Fourth and Forever

by Bert Carson

  Four minutes later, we stopped Portland State once again, and on fourth down, they kicked. Again, Samuelson moved the team down the field. At the Portland thirty-yard line, he led the Grizzlies to the line of scrimmage with a third down and long yardage for a first down. He took the snap from Denby and stepped back to set up for a short pass to Bobby for the first down. He never saw the PortlandState safety who crashed through the line and hit him from his blindside. Samuelson was smothered under the rush, and dropped the ball before hitting the turf.

  Tom Rice, our right guard fell on the loose ball, followed closely by what appeared to be half the players on the field. When the pileup was cleared, Rice had possession of the ball, but he stayed on the ground clutching his left knee. In the backfield, Samuelson was also left on the ground. The referee called an official time-out, and our trainers and medical staff ran onto the field.

  Chapter 16

  Jim called the play from the press box, “This is a devastating blow for the Grizzlies in the opening game of the season. Tom Rice, our starting right guard is down with what appears to be a knee injury and Jeff Samuelson is still down, and we have no idea of the nature of his injury. We’ll be back with an update after this commercial break.”

  *******

  Jimbo ran off the field directly to Coach Jenkins, gasping he said, “Rice twisted his knee. It’s minor, but he’s out for the rest of the game. Samuelson is…” he paused for breath, “…it’s a broken collarbone, Coach. He has to have the stretcher.”

  Grim-faced before the play, Coach Jenkins now looked like the sky moments before it dumps sheets of rain. He turned toward the bench and shouted, “Green… Daddy! You two get over here, now!”

  We had both expected the call, and were standing on either side of him in seconds. He put his hands on Howard Green’s shoulders and drew the big freshman second-string lineman down until they were face-to-face. “Son, I know you’re nervous, but you’re going to have to get over it right now. Rice is out for the rest of the game and you have to take his place. You can do it.” He slapped Green on the shoulder and shouted, “Now! Go for it!” With the command, Green headed onto the field at a solid gallop.

  Coach Jenkins turned to me, “Daddy, our worst nightmare has just happened. Jeff has a broken collarbone. You’re it! Portland will expect you to kick another field goal, but three points won’t win the game and we can’t afford to waste this field position. After the sack, we need almost twenty yards for a first down. Fake the kick, just like we’ve done in practice and hit Bobby in the flat. Make the first down, call time-out, and we’ll regroup.”

  Coach Jenkins slapped me on the back so hard the force propelled me onto the field. Somewhere between the sideline and the huddle, the last of the butterflies flew away, replaced by the same feeling of confidence I had experienced flying in Vietnam.

  As soon as I joined the huddle, the referee blew his whistle, starting the play clock. I looked at the anxious faces staring at me and said, “It’s going to be all right. Just play the way you’ve been playing, and we’ll win the game. A field goal won’t do the job so we’re going to fake it and go for a first down. Bobby, get open in the flat at the down marker. Make sure you have the yardage for the first down before you turn. Okay, let’s go.” We slapped hands and broke the huddle.

  The fans, still in shock over the loss of two key players on the previous play, were silent. The hand slapping that broke the huddle could be heard throughout the stadium. Sammy stepped off the distance for the kick, knelt and looked at me. I nodded and he began calling the signals. I stared at the spot where he would place the ball.

  ********

  Jim described the scene for the radio audience. “Fans, we are in big trouble. We’ve lost Jeff Samuelson our starting quarterback, and Tom Rice our starting right guard. His freshman backup, Howard Green, has replaced Rice, and a forty-four year old freshman that everyone calls Daddy has replaced Jeff Samuelson, our quarterback. It’s late in the game and it looks like we are going to try a long field goal. Even if we make it, we will still be one point behind.”

  Charlie added, “What you’re saying, Jim is its fourth and forever for the Grizzlies.”

  “You’re right, Charlie, if there has ever been a forth and forever situation, this is it.”

  *******

  Denby snapped the ball directly to me. The fake caught the PortlandState defense by surprise, but they recovered quickly, too quickly for Bobby to break into the open. I dodged one would-be tackler and began to entertain thoughts of carrying the ball myself when I caught a glimpse of Wright, running alone as he crossed the fifteen yard line. I stopped, set, and rifled a perfect spiral that he caught chest high, without breaking stride. He crossed the goal line untouched; the nearest Portland defender was standing flat-footed over twenty yards away.

  There was a long moment of silence before the fans realized what had happened. Then they erupted. By the time the bedlam subsided, I had kicked the extra point and the scoreboard displayed what proved to be the final score – Portland State 7 – University of Montana 10.

  *********

  “Charlie, I guess we’ve seen it all now. A forty-four year old kicker-backup-quarterback, almost single-handedly won the game for the Grizzlies,” Jim said during the radio wrap up.

  “Jim, we better hope that it wasn’t just luck because it looks like Daddy’s going to be the starting quarterback for at least the next six games. We just received the official word from the team doctor; Jeff Samuelson has a broken collarbone and will be out for at least six weeks.”

  Jim closed the show, “There you have it folks. Good news and bad news, from Washington Grizzly Stadium. Our starting quarterback is out for six weeks, but we won the game with a forty-four year old freshman at the controls. See you next week when the Grizzlies take on Northern Arizona in our first conference game of the season.”

  Chapter 17

  It was probably the most subdued victory celebration in the history of college football. After we showered and changed, Bobby and I drove to the hospital to get an update on Samuelson and Rice. At the admission desk, we were told that Rice had already been released and that Jeff had been admitted for observation and would probably be released the next day. Visiting hours had just started so we went up to his room.

  There were at least six players gathered around Jeff’s bed along with Coaches Jenkins, and Spencer, and Jimbo, the ageless trainer. Jeff saw us and called out, “Hey, Daddy, damn good game.”

  “You did the work, Jeff. I played less than five minutes.”

  He laughed, “But in those five minutes you won the game.”

  Before I could answer, a nurse appeared at the doorway. She took one look at the gathering in the room and called out, “Young, men. This will not do. I want you out of here right now. Two of you can stay, the rest of you have to go.”

  Brent and Jimbo stayed. The rest of us left the room and headed toward the elevators. Hunk was walking beside me. I said, “Look, Hunk, why don’t you come over to the house and have a coke, and maybe a hamburger?”

  Then, loud enough for everyone to hear, I added, “That goes for every one of you who wants to come.”

  By the time we got home there were several cars parked at the house, and a number of players already sitting on the front porch, wherever they could find a place to sit. Janet and Flexible were sitting on the porch steps.

  We didn’t have seating for everyone, but they didn’t mind. It was obvious the objective was to be together and beyond that, there wasn’t a plan. Hunk and Denby checked out the refrigerator and the pantry, made a shopping list and headed for the store. At the doorway Hunk said, “Hey, Flex, you want to go to the store?” Flexible was beside him in seconds.

  The conversation was muted and somber. I listened and quickly realized the underlying feeling was the season that had held so much promise was over.

  What happened next was spontaneous. I did not intend to make a speech. In fact, if I had thought about it, I p
robably wouldn’t have said anything. But I didn’t think about it. I just got up, walked to the fireplace, and sat down in the floor. Immediately, the conversations that had been going on ended. I looked at the faces staring at me and realized that whether I had intended to speak or not was academic. They expected me to say something. They expected me to make everything right again. I made eye contact with each player before I began. No one said a word. When all conversation stopped, and I knew that I had everyone’s attention, I began.

  “In a football game, every play after the first one is an adjustment. It’s an adjustment based on what has happened before and what the coach believes will happen next. He never has time to evaluate, only to adjust. That means the coach has to trust his gut. It seems to me that whether or not a coach trusts his gut is the key to the success of a team.”

  I looked at Baron and asked, “Tommy, does that sound right to you?”

  The lanky kid from Texas didn’t hesitate, “Daddy, my coach at Odessa once said that if he had to explain why he was doing something, he’d probably talk himself out of it.”

  A weak wave of laughter followed his words. When it faded I continued. “I didn’t ask to be the placekicker or the backup quarterback for that matter. In fact, I did everything I could to talk Coach Jenkins out of it, but you know how he is.” That got a few laughs, and I continued.

  “He got me when he told me that he knew I could do the job.”

  I paused and glanced at several of the players, all of whom were hanging on every word. “He’s told each of you that you can do the job, hasn’t he?”

  To a man, they nodded or said, “Yes.”

  “Do you remember how that made you feel?”

  Once again they all nodded or said, “Yes.”

  I grinned, “Well, that’s how I felt. Suddenly I knew that I could do it. Now, I’m going to be honest with you, I still believe I can do the job. I’m not Jeff and I won’t try to be, but I believe I can do the job if you’ll help me. I believe we can win, but it takes more than believing. We have to drag ourselves up, and do it.”

  Denby and Hunk had slipped back into the house as I was talking. They stopped beside the door, listening to everything I said, then, together they shouted, “Let’s do it.”

  I don’t remember much else that was said that night. Probably because I was too busy cooking hamburgers and French fries. I do remember that something shifted when Denby and Hunk said, “Let’s do it.” It was a difficult moment to describe. I felt the same way I felt the night I told Kathy that I had reenlisted. And, like that night, I knew everything would be alright. I knew that we would do whatever it took to finish the season the way we had visualized it from the beginning.

  **********

  Sunday afternoon I met Hunk, Brent, and Patty in the hospital parking lot. Inside we asked directions to the children’s ward, and then took the elevator to the third floor. Judge Traylor and his wife, Elizabeth, were waiting for us at the nurse’s station. After introductions, Elizabeth found Mary Lyons, the nurse-in-charge of the children’s ward. She explained to Mary that we would be working with the children, weekly and she asked her to show us around and give us some guidelines for our visits.

  Mary Lyons was all heart, wrapped in a businesslike package. She didn’t waste any time fixing the parameters for our visits. Looking at Brent she said, “I assume you are in charge of this project, Coach Jenkins.”

  Brent stammered then said, “Sure, if someone needs to be in charge.”

  “Someone does, Coach. And you’re that someone. Before you leave give me your address and phone number. Now follow me.” With that, she spun on her right heel and headed down the corridor.

  I looked at Patty who had a huge smile on her face. She winked at me, and we went with Mary.

  After a whirlwind tour of the ward, we ended back at the nurse’s station. Mary said, “Coach, give me your address and phone number now, before you forget it.”

  As Brent fumbled in his wallet for a card she continued, “Now, Coach, what day do you propose to make your weekly visits?”

  Patty answered for him, “Mary, we’ve talked about that and determined that Tuesday, evening, around 6 or 7 would be the best for everyone.”

  Mary thought about it for a few seconds and said, “That will work for us too. Let’s make it 6:30. It’s better for the children to know exactly when you’ll be here.”

  Patty looked at Brent, who had just found a card. He nodded, handed the card to Mary, and Patty said, “6:30 it is, Mary.”

  Mary removed a page from her clipboard and handed it to Coach Jenkins. “These are the guidelines for your visits. You’ll note as you read them that you do not need to bring anything. We have books and toys that you are welcome to use. If you want to bring gifts, don’t bring food items or anything that might possibly be dangerous for one of the children.”

  Coach Jenkins said, “Mary, several of the players and some of the cheerleaders have said they’d like to be involved. How many of us can come at any one time.”

  “Let’s limit it to eight at the start. Later we can revise the number up or down as we see fit.”

  Patty asked, “Is there anything else we need to know, Mary?”

  Mary’s businesslike manner disappeared. “Yes, above all else, remember this. Our patients are children. They are sick, away from home and scared. More than anything else, they need love. To love them, you cannot patronize them. Just listen to them. Listen to them with your heart and with all of your attention. Speak to them the same way, from your heart and with all of your attention. If you do that, then your visits will be rewarding for both you and the children.”

  She looked at each of us and then asked, “Do you have any more questions?”

  We shook our heads. “Good, then we will look forward to seeing you Tuesday evening at 6:30.”

  As we rode the elevator back to the first floor, Patty said, “Hunk, I know you didn’t intend for this to happen, but I want you to know that I’m glad it did.”

  Hunk grinned sheepishly.

  Coach Jenkins looked at his watch and said, “Daddy, Jeff is scheduled to be released right now. We are going to pick him up and take him to the dorm. We’ll see that he has everything he needs. I’ll see you at practice tomorrow.”

  As I walked out of the hospital into a perfect Montana autumn afternoon I thought, ‘It is amazing that seven months ago I thought my world had ended forever. Now everything is new.’ Then I thought, ‘Kathy would have loved this.’

  I smiled as I walked to the car.

  Chapter 18

  “Good afternoon, Grizzly fans. This is Jim Snow, with Charlie Jamerson. We’re set to bring you the University of Montana’s second game of the season. This afternoon the Grizzlies are facing conference rival, Northern Arizona. Northern Arizona is fresh off their big win over Northern Iowa last week. However, that isn’t the big news. The big news is our Grizzlies. They won their home opener last week against PortlandState and there is no place in the country you could have been and missed the story about how they did it.”

  “That’s right, Jim,” Charlie Jamerson, said as he picked up the broadcast, “The Grizzlies did it behind their backup quarterback, Josh Edwards, better known to his teammates as Daddy. Josh is, by the way, four years older than Coach Jenkins. Jim said there was nowhere in the country you could have been and missed the story. It even got coverage in Sports Illustrated. However, for those of you who may have been out of the country, here’s what happened last Saturday afternoon, right here in Washington Grizzly Stadium…”

  *******

  Two minutes before game time, Coach Jenkins addressed the team. “Before I say anything let me tell you this. The doctor says that Rice is good to play today, but I don’t want to take the chance and risk losing him for the year, so I’m going to give Howard Green the start. Tom might play the second half, we’ll see.”

  “Now, those of you who have played for me know I’m not big on a ‘rah-rah’ speech just before a
game. I believe the place to build enthusiasm is on the practice field and you’ve done that this week. The defense is looking fantastic and the offense is working well. There is one thing I do have to say, and you can be sure I mean every word of it. All week the papers have been full of stories about how lucky we were to win and most of them said it could never happen again. You’re not the players I’ve thought you were if you fall for that. Last week wasn’t luck. Last week was a team effort, a team effort from an outstanding team, not a lucky team. We lost Samuelson and Rice and that’s tough. However, we won. Not just with Daddy and Wright and Hunk and Denby, but with everyone, and I mean every single one of you, pulling together, pulling together despite the odds, pulling together when it could have been easier to quit. You did that because you’re winners. Not because you’re lucky. And you’re going to win today for the same reason. You’re going to win because winners never quit. Now let’s go and show them the truth about the Grizzlies.”

  ********

  The fans exploded when we ran onto the field. Denby had been elected game captain. He met the Northern Arizona captain at midfield. The referee introduced himself to the two captains and then introduced the two captains to each other. That done, he pointed toward Denby and said, “Captain Denby, call it in the air,” and he tossed the coin into the clear Montana autumn afternoon.

  Denby called, “Heads.”

  When the coin fell back to the turf, the referee inspected it and announced that it was indeed heads.

  From that moment, the game was never in question. Gene Jefferies, our kickoff return specialist took the kick at our goal line. Behind strong blocking, he ran the ball back to the fifty-yard line before being bumped out of bounds by the last Northern Arizona defender between him and the goal line.

  I led the offense onto the field. At the sight of Bobby and I running onto the field, Flexible, barked loud enough for the two of us to hear him. We grinned in spite of ourselves. Moments later, we were in the huddle, grins gone, ready to get down to business.