Before you know it, it’s time for kickoff. You stand on the sideline talking with Dane. The Beast and the other team captains walk to midfield for the coin flip. The Crocs win the toss and will receive the ball first.
Right before kickoff, one of the volunteer “team managers” – a nicer way of describing the waterboys – comes up to you. Simon is tall and pale and doesn’t look like he belongs anywhere near a football field. “Backup QBs stand near Coach during the game. He’s looking for you.”
You give Dane a fist-bump and walk over to Dankert, who’s going over the first set of plays with the Beast. Coach pats him hard on the helmet and sends him out to lead the offense. Juan Garcia stands across from you, and nods coldly when you take your place beside Coach.
Juan’s the third-string quarterback and a junior. Even though you beat him out for the backup spot in summer practices, he’s got more experience, and he’s ready to take your place if you give him an inch.
On the first play of the game, the Crocs run a handoff to Norm Henderson, who earns eight yards, getting to the Crocs 39-yard line.
You know that part of the game plan against the Jackals is to throw deep whenever possible on second-and-short. You’re not surprised when Dankert calls a passing play out of the spread formation with both outside receivers running skinny post patterns, and both receivers in the slot running Out patterns. The spread formation doesn’t leave much pass protection for the Beast, but he can usually get himself out of trouble. On top of being one of the best high-school passers in the country, Bobby Brownstein is the fastest guy on the whole team.
The Beast takes the snap, and drops back. Leo Ralphie, the fullback, stays back in pass protection and holds off a blitzing linebacker on Bobby’s right side.
The Beast never even sees Jake Douglas, the Jackals all-state line-backer, launch himself like a jungle predator onto his back. It’s hard to tell if Bobby manages to tuck the ball under himself as he goes down face-first into the turf, or if the ball just gets stuck underneath him.
Douglas gets up and pounds his chest like a warrior. The Beast rolls to one side, and then quickly flips his body to the other. Without looking at you, Dankert pushes his clipboard against your chest and sprints out to the Beast, along with the other coaches.
There’s a circle of players around Bobby as the coaches attend to him. You watch with your mouth open. In all of your years playing football, you’ve been lucky enough to avoid seeing a teammate or opponent suffer a serious injury on the field. There’s no way to know how bad this is yet, but you can see that the Beast is still on the ground.
Once you get over the shock of seeing the Beast leveled so violently, you walk toward the teammates circling Bobby. You don’t get more than three steps before you feel a tug on the back of your jersey. It’s Juan. “What are you doing?” he hisses. “We gotta warm up.”
Juan’s right. It certainly doesn’t look like the Beast is going to stay in the game, which means you’re about to make your high school debut a year ahead of schedule. He jogs about 20 yards down the sideline, and then Juan fires the ball right at your chest.
As you throw lasers back and forth, you see that something has changed in Juan’s throws. “Nice spirals,” you yell. Even since summer practice ended a few weeks ago, his balls are coming in much better.
“You want something, you’ve gotta take it,” he says, and you know he’s talking about your spot. Losing the backup job to you might’ve caused some guys to give up, but Juan is using it as motivation.
Simon, the waterboy, runs up to you. “You’re in,” he says.
“Okay,” you say, trying to sound confident. You stand there for a few seconds and toss the ball back to Juan.
“You’re in right now,” Simon says. You turn back to the field and see Bobby walking off, holding his shoulder.
You walk up to Coach Dankert to get the play.
“You ready for this, Reardon?” he asks.
You nod.
Coach pulls your face mask close to his face. “You know every single play in here?” he asks, shaking his clipboard at you.
You look away from Dankert’s piercing eyes for a few seconds. When you turn back and don’t say anything, you see a look of concern wash over his face. He grabs Simon by the shirt. “Get me Juan,” he says to him. Then he pulls your face mask again. “I gotta know, Reardon. I’m not ready to give up this game just because the Beast is down. Are you ready for this … ?”
GO TO PAGE 8. You answer Dankert honestly, and tell him you still don’t know a few plays at the end of the playbook.
GO TO PAGE 48. You tell Dankert that you learned the entire playbook.
“I can’t do it,” you tell the Beast. “I had nothing to do with messing up your shoes. I’m not going to do something wrong just to prove it to you, or to Coach.”
The Beast looks at you and brushes past. He was no such qualms about opening Pollock’s bag. Bobby unzips the bag and finds a cleat wrench laying right on top. He picks it up, and tests it against his shoe. The wrench fits right over his cleats and he’s able to easily pop one out. He shakes his head and tosses the wrench back on top of Pollock’s bag.
You watch the Beast walk over to Coach and they talk for a while. You can see the disappointment on Coach Dankert’s face as the Beast tells him what happened. Dankert always talked about Pollock being the ideal team player. They had won two state championships together.
Coach walks over to you as you’re sitting at your locker. You expect a big, heartfelt apology. “We’re all good, Reardon. Just be ready in case I need you.”
As the team heads back out to the field to watch the halftime celebration for the former players, you see Coach talking angrily to Pollock. Pollock leaves the stadium and doesn’t participate in the ceremony.
Although you don’t get back onto the field against the Jackals, you feel good after the 35-13 victory. The Beast walks up to you afterward. “We looked good out there today, QB2, eh?”
“We did,” you answer. The Beast walks off without another word, but you feel like you’ve somehow gained his respect today. Although you wish you were the starter, there are worse positions than being the backup to the Beast.
THE END
You decide against saying anything to Coach. Being the backup quarterback is the best position for you right now.
You’re still throwing with Dane 10 minutes before kickoff when you hear Coach’s shrieking whistle. You turn around and see Dankert waving the players over excitedly with his clipboard. Coach isn’t one for big, inspirational pregame speeches. He usually doesn’t gather the players together until moments before the game starts.
Dankert waits for the last of the players to gather around. He’s holding a shoe in one hand. He looks worried. “All right,” he says. “Before I go crazy looking for my quarterback, 10 minutes before kickoff, do any of you know where Bobby might’ve gone? And why he would’ve left behind one his shoes?”
The players look around at each other with baffled looks. A few guys call out the last time they saw the Beast. No one’s seen him in the last half hour, since he and Oliver Pembratt were warming up together.
“Maybe you should call the police,” a linebacker calls out.
“They’re not gonna look for someone who’s only been gone a half hour,” Dankert answers.
One of the referees walks up to Coach. “I can’t wait any longer. I need your captains for the coin toss and rules,” the ref says.
“We just need a little more time,” Coach says.
“The other team isn’t willing to push back the time of the kickoff,” the ref answers. “You can forfeit and call the game off, or you can get me some captains at midfield.”
“There’s no sense forfeiting if Bobby’s not back in a few minutes. But that kid’s come through for me way too often for me to just hope that he’s gonna be okay. I need five or six of you to make a sacrifice and come with me to look for him. The rest of you, do your best to win the game. Coach
Cox will call the plays until I’m back.”
The Beast’s best friend, Oliver Pembratt, and another offensive lineman come out of the group and stand next to Coach. Then, there’s a long uncomfortable moment when no one else steps up. Finally, Brooklyn Dogar, a starting wide receiver, joins the group.
You wonder to yourself how many of the guys on the team have personal relationships with Bobby off the field. There’s no question that everyone respects the Beast, but maybe there’d be more volunteers if people liked him better.
You see Juan Garcia looking your way. If you volunteer, he’ll get to start the game at quarterback.
Even though Bobby hasn’t taken you under his wing like some upperclassmen might have, you feel connected to him. You’ve been coming to Crocs games with your dad at Jack Hanson Memorial Field for your entire life. And for the past two years, you spent Friday nights cheering on Bobby with the rest of the team’s adoring fans. You know rumors will start to fly the second the crowd notices that Bobby isn’t out there for the team’s first offensive play …
GO TO PAGE 5. You stay behind and play quarterback while Coach and a few other players try to find the Beast.
GO TO PAGE 57. You join the search party, and give up your chance to start the game tonight.
You take your chances, even though you don’t know the play. You go into the huddle, and try to hide the fact that you’re not sure what you’re calling. You know it’s a passing play, but that’s about it.
You dodge a bullet when Dane absolutely burns the guy covering him. He streaks up the middle of the field, and all of a sudden, it doesn’t matter that you don’t know the play. You’ve got a man wide open on his way to the end zone.
You pull the ball back behind your ear and air it out. With Dane’s speed, the only thing you can do wrong is throw the ball short. As the football sails through the air, you glance over to the sideline. Most people in the crowd are on their feet, waiting for the long bomb to fall into Dane’s hands. When it does, he walks into the end zone. You sprint over and practically tackle him. You’re excited and relieved. Your risk could’ve turned out very badly.
He presses his helmet against yours. “That’s the first of many!” he screams as you jog off the field together. “Sweet throw!”
The second half is a back-and-forth battle. You throw for two more touchdown passes, but it takes a last-minute field goal to win the game, 31-28. Your first win feels amazing.
On your way out to the parking lot, you see Sara waiting for you. She hands you a folded-up piece of notebook paper. “Read this later,” she says. “Once you’re at home.”
“Uh … okay,” you answer, as she turns away nervously. Then she turns back to you.
“You were amazing tonight,” she says, and kisses your cheek.
As you watch her walk back toward her friends, you can’t resist opening her note:
You going to the homecoming dance?
If you are, want to go with me?
Call me later …
XOXO, Sara
THE END
You trust your gut and change the play. Just as you anticipated, your receiver on the right, Brooklyn Dogar, bursts past their cornerback. There’s only a safety between him and the end zone, if only you can put the ball in exactly the right spot.
You manage to throw it well enough to be caught, but Dogar has to come back to the ball, which stops his momentum. The Jackals’ safety wraps him up after the catch, but the play manages to go for nearly a 30-yard gain.
You look over at the coach and can’t tell whether he’s impressed, or annoyed that you changed the play. Freshman quarterbacks don’t usually overrule their coaches. It’s first and 10 at your opponent’s 11-yard line. Your tight end runs over with the play call from Coach: a handoff to your fullback, Leo.
You can see in the huddle that Leo looks winded. He’s trying to catch his breath after following the last play as a blocker. You’re tempted to make a change again, and try to run it into the end zone yourself. The defense will never expect it, you think to yourself.
Calling an audible is one thing, but completely changing the coach’s play in the huddle is something else completely. You haven’t got time to run back to the sideline to talk it over with him …
GO TO PAGE 18. You run the play the coach called, and hand off to the fullback.
GO TO PAGE 39. You look into the eyes of every man in the huddle and call a quarterback draw right up the middle.
You decide to play it safe and take the hit.
After getting squashed like a pancake by the two defenders, you fall to the grass and barely hold on to the football. You take a loss of eight yards on the play and your ribs hurt, but you spring to your feet. As you go to get the next play from Coach Cox, you see the Beast headed onto the field, toward the huddle. Dankert is back in his normal spot on the sideline.
You pass the Beast as you slowly walk off the field, wishing you had gotten in for more than one play. “Where were you?” you ask him.
At first he just stares at you angrily. Most of the time, the Beast barely seems to realize you exist, but this is different. “Get out of my face, Fresh,” he says, bumping your shoulder as he passes. “I know what you did.”
You jog back to the sideline and stand next to Coach Dankert. “We found a couple of missing cleats from Bobby’s shoes in your locker,” he says.
“Coach, I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” you answer, and you really don’t know.
“You took all of the cleats off of one of his shoes so you could get a chance to start,” Dankert says. “What is this, nursery school?”
“It must’ve been the Jackals,” you answer. “They were probably hoping he’d miss some of the game.”
Coach looks at you with something in his eyes worse than anger. You can tell he’s disappointed in you. “It happened in our locker room, Reardon. You were the one with something to gain.”
“I didn’t do it,” you say. You walk between him and Juan Garcia to be by yourself for a second. Garcia, you think to yourself. Juan Garcia must’ve taken the Beast’s cleats.
Garcia has been acting sulky ever since you were named the backup, and he was stuck as the third-stringer. Juan’s a junior and it must’ve been embarrassing to him to get beat out by a freshman.
But, if Juan did take the Beast’s cleats, was there any way to prove it?
At halftime, the Beast finds you in the locker room. “What do you have to say for yourself?” he asks.
“Bobby, I wouldn’t … I didn’t … It wasn’t me,” you answer. You’re tempted to put your helmet on when the Beast grabs your collar and looks like he’s going to hit you.
“That was the first game I didn’t start since the end of my freshman season. I was going for the record, and now it’s ruined,” he says.
And then, it hits you. It probably wasn’t Juan.
“Where are the alumni players?” you ask him.
“I don’t know,” the Beast says. “What does that matter?”
You look over at the lockers being used by the former players. “Who holds the record for the most games started in Crocs history?” you ask him, even though you know the answer.
“Sam Pollock. Quarterback from ‘89 to ‘93,” the Beast answers. Never missed a snap.”
Pollock was one of the former players in attendance tonight, and one of the best in Crocs history. He’s a local legend, who now owns a video store in town. For all of his success as a Croc, he wound up quitting the team at Iowa State once it became obvious that he didn’t have what it took to make it in big-time college football.
You grab Simon, the team manager by the arm as he walks past you. “Did they give Pollock a locker for today, so he could change into his old uniform for the halftime ceremony?” you ask.
“Yeah,” Simon answers. “Why?”
“Just show us which one,” the Beast says.
Simon jumps into action once the Beast speaks up, and leads you to Pollock’s lock
er, where a gym bag sits on the shelf. You would never ordinarily consider looking into someone else’s bag.
“I already found the cleats,” the Beast says, “in your locker. What are you looking for anyway?”
You stop for a second before reaching for the bag. You know you didn’t remove the Beast’s cleats. And while it could’ve been Juan, giving you a chance to play quarterback didn’t sound like something Juan would want to do.
You have a big hunch that if you open Pollock’s bag, you’ll find something that proves you’re innocent. But, can you bring yourself to do it? What if you’re wrong?
GO TO PAGE 29. You tell the Beast that you won’t open the bag.
GO TO PAGE 65. You open the bag.
You decide to run the football. You look into the eyes of each player in the huddle. “Block for me, boys,” you say. “Please.”
You snap the ball, and drop back to make the play look like a pass. You pump fake – pretending to throw to your tight end. You wait another second, and now follow two blockers up the middle, into the heart of the Jackals defense.
Your delayed quarterback draw surprises the defense, and for a moment it looks like you’re going to be able to run into the end zone. Your blockers do their best, but you get hammered by one of the safeties at the five-yard line. The ball falls from your arm, and it’s picked up by, who else, Jake Douglas. Douglas runs with the ball 95 yards the other way for a touchdown.
By the time you make it to your feet, the Jackals are getting ready to kick off. Your head is pounding. The team trainer takes one look in your eyes and tells you to take a seat for the rest of the night. He’s worried you may have a concussion.
Juan Garcia gets his shot with you and Bobby out. You have a feeling Coach would’ve pulled you from the game even if you weren’t hurt. Dankert won’t make eye contact with you on the sideline.
Backing up the Beast Page 3
