I knew I couldn’t get the kick off. I scooped the ball up and dodged away from Denby, took three steps to the right and spotted Charles Wright, standing alone in the flat. Without a conscious thought, I cocked my arm and rifled the ball to Wright, who was so surprised that he didn’t lift a hand to try to catch it. The ball bounced off his shoulder pad with a loud pop. That was the last sound on the field for at least ten seconds.

  Everyone seemed frozen in position. A whistle and then a shout from Coach Jenkins shattered the silence. “That was fantastic, Josh, can you do it again?” Before I could answer, he was barking orders. “Denby, you snap the ball this time, only don’t snap it to Sammy. Snap it straight to Josh. Josh, keep your eyes on Sammy until the last moment, then look up, take the snap, and throw to Wright. Wright, you move ten yards down the field and hook back to the middle. Let’s do it.”

  The play worked every time we tried it. After thirty minutes of fake kicks, we went back to real kick practice. Even with the line rush, I only missed one out twelve from forty yards.

  After practice Coach Jenkins caught up with me on the sideline, “Josh, I knew you could do it. Now will you take the position?”

  I hesitated, then asked, “Are you sure there’s nobody else, Coach?”

  “Believe me, Josh, if there were, I wouldn’t ask you.” He paused, then said, “That’s not true, Josh. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a kicker with your ability. I would ask you, even if I had already signed a kicker. Which reminds me, I have a scholarship if you would like to have it?”

  I laughed, “I’ll bet I’m the first forty-four year old ever offered a football scholarship. I’m flattered, Coach, but I don’t need it, I have the GI Bill to handle my tuition and books.”

  “I figured that’s the way it was, but I wanted to make sure. By the way, you don’t mind if I give a scholarship to Bobby, do you?” Before I could answer, he laughed and walked away.

  At home that evening Bobby said, for at least the third time, “Daddy, I still can’t believe it. I got a football scholarship!”

  “Believe it, Son. You’ve worked hard and you’ve earned it.”

  Bobby continued as though he hadn’t heard, “And you made the team too! That is too much!” With that final observation, Bobby bounded up the stairs to wash up for supper. Flexible, no longer willing to go up the stairs behind Bobby, passed him just before he reached the first step.

  After supper, Bobby took Flexible out for a walk. I knew that they would happen to meet Janet, who adored both Bobby and Flexible. I smiled at the thought, and then I recalled the unexpected events of the day, Bobby’s scholarship and my making the team. ‘Bobby’s right, this is, too much!”

  As I often did, I thought, ‘If only Kathy could see all of this.’

  *********

  Every day I practiced field goals and fake field goals with the team. After two weeks of practice, Coach Jenkins called me into his office one afternoon. “Josh, we are only a few weeks away from our first game, and my roster is locked in place: There won’t be any additional players and I don’t have a backup quarterback. I’ve looked at everybody on the team who has any quarterbacking experience at all, and I do mean any. That includes two guys who quarterbacked in the Pop Warner League. Josh, there just isn’t a backup quarterback in the bunch. Samuelson is the best starting quarterback I have ever coached, but I can’t start the season without a backup.”

  “I agree, Coach. What are you going to do?”

  “That’s why we’re talking, Josh.”

  “Hold it, Coach! Kicking is one thing; I can handle that…but quarterback? Coach, you know I’ve only played sandlot football. I wouldn’t know where to start. Besides, I’m older than you are, four years older to be exact. Whoever heard of a quarterback that was older than his coach?

  “Look, Josh, I’ve considered all of that? I’ve also considered every other possibility and you come up as the logical choice every time. You’ve been practicing with the starters and you have the confidence to do the job. You may be forty-four years old, but that doesn’t seem to bother you, and it sure doesn’t bother me.”

  There was silence in the room. Coach Jenkins leaned back in his chair and looked me straight in the eyes. It was obvious he wasn’t going to say anything else. It was my turn to talk. Finally, I broke the silence, “Okay, I’ll give it a try. But I’m not guaranteeing anything.”

  “That’s fair, Josh.” I stood and he handed me a large, black, loose-leaf binder, “Here’s the playbook. Starting tomorrow, in addition to your regular kicking practice, you are going to work thirty minutes a day, at quarterback, with the starting team.” I took the playbook and walked out of the door shaking my head.

  ********

  I began studying the playbook as soon as I got home. Bobby had gone straight from practice to meet Janet. When he came home, Flexible and I were walking, so he went straight to bed without knowing that I was going to be the backup quarterback. Late for a class the next morning, he ran down the stairs, shouting toward the kitchen, “I’m late, Daddy, no time for breakfast; I’ll see you at practice.”

  I looked at Flexible and said, “It looks like you lucked out.” I reached for the plate of scrambled eggs, bacon and toast that I’d prepared for Bobby. As I placed it on the floor in front of the dog I said, “And it looks like Bobby is in for a surprise this afternoon.”

  That afternoon, kicking practice was routine. At the end of the field goal and fake-field-goal practice, Coach Jenkins blew his whistle and called both starting offensive and defensive teams over to the foot of the tower. “Listen up guys; you have been working with Josh, Mr. Edwards, for over two weeks now. You know he can kick and pass. You also know that we are a little over a month away from our first game and we don’t have a backup for Samuelson.” He nodded toward the starting quarterback, “Jeff is good, but we’ve got to have a backup. I’ve talked with Josh, er…Mr. Edwards, and he’s agreed to give it a shot.”

  As Coach Jenkins paused for breath, Bobby, involuntarily gasped, “Daddy’s going to be quarterback!” His words echoed across the practice field. Then Denby and Wright picked it up, “Daddy’s going to be quarterback! Daddy’s going to be quarterback!” They chanted in unison.

  Coach Jenkins let the outburst continue for a moment, finally blowing his whistle to reestablish order. Then he nicknamed me for the rest of my football career. “That’s right, Daddy is going to be our back-up quarterback, and I’m glad we have him.” That brought a round of applause, sprinkled with a few cheers. Coach Jenkins waited for order to return, and then said, “Now let’s go through the two-minute drill with Daddy running the offense. Samuelson, you stay behind the play and give Daddy all the help he needs. All right, let’s go! What are you standing around for?”

  Passing the ball on the fake kick play was one thing. Running the team and calling the signals was another matter. I was reminded of my first days of flight school; when, I wondered if I’d ever catch on. Every day, for the next week I worked thirty minutes in the quarterback position. Having Jeff behind me, giving pointers was a brilliant idea. With his help everything began to fall into place. Reading the defenses and learning the plays was the most complicated part. However, even that began to make sense. After a couple of weeks, I felt almost comfortable in the position. Despite my growing comfort level, I reassured myself with the thought, ‘I’m just the backup. The odds are that I will never run a play as the quarterback, so it will never matter anyway.’

  Chapter 13

  Five weeks before our home opener, the rest of the returning players joined us. After a light loosening and warm up session, Coach Jenkins called all of us to the tower. “Listen up. We have finished the freshman and walk-on work and the whole team is together for the first time. Look around you. This is it; this
is the 1992 University of Montana Grizzly Football Team. Each of you has worked hard to get here. Nobody is here who cannot do the job. We have the talent to win it all, but it takes more than talent; it takes talent and hard work.”

  He scanned the group and seemed to make eye contact with everyone. “We have five weeks until our first game. Five weeks sounds like a long time and maybe in some things it is, but Division 1 football isn’t one of them. Our season will be determined by how we practice for the next five weeks. We can’t afford to waste a day, not a single day. Nothing less than your best will do. Do you understand?”

  In unison, we responded, “YES!”

  Those of you who just joined us might have noticed that Fraser, last year’s freshman quarterback isn’t here. He had planned to be here and I planned for him to be here, but he had some personal issues come up a few weeks ago and he won’t be joining us. Those things happen; we have to go on, and we will. In fact, we have been most fortunate in that regard. Josh Edwards, who we call “Daddy,” has agreed to be our placekicker and backup quarterback. Besides everything else that we have to do to get ready for the season, we have to finish getting Daddy up to speed as Jeff’s backup, so for thirty minutes at every practice, Daddy will run the team. He has been doing that with Jeff running behind him whispering quarterback secrets. Beginning today, Jeff won’t be there and defense, I want you to go after him like he’s the PortlandState quarterback. Now, let’s go.”

  ********

  In the huddle, I called the first play, a pitch back to Wright, the tight end, as we swept right. “All right, let’s go.” We slapped hands as we broke the huddle. On the line, I called the signals. Denby snapped the ball. I turned to the right and saw the left side linebacker move untouched past Hunk. In another half second, he had me firmly in his grasp. Coach Jenkins blew his whistle in time to save me from being slammed to the ground.