The next hour or so was a blur as the game got under way. It was a sunny and warm day in Foxboro, probably one of the last warm days of the season.
The game started, and we took an early lead. Drake was having another amazing game - defenses just couldn’t figure out how to handle his combination of perfect catching and speed. His routes were crisp, and it was like he and I had a mental connection. He knew where he needed to be, and I knew just where to place the ball so he could bring it down.
It was pretty awesome to watch, I was sure, especially when the tens of thousands of Patriots fans jumped to their feet and roared, shaking the ground, when Drake jumped up and caught each of two early touchdowns from me.
It was like poetry in motion. We had a good thing going, and I felt really good as I jogged off the field at halftime.
Coach Armstrong, though, would not let us just enjoy the game. During halftime adjustments he went up and down the line, berating people and pointing out just where their mistakes were. Everyone took it in stride - even the rookies were used to it by now. You’d think Drake and I would have escaped such scrutiny, given that we were already way ahead, but nope, we each got an earful, and each of us took the advice to heart.
The third quarter was a defensive slugfest - neither team could make any progress on offense, and by the time we got to the fourth as the sun went down, we were still holding on to a good 10 point lead. All in all things looked great for us.
The fourth quarter started with Hud making a huge play on defense, intercepting a pass by the Steelers’ QB and returning it for a quick score. Just like that, we were up 17 on one of the scariest teams in the league.
This season was getting off to a great start. We had this game in hand - the Steelers vaunted offense wasn’t going anywhere today against Hud and his defense.
But I was still in the game. Coach Armstrong was the kind of coach who left his starters in despite the game being nearly over. He just didn’t believe in taking people off the field while there was a chance for the other team to come back and steal the hard-earned victory.
So as the clock wound down, I was still in the game. Not to toot my own horn or anything, but the starting quarterback, meaning me, was generally considered to be the most important player on the team, if not all of professional sports.
So why risk injury to your most important asset when this game in particular was almost over and you were about to win? The thought ran through my mind for a few seconds before I shook my head and focused on watching Hud and his defensive friends force another 3-and-out by the Steelers.
I wasn’t going to question Coach Armstrong - whatever his reasons were, he had them, and that was good enough for me. As our next drive started, I jogged onto the field and got in the huddle.
I glanced up at the clock. Just a few minutes left, no need to rush, since we were ahead. Football, more so than other team sports, was a game of timing. Playing and managing the clock correctly was almost as important as the play on the field, which a lot of people, including some head coaches, just couldn’t wrap their heads around, which resulted in boneheaded end-of-game plays that riled up fans and message boards for days, sometimes years.
I called out the play to the huddle and everyone acknowledged. We clapped and broke the huddle and I walked to the line. It was going to be a passing play, short yardage, something we’d done hundreds if not thousands of times before in practice and real games.
The center snapped the ball to me, and I dropped back, scanning the field for Drake or any of my other receivers to make the pass. Nothing there yet.
I dropped back another step, still looking around, nothing there. The running back behind me moved up to help block, since he knew the play was already taking longer than it should have. Even though it had been less than 3 seconds.
This was not going well. The running back moving up to my right must have caused a breakdown with one of the offensive linemen, because suddenly there was a giant man in a Steelers uniform coming at me from my right.
I tried to turn away and go to the ground before he hit me, but I couldn’t make it happen in time, and the guy barreled into me, knocking me straight into the ground and taking the wind out of me completely. I felt the crunch in my right leg as I went down.
Fuck.
That hurt.
CHAPTER 06 - CHARLOTTE
I watched Lance go down from the side of the field, where the athletic staff spent the game, occasionally checking on players and keeping them limber to go back and play.
My heart nearly jumped out of my chest as I watched him go to the ground, knocked over by the giant Steelers’ linebacker. He got up immediately after the hit and started jumping up and down in celebration to the boos of the crowd.