Last Man Out Read online

But the Titans’ fullback saw him coming at the very last second and slowed him down just enough to give Kevin an extra second to release the ball and throw long to his tight end, who’d found way too much open space in the area that Tommy normally would have been covering, was supposed to have been covering. Mike Fallon, one of the Bears’ new safeties, a wild man Tommy already loved playing with, came halfway across the field, launched himself through the air, and nearly tipped the ball, almost making what would have been an unbelievable play.

  But the ball streaked right over his fingertips and into the hands of the Titans’ tight end. With Tommy having blitzed, there was no one left in the backfield to catch him. He ran untouched the rest of the way to the end zone.

  Just like that, only four plays into the game, it was 6–0, Titans.

  The Bears stopped the conversion attempt, Greck batting down another pass Kevin tried to throw to his tight end. But the Bears were still in an early hole, all because Tommy had compounded something that wasn’t his fault—the penalty—with a play that had been all his fault.

  Coach Fisher motioned Tommy over from the sideline.

  “I’m going to tell you something you already know,” Coach said. “You should have been back in coverage. The reason I didn’t call for a blitz was because I thought they might go for a quick strike after the penalty, and I wanted my best defender defending the pass. But apparently you knew better than I did.”

  “I’m so sorry, Coach,” Tommy said, staring down at the ground, wishing he could dig a big hole and crawl inside it.

  “Son,” Coach said in a quiet voice, “sorry doesn’t take those points off the board.”

  “I just wanted to make something happen after that bad call,” Tommy said.

  “Well, you certainly did,” Coach Fisher said, and walked away.

  Tommy stayed where he was, turning his attention back to the game, almost hoping the Bears would go three-and-out on offense so he could get back on the field and redeem himself. But Nick took the offense on a long drive instead, mixing passes and runs, finally facing third down and five from the Titans’ eleven-yard line.

  Nick’s dad called a passing play intended for Danny Martinez. But this time it was the Titans blitzing, Nick getting hit from behind just as he was bringing his arm up to release the ball.

  The timing was perfect, at least for the Titans. The ball came out of Nick’s hand and went straight up into the air. When it came down, it fell right into the hands of the linebacker who’d made the hit. He didn’t hesitate for a second, taking off down the field. By the time the fastest guys on the Bears’ offense went after him, it was too late. The linebacker ran into the end zone untouched.

  Kevin Corwin got his team the conversion point on a bootleg. All of a sudden it was 13–0, and the Bears weren’t even out of the first quarter. Worse than that? Tommy felt as if he hadn’t even stepped on the field yet.

  “We’re getting our doors blown off,” Tommy said to Greck when they got back to the bench.

  “We’ll be fine,” Greck said. “We just got a bad whistle and some bad luck.”

  “We need to make some luck of our own!” Tommy said.

  Greck stopped and looked at him. “Don’t get mad at me for telling you this,” he said. “But isn’t that sort of what you tried when you blitzed Kevin?”

  Without waiting for an answer, Greck turned away and went to get a drink, leaving Tommy just standing there thinking:

  We having any fun yet?

  THIRTEEN

  TIME TO GET FOCUSED, HE told himself. Time to get in the zone.

  Tommy had been on the losing end of a bad call and then made things worse by going against his coach and deciding to blitz. But he’d just have to fight through it the way he was fighting through everything else these days. Every night before he went to sleep, lying awake in bed for what felt like hours, he told himself the worst thing that was ever going to happen to him had already happened. He couldn’t feel sorry for himself because of a stupid start to one football game.

  The Bears gained some ground on their next set of downs, Amare McCoy running the ball effectively, but Nick struggled to find open receivers, and Brighton was forced to punt.

  Kevin Corwin started off the Titans’ drive with two quick passes, each for about twenty yards, and just like that they were on their way to expanding their lead even more.

  It was second down and the Titans were already in Bears’ territory. As soon as the Titans broke the huddle, Tommy was positive Kevin was going to throw a curl to his slot receiver, who would be running his route in Tommy’s coverage area. The Titans had done it twice before when they’d lined up their slot receiver on Tommy’s side of the field. The last time they’d run the play they’d caught Tommy and the Bears in a blitz, leaving the slot receiver wide open, and gained twenty yards. Tommy wasn’t going to let that happen again.

  Coach wanted him to blitz again, but Tommy wasn’t going to do that. He was taking another chance, calling another audible for himself, not out of frustration this time, but because he’d been taught to read the field and he was sure he was making the right read on this play—even if he was going against Coach again.

  Tommy better be right. He had to be right. If he made another mistake, he might be punching his ticket to the bench for the rest of this game.

  But in that moment, Tommy wasn’t afraid. He’d been taught his whole life that you couldn’t play football scared.

  As Kevin dropped back to throw, Tommy saw Greck make his move, trying to get around the Titans’ left tackle. Tommy made his move at the same time, starting up the middle, showing blitz all the way.

  Then he stopped.

  Everything happened fast then, Greck closing in on Kevin, arms high in the air, Kevin releasing the ball as Tommy backed up to his left, covering the ground between him and the slot receiver, a kid Tommy knew from his baseball league, Brett Connors.

  By now Kevin had Greck right up in his face, so he didn’t see Tommy cut in front of Brett as the ball arrived. Tommy grabbed the ball out of the air, making the interception. He immediately broke toward the sideline, briefly thinking he might even score until somehow Kevin, not giving up on the play, managed to knock him out of bounds.

  When Tommy ran back to his sideline, he didn’t wait for Coach Fisher to come looking for him. This time Tommy found him first.

  “I know you’re probably mad at me,” Tommy said. “But when I saw the formation, I remembered they’d run the slot guy into my area the last time they had the ball and I was nowhere to be found.”

  Coach just stared at him, for what felt like a really long time, before he smiled.

  “You remembered that, did you?”

  “Yes, sir, I did.”

  “Good that you did. Because you were right, and I was wrong.”

  “There doesn’t have to be a right and wrong,” Tommy said. “Does there?”

  “Only when we’re keeping score in sports,” Coach said. “What matters to our team is that this time you were the one making the right call.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Now,” Coach said, “let’s see if you and your old coach can stay on the same page for the rest of this game.”

  Tommy hoped the turnover would get the offense going.

  On the third play after Tommy’s interception, Nick threw a ball to Mike Fallon, who Coach put in on offense sometimes. He was a fierce downfield blocker who loved knocking people down on offense as much as he did on defense. He also happened to be a terrific receiver. Nick launched a deep ball, as far as Tommy had ever seen him throw a pass, and Mike caught it in stride, looking like he might run through the end zone and all the way home to Brighton. On the conversion attempt Nick made a sweet ball fake to Ben Volin, one of their running backs, put the ball on his hip, and beat the Titans’ outside linebacker on a run to the goal line.

  Now the
Titans only led 13–7, Tommy thinking how easily it could’ve been 20–0 if he hadn’t made that interception. Football was like that sometimes. The game could change course in a split second.

  The score stayed the same into the fourth quarter. The Titans, as it turned out, were as good as Tommy and his teammates had heard. It had been a totally even game, a terrific game, even though neither team had scored for what felt like the last hour.

  The only difference between the two teams, Tommy thought, is me. And he didn’t mean that in a good way. If he hadn’t been called for that late-hit penalty, if he hadn’t blitzed when he should have stayed home, the Bears would probably be ahead instead of needing a score and a conversion to win.

  It was Titans’ ball at their own forty-nine, four minutes left in the game. In the defensive huddle Tommy said to Greck, “Now we really do have to make something happen. If they score on this drive, the game’s as good as over.”

  “This game’s a long way from over,” Greck said.

  Mike Fallon spoke up now. “And they are a long way from scoring.” He smiled, with a wild look he got in his eyes sometimes. “Plus, there’s so many more guys I need to put on the ground today.”

  Tommy and Greck grinned at Mike.

  Who’s having fun now? Tommy thought. He was still smiling as he walked into the huddle.

  As they broke the huddle, Tommy looked up into the stands and found his mom sitting with Greck’s and Nick’s moms. And then instinctively, unable to help himself, knowing this was a habit he might never break, he looked up to the corner of the bleachers where his father had always been, home or away.

  It was empty.

  That wiped the smile off Tommy’s face. In that moment, though, he surprised himself. He didn’t feel sad. Just really mad all of a sudden. Like he wanted to take out everything that had happened to him in the last week on the Watertown Titans. He could feel his heart beating inside his chest, could feel himself taking great, big, deep breaths as he walked over and took his position to Greck’s right, his fists clenched.

  Greck must have been watching him, because he turned and said, “You okay?”

  Tommy threw one of Greck’s favorite words back at him: “Gorgeous.”

  It was third and nine for the Titans. If the Bears could get a stop here, they’d get the ball back with enough time to try to tie or win the game. When they broke their huddle, Kevin was in the shotgun. Coach went through his hand signals like a third-base coach in baseball, finally putting out one finger as he dragged his hand across his shirt. It meant he was signaling a straight blitz, from all three of his linebackers, telling them to just pick a lane and go, ready to force the action one more time.

  With the game on the line, Tommy, a monster back, wanted more than anything to make a monster play.

  Tommy knew he had Kevin’s cadences down cold by now. Sometimes you didn’t just read with your eyes. You read with your ears, too.

  But Tommy didn’t trust himself to try to jump the count, afraid of getting an offsides penalty. He came hard when the ball was snapped, but he’d lost something by not jumping the count. Still, he blew right past the Titans’ left tackle, the blind-side tackle, giving him a head fake like he might go outside, but went inside instead. As Kevin stepped into his throw, Tommy was raising his own arms at the same time, trying to get a piece of the ball.

  But he whiffed on it, and Kevin got the pass off just in time. Tommy was a step late, because he’d hesitated just enough right before the snap.

  The pass sailed through the air, intended for the Titans’ tight end . . . and landed out of bounds.

  Before Tommy could stop himself, though, his momentum took his body forward, and he landed on Kevin as Kevin finished his follow-through. Tommy tried to wrap Kevin up and keep him from falling. It wasn’t even that hard a hit—Tommy had put enough good licks on quarterbacks since he’d started playing football to know the difference. But Kevin fell backward and out of Tommy’s grasp, trying to make sure the ref thought it was a late hit. The contact seemed so much worse than it had actually been.

  And Kevin got exactly what he wanted.

  Whistle, flag.

  Tommy would have been better off jumping offsides.

  Another fifteen yards, another Titans’ first down on what should’ve been the end of a drive, because of a Bears penalty.

  No, check that. Not a Bears penalty. A Tommy Gallagher penalty.

  Tommy didn’t help Kevin to his feet, because he was watching the ref walk off the penalty, like the ref had broken into the clear with the ball, and there was nothing Tommy could do to stop him.

  Tommy heard Kevin say, “Tough break.”

  Tommy turned to him and said, “Tough acting job.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “Figure it out.”

  “Are you accusing me of flopping?” Kevin said.

  “No need to accuse you of something I saw with my own eyes.”

  “Right,” Kevin said. “Guess I must’ve hit myself late.”

  Without another word he headed back to his huddle and Tommy walked slowly back to his. He should’ve been walking back to the Bears’ sideline watching the Titans’ punt team come on the field. But the Bears’ defense stayed on the field and that was squarely on Tommy’s shoulders.

  The Titans kept the drive going, getting another first down when Kevin scrambled away from Greck and stayed inbounds long enough to get to the chains. They ran it three more times in a row after that. On third down Tommy made a great shoestring tackle on the Titans’ fullback, but the kid managed to stay on his feet long enough to fall forward across the marker for another first down.

  Coach Fisher finally called his second time-out with just over two minutes to play. By then the Titans had a second down at the Bears’ twelve. Greck and Tommy, defensive co-captains, jogged over to him.

  “I don’t have much, guys,” Coach said. “Either they make a mistake or we force one.”

  “We’d already have the ball back if it wasn’t for me,” Tommy said.

  “You’re right about that,” Coach Fisher said.

  Thanks for not sugarcoatting it, Coach, Tommy thought.

  “But we can’t do anything about what’s already happened,” Coach said. “If those boys get a first down now, the game’s over. Get back out there and see if you can make something happen.”

  Kevin pitched to their fullback on second down, for no gain. Third and five, still at the twelve. Coach called his last time-out, stopping the clock again.

  On third down Kevin kept the ball on an option play to the right, ran into traffic, and then ran straight into Greck, who stopped him a yard short of the first down.

  Fourth down, clock running, just over a minute left. One last chance to make a play. With the Bears out of time-outs, Kevin would be able to run out the clock if the Titans got a first down.

  Tommy was ready for him. Ready to take Kevin down hard and make him fumble. Or slap the ball out of his hands. Anything to force a turnover and make up for the mistakes he’d made and the calls that had gone against him.

  Kevin let the play clock run down to five seconds before he took the snap from his center. He didn’t hesitate for a second, didn’t fake a pass or look to either side, he just bulldozed right up the middle, and snuck for the first down, like he was Tom Brady, who never got stopped on a quarterback sneak.

  Kevin took two knees after that and the clock ticked down to zero.

  Game over. Titans 13, Bears 7.

  First loss of the season.

  But to Tommy it felt like more than that. A lot more. He’d told his mom this was just another big game in a long line of them. But right now it felt bigger than ever, because he knew the loss was squarely on his shoulders.

  All on him.

  He felt like he’d taken a huge blow to the gut. Almost like he’d put a l
ate hit on himself.

  FOURTEEN

  AFTER THE GAME WAS OVER everybody stayed away from Tommy for a while, probably realizing there was nothing they could say to make him feel better. They’d all seen what had happened. They all knew the last flag had stolen their final chance to win the game.

  Finally Greck came over and asked if Tommy wanted to hang out later. Tommy said he couldn’t, using Emily’s soccer game as his out. It was the last thing he wanted to do, but he still planned on going to watch his sister play. He felt he owed her that, and knew how much his mom wanted him there.

  Once Greck broke the ice, Nick came over, too, looking like he felt bad for Tommy, but trying his best to hide it.

  “Hey,” Nick said, “it’s never just one play that loses a game.”

  “I hear people say that all the time,” Tommy said. “But there’s plenty of times when one play loses—or wins—a game.”

  “I had chances to make plays all day,” Nick said.

  “Yeah, but if I hadn’t committed one more dumb penalty,” Tommy said, “you would have gotten the ball back with plenty of time left. I blew it.”

  “It was just one game.”

  “One game that might end up costing us a chance at the championship.”

  “Lot of season left,” Nick said. “Start thinking about next Saturday.”

  “Might as well,” Tommy said. “Anything’s better than thinking about this Saturday.”

  Tommy knew Nick was just trying to make him feel better. But in the moment, Tommy didn’t want to feel better. He knew what he’d done and knew the loss was on him. Most of all, he knew he had to wear it.

  Coach John Fisher motioned Tommy over now. Tommy was waiting for a lecture, but didn’t get one.

  “I don’t think it was a late hit, for what it’s worth,” Coach Fisher said. “You hit the quarterback on his follow-through, and that shouldn’t be a penalty, at least not to my mind, when it’s called correctly.”

  “Thank you.”

  “That wasn’t your mistake,” Coach said. “Do you know what your mistake was?”