"Just need to borrow it for a second," I say. He hands it over, and on the two-inch wide tape I write a big 'WN' on it. I wrap it around my left bicep, closest to my heart, and head out to do the coin flip.
I see it in the Northern captains' eyes as we stare at each other across the gap between us. Northern tried to intimidate us by sending out the entire group of seniors on the offense, including their big fullback. But one look at me, and their swagger dims. "Call the flip, Sounders."
"Heads."
"The coin is tails. Silver Lake, you have the call. What do you want?"
"Defer to the second half. Let them choose their way of defeat."
My words rattle them, I can tell, and after we're done, I turn to go back, giving the Sounders my back first, and go to the sidelines. The band starts up the fight song, and it's show time.
I've never played harder in my life, and we need every bit of my effort. It's not just me, though, as Gabe blasts the line for hard chunks of yardage, and Russ is a Grim Reaper over the deep middle, taking heads off every receiver Northern sends after him. We fight, dig, and claw for every thing we can, and the Silver Lake Foxes respond.
The first quarter ends with both teams knotted at zero, but I can feel it, and looking around at the guys, they feel it too. The Sounders didn't expect to fight this hard. They're ready to buckle. "Thirty-four fire SAM slant," I call in the defensive huddle. There's only a minute left in the second half, and the Sounders are just trying to hang on until halftime. "Let's take it to them."
"Cover two," Russ calls, and we break the huddle. We line up, and I can see it in the Northern QB’s eyes. He's afraid. He's 'hearing footsteps'.
"Black forty-three! Black forty-three! Set! Hut!"
The ball snaps on one, and I charge. A 'fire SAM slant' is a blitz, where I go on one side of the center, while our nose tackle slants to the other side. If it's done right, the center doesn't know who to block, and the guards are also caught off guard too. My going right up the middle means that if I'm quick and powerful enough, I can be past the line and into the backfield before anyone can do a damn thing about it. If the running backs are going out on passes, it's lights out for the quarterback.
This time, I go to my left, the Sounders' right, and while the guard is at least half ready for me, he's not ready for the power I bring. We collide shoulder to shoulder, and he's goes flying backward, blown off his feet. The Northern quarterback sees me coming, though and runs like a scared rabbit, scrambling in the half-second head start the guard gave him.
Right into the arms of our defensive end. Bill strips the ball, and suddenly, it's on the ground. I scoop it up and run for the end zone, with only the big Northern fullback between me and the goal line. He'd been sent out on a swing pass, and he's got depth and pursuit angle on me. Squaring down, I lower my shoulder and nail him, both of us careening, but I refuse to go down, twisting and putting one hand on the ground for balance, my knees never touching the ground. When I reach the end zone, the dam is broken, and we're up, six to nothing.
After that, everything is a stat grab. My hit on the fullback took him out of the game with a dislocated shoulder, but more importantly, the Sounders had their hearts taken away from them and came out in the second half a shell of what they were. Final score: Silver Lake 42, Northern 6.
I'm shaking hands with the Sounders when a man approaches me, wearing the crimson and black of Clement University. "Troy Wood?"
"Yes, sir. Can I help you?"
"Yeah," he says, offering his hand. "Zach Peterson, I'm the assistant head coach for Clement University."
"I've read your name before, Coach. It's a pleasure. Hope you enjoyed the game."
"Enjoyed it? That was one of the finest displays of football I've ever seen at the high school level. Now, I know we were supposed to deliver this to you last week, but it kinda got lost in the paperwork shuffle around the office. Here you are," he says, handing me an envelope. "Your hands are sweaty, but it's an offer. Full ride. You play for Clement next year. I know you've got a few weeks until signing day, but we thought you might like to consider us as an option."
There's a TV crew in our face suddenly, and some reporter is getting his bit for the news. "Coach, I don't need to think. You say Clement has an offer for me. I know I’ve gotta wait for the actual signing, but you have my word. I'm going to Clement."
"And there you have it, folks. Local sports star, Troy Wood, has just verbally committed to Clement University after leading the Silver Foxes to a massive forty-two to six thrashing of the Sounders. Troy, do you have anything you'd like to say?"
I nod, knowing there's only one thing I want to say. I hold up the strip of tape with the 'WN' on it, smiling. “That one’s for you.”