Emergency Quarterback

Table of Contents

 

 

The Hornets had two timeouts left and a little less than two minutes to work with. But they also had eighty-two yards to go.

Jason called a play that targeted Calvin as the receiver fifteen yards upfield near the sideline. “Preserve the clock,” he said. “Get out of bounds if you can.”

He took the snap and stepped back into the pocket, but the defenders were already closing in. Anthony and Sergio and the others were battling to give Jason protection, but white-uniformed arms were reaching high to thwart any passes and the red-uniformed Hornets were being driven backwards.

Jason darted to his left and managed to escape from the horde, but a linebacker brought him down after a three-yard gain.... More importantly, the clock was still running.

 

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First published in the United States of America by Viking, a division of Penguin Young Readers Group, 2005

Published by Puffin Books, a division of Penguin Young Readers Group,

Copyright © Rich Wallace, 2005

All rights reserved

THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS HAS CATALOGED THE VIKING EDITION AS FOLLOWS:

Wallace, Rich.
Emergency quarterback / by Rich Wallace.
p. cm. - (Winning season ; #5)
Summary: When the Hornets lose their quarterback for the season
and the replacement lacks the talent to take charge,
the coach picks a solid receiver as emergency quarterback.

eISBN : 978-1-101-17540-8

[1. Football—Fiction. 2. Schools—Fiction. 3. High schools—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.W15877Eme 2005 [fic]—dc22 2005004092

 

 

Set in Caslon 224 Book

 

The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

j
ason Fiorelli lined up at wingback and scanned the opponents’ defense. He wiped his hands on his muddy jersey as he glanced at the scoreboard: fourth quarter, 1:39. Time was running out. The Hudson City Hornets trailed, 14—7.

Quarterback Vinnie DiMarco called the signals, and Jason exhaled hard. He wanted the ball. The glare of the lights, the smell of wet grass, the tension in the bleachers and on the field—this was crunch time.

Shoulder pads collided as the ball was snapped, and Jason held his ground, waiting for the rush of defenders. A linebacker burst through the seam and Jason threw a glancing block that barely slowed him down. But that was the whole idea.

Jason drifted to his left as another defender scooted into the backfield. Perfect. The field was wide open.

And here came DiMarco’s screen pass, lofting gently toward Jason above the on-rushing defenders. He felt the almost weightless solidity of the football as it settled into his hands. And with that lightning-quick acceleration that made him such a dangerous receiver, Jason reached full speed in an instant and streaked up the field toward the end zone.

He had blockers at his side but he didn’t need them, racing along the sideline. His arm muscles were flexed as he cradled the ball against his chest, and his breathing was hard but steady as he put all his might into every stride.

His cleats gripped the slippery grass and every step got him closer. A frustrated cornerback made a futile dive at the ten-yard line, but Jason was out of reach. Touchdown!

He raised his fist and resisted the temptation to slam the ball into the ground, tossing it to an official instead and leaping into the arms of teammate Miguel Rivera. “Did it, man!” Jason yelled. “Got that ball and I was
gone.”

He looked up at the bleachers, expecting a wild ovation. But while the Hudson City fans were on their feet, most were staring out at the center of the field, where officials and coaches were huddled around a fallen player.

“What happened?” Jason asked.

“DiMarco got nailed,” Miguel said. “You didn’t hear the crunch?”

“Didn’t hear nothing.”

“You must’ve been running faster than sound. That hit was
intense.”

Players from both teams were circling around now, and the coaches were motioning for them to stay back. DiMarco had his helmet off and Jason could see that he was conscious, but he was lying flat on the field and his face was set in a grimace.

Jason stepped over to an assistant coach. “Knee?” he asked.

“Wrist,” said the coach, slowly shaking his head. “He got clobbered.”

It took several minutes before Vinnie was helped off the field. He waved to the crowd with his left hand but walked slowly along the running track toward the locker room, accompanied by a small group of adults.

Coach Podesta called the offense over. “Listen up,” he said with a stern expression. “Vinnie will be all right. We still have a game to win here. Everybody with me?”

Several players nodded. With all the confusion and delay, Jason had nearly forgotten that they hadn’t even tied the score yet. South Bergen still had a 14—13 lead.

“We have to go for two points,” Coach said. “We don’t have another kicker that I trust under pressure.”

The head referee had walked over. “Coach,” he said, “let’s get that team on the field.”

Coach nodded. “Wade, get the ball to Jason. Let’s go.”

DiMarco had not only been the quarterback, he was also the Hudson City placekicker. So the Hornets couldn’t go for the tie even if they wanted to. Instead, they’d try for a two-point conversion and a win. Wade Brigham would be at quarterback for the most crucial play of the year. The team’s unbeaten record was in jeopardy.

Jason grabbed the sleeve of Wade’s jersey and stared up at the quarterback’s pale eyes. “Don’t be a hero,” Jason said sternly, well aware of Wade’s tendency to run with the ball. “I’m doing a simple square-out in the flat. Get the pass near me and I’ll catch it.”

Wade didn’t say a thing. He just walked to the huddle, called the play Jason had insisted on, and lined up with the rest of the team.

Now the spectators were yelling. A South Bergen linebacker glared across at Jason, and the cornerback was coiled a few yards behind him. They knew where the ball was going.

Jason darted from the line and was met with a fierce shove by the linebacker. He stumbled but found his feet, feinting toward the center of the field, then charging toward the corner of the end zone.

He was open, but Wade wasn’t even looking his way. Instead he threw a wobbly pass in the direction of tight end Lamont Wilkins.

Jason changed direction and sprinted toward the ball. A linebacker batted at it, and it flipped wildly into the air, out of Lamont’s reach.

Jason had a chance. He dove headlong toward the ball, extending both arms in front of him and lifting his head to avoid ramming his face mask into the turf. He got the fingertips of his right hand below the ball, flicking it slightly toward him and cradling it with his left. He held on.

There was the whistle, the referee extending his arms above his head to signal a score. Two points. Hudson City had the lead!

Lamont and Miguel and big Anthony Martin all fell on top of Jason, smothering him in their joy.

“Incredible catch!” Miguel shouted. “It must be your birthday or something!”

“You are
the man!”
cried Anthony.

Jason trotted to the sideline and drank it all in. The cheerleaders were leaping and yelling, and the red-clad fans of the Hudson City Hornets were standing in the bleachers, pumping their fists and cheering.

The final minute was a blur to him: the kickoff, some long incomplete passes, Anthony’s massive sack of the South Bergen quarterback. When it ended, Coach Podesta lifted Jason in a bear hug. “You’re the best player I’ve ever coached,” he said. “That catch was amazing. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

P
layers were whooping in the locker room, celebrating the comeback victory as they pulled off their shoulder pads and cleats. Jason shared in the fun, his face set in that wicked half-smile of his that always seemed to be on the verge of laughter. But he had a nagging feeling that things were about to change. Vinnie was nowhere to be seen.

Coach came in and rapped his fist gently on a locker to get the team’s attention. “Great win,” he said, but his face was serious. “Vinnie’s been examined, and it looks like that wrist may be broken. And even if it’s only a bad sprain, there’s not much chance he’ll be ready to play again this season. There are only three games left.”

Jason looked around at his teammates’ shocked faces as Coach gave the grim news. But then his eyes fixed on Wade, who seemed to be fighting back a smile. He’d be getting back the first-string quarterback job he felt he deserved.

What a jerk,
Jason thought.

Jason had taken off his shoulder pads, so his red jersey hung loosely around his wiry frame. He grabbed his pads, helmet, and cleats and stepped outside, looking for his mom and dad. There was a cold, empty feeling in his gut.

“Great game,” said Mr. Fiorelli, patting Jason on the back. He was a tall man, very athletic like his son. They had the same wavy, wheat-colored hair, but Mr. Fiorelli’s was cut much shorter than Jason’s and was thinning on top.

Jason nodded. His mouth was set in a tight line, a big contrast to his usual easygoing expression. The DiMarco-Fiorelli passing combination was a huge reason the team was undefeated. Now, whiny Wade would either steal some of that glory or waste it.

“We’re in trouble,” Jason said. “Vinnie’s through.”

“Don’t think that way,” Dad said. “Somebody will step up.”

“Maybe.... We’ll see.”

“You must be starving.”

“Not really.”

“You will be. You can get a sandwich at home.”

“Okay if I go out instead? Me and Anthony and some others were gonna get tacos or something.”