QB 1 (20 page)

Even though the clock was stopped, Coach McCoy called his last time-out so they could all talk about it. Jake went running over, seeing Calvin with his helmet back on, rolling his shoulder, moving his head from side to side, obviously coming back in for what might be the last play of their season.

When Jake got to the sideline, Coach J said to him, “Son, you know this offense as well as I do. What do
you
think is our best chance?”

Jake had been asking himself the same question on the way over, had already come up with the answer.

First, he turned to Calvin.

“You said whatever it takes, right?”

“I did.”

Then Jake turned back to Coach J and Coach McCoy and said, “Our best chance is something that isn't
in
our offense.”

He told them what he thought they should do. Nobody said anything right away, even as Jake could see one of the refs jogging in their direction.

It was Coach John McCoy who said, “It might just be crazy enough to work.”

Turned around then and yelled at Casey Lindell to put his hat on. He was going in at quarterback.

“LINDELL TO CULLEN?” CASEY SAID AS THEY JOGGED TOWARD
the huddle, Calvin a couple of yards ahead of them. “On fourth down? In the championship game? Really?”

“We've done it before,” Jake said.

“We did it behind your barn!”
Casey said.

“Trust it,” Jake said.

“I haven't thrown a ball since I warmed you up at halftime,” Casey said.

“This time when you close your eyes,” Jake said, “picture yourself making the greatest throw of your life.”

“And I'm gonna be a damn
decoy
?” Calvin said.

“Yep,” Jake said, then knelt down in the huddle and told everybody they were going to try something a little different to save the day, on three.

As soon as Casey lined up at shotgun, guys on the defense started yelling, “Wildcat!” Jake went out and lined up next to Calvin on the right, Justice split out on the left with Roy Gilley, David Stevens in the slot. Jake looked at the defense with quarterback eyes, saw the safety and corner come up on Calvin, saw the extra defensive backs backing up, knowing the Cowboys needed a mile for a first down.

As soon as the ball was snapped, Calvin took off hard for the middle of the field, angling toward the left, where the other receivers were. Jake ran at half speed toward the sideline, the outside linebacker on his side eyeballing him, trying to see Jake and Casey at the same time.

But Jake was eyeballing him, too, and as soon as the kid turned his head, wanting to see if Casey had thrown the ball yet—he hadn't, he was eyeballing Calvin one last time this season, the way Jake had told him to—Jake ran as hard as he could down the right sideline.

The outside linebacker scrambling to catch up with him.

Too late.

Because now Casey turned his attention to Jake Cullen, his intended receiver all along.

Letting it go.

One of the extra DBs saw what was happening, but he was also too late, ended up seeing what everybody at Boone Stadium saw: the ball coming out of the night sky and into Jake's hands, Jake telling himself to look the ball all the way into his hands, catching it at the fifteen, almost losing his balance at the eight-yard line, recovering to break a tackle at the five, lunging forward with one Fort Carson Hawk grasping at his legs, finally getting tripped up.

But not until he fell into the end zone with the touchdown that made it 19–17 for the Granger Cowboys.

A Cullen making a catch this time instead of a throw to win the big game.

The rest of it was pretty much a blur, Jake handing the ball to the ref, getting mobbed by the guys as soon as he did, Bobby making his kick, Fort Carson getting off one play after the kickoff, a Hail Mary pass that Melvin batted down like he was spiking a volleyball.

Scoreboard said 20–17, Granger.

Like Calvin said:

Forever.

WHEN IT WAS OVER, JAKE MANAGED TO GET HIMSELF LOOSE
from Bear and Nate, both of them shouting that they wanted to stay in high school forever, and made his way through the crazy celebration in the middle of the field. There he found Calvin Morton standing alone at the forty-yard line, cool as ever, smiling, helmet in his hand, taking it all in.

“Sorry you didn't get to make the score this time,” Jake said.

“Only score that matters is the
final
score.”

“Must be getting old for you, C,” Jake said. “Winning these championships like you do, no matter who's throwing you the ball.”

“No, Cullen,” Calvin said. “I don't believe it's
ever
gonna get old.”

“You feeling all right?” Jake said. “I almost got you killed with that pass.”

“Didn't you, though?” Calvin said. “And me tellin' ever'body who'd listen how accurate you are.”

“Sorry,” Jake said.

“I'll let it go just this one time,” Calvin said. “Specially since it appears that I'm stuck with you for my immediate future.”

Calvin to the end: not
their
future,
his.

Jake said, “I'll get better.”

Calvin gave him a long look, then leaned forward, touched shoulders with him, and said, “Yeah, I expect you will.”

Calvin smiled now, put his arms around Jake, and said, “Just remember goin' forward: You throw.
I
catch.”

“Got it,” Jake said.

Calvin said he was going to find Melvin now, would see Jake at the trophy presentation. Walked away. Or strutted. Probably depended on your point of view.

A few yards away, waiting for Jake to finish with Calvin, was Casey Lindell.

Jake walked over to Casey now, who put out his hand right away. Jake shook it, and Casey said, “Congratulations, dude. You did it.”

“We did it.”

“You did the heavy lifting,” Casey said. “And the play calling.”

“All's you did was come off the bench cold and complete a fourth-and-twenty-five that if you'd missed, we would've gone home losers,” Jake said. “No, man.
We
did it.”

“Just wanted to keep playing a little while longer,” Casey said.

“What it's all about,” Jake said.

“You know I'm gonna come after you next season.”

“Wouldn't have it any other way,” Jake said.

Then Coach J was on Jake, out of nowhere, clean blind-side hit, lifting him in the air, like a kid himself now, yelling, “Maybe I should make you a wide receiver next season!”

“No, sir,” Jake said. “I'm a Cullen, which means I'm a quarterback.”

Jake looked past Coach J and saw his parents, Wyatt, and Sarah behind the Cowboys' bench. Somehow he made his way back through the players and fans and photographers and the reporters on the field, even a couple of television cameras. When he got to them, Sarah jumped over the bench, like it was one more of her cheerleader moves, and jumped into his arms, hugged him for all she was worth. Hugged him for the first time. Then got on tiptoes and kissed him.

When she let him go, she took a step back, frowning, almost suspicious.

“Who came up with that last play?”

Jake shrugged. “Guess I did.”

“You let Casey be the quarterback?”

“I did,” Jake said. “Gave us our best chance to win.”

“Wow,” she said.

Then she was running off to find the other cheerleaders, Jake watching her go, saying to himself, “Yeah. Wow.”

He felt a little shove from behind now, turned and saw Wyatt smiling, shaking his head.

“And the guy gets the girl, too,” Wyatt said. “I'm gonna have to step it up a little.”

Jake grinned, gave him a little shove and said, “Good luck with that.”

Libby Cullen gave Jake a hug of her own then, and said, “I knew you had this in you, Jacob. I always knew.”

Wyatt laughed. “Well, I sure didn't.” Then put out his right fist, pounded his brother some skin. “Seriously? I'm proud of you, little . . .” Shook his head. “Proud of you, brother,” he said. Then: “Who called the wildcat?”

“That would be me,” Jake said.

“Put the ball in the other quarterback's hands? On fourth-and-forever? Are you insane?”

“I gave him the ball,” Jake said. “But I didn't let him keep it.”

Libby Cullen said she was going to run over to congratulate Coach McCoy. Just Troy Cullen and his two sons now behind the bench at Boone Stadium.

Jake saw his dad smiling, but thought his eyes might be a little redder than normal, thought his voice was a little shaky when he finally said something.

“Good thing I had you and ol' Casey run those wildcats in the pasture that night.”

“Good thing,” Jake said, smiling at his dad.

Then Troy Cullen was pulling Jake close to him, those strong arms around him, wrapping Jake up, Jake trying to remember the last time his dad had done that. Now saying something, over the noise and music and cheering, something that only Jake could hear.

“Sure glad I saw this one,” he said.

“Me too,” Jake said.

Then they were walking toward where Libby Cullen and John McCoy were, the field somehow opening up for them. A photographer would snap a picture of the three of them, freezing that moment, Troy Cullen with an arm around the shoulders of each of his sons that would run in the
Granger Dispatch
on the front page, one that would eventually wind up framed at Stone's.

Maybe it was just the angle, or the fact that they were walking so close together. But it would look in that picture as if the three Cullen boys had somehow cast a single shadow in the lights of Boone Stadium.

MIKE LUPICA
has been called “the greatest sports writer for middle school readers.” He is the author of multiple bestselling books, including
Heat
,
Travel Team
,
Million-Dollar Throw
, and
The Underdogs
. As a sports columnist for New York's
Daily News
, a host of his own show on ESPN Radio, and a weekly member of ESPN's
The Sports Reporters
, which is televised nationally, he has proven that he can write for and speak to sports fans of all ages and stripes.

Mr. Lupica lives in Connecticut with his wife and their four children.