Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
As my guys come and join me in a huddle, I have no idea what to say. “Can I just say insert uplifting speech here and let you guys fill in the blanks?”
Everyone chuckles.
“Same play?” Trenton asks.
We’re all exhausted, it’s so close to the end we can taste it, but we still have so far to go.
“Are we dumb enough to try a play that didn’t work the first time?” I reply.
“It’s our best shot,” Trenton says.
“Are we all happy with that?” I glance around the circle at everyone nodding.
“I can get away this time, I swear it,” James, my wide receiver, says from his spot beside me. “I’ll get under that ball if it kills me.”
I slap his back. “If that doesn’t kill you, we will if you don’t pull this off.”
He knows I’m joking. I think.
“One last thing,” I say before we break. “No matter what happens, you’re all awesome, and I’ve loved every second of playing football with you guys.”
“Aww, Cap.” Trenton sniffs dramatically. “You’re gonna make us cry.”
I roll my eyes. “How about we put this one away so we’re not crying for real at the end of it?”
We get psyched up and break, and as we take our positions for what will probably be the last time, the usual zing skates along my skin. It’s a mixture of hope and confidence that will either come crashing down in a minute or soar to impossible heights.
I wish everything went in slow motion like the movies in these kinds of moments, but it doesn’t. The play happens so fast I’m barely aware of it. It passes in a blur.
Hell, I don’t even pay attention to the rest of the team. My focus is on James and getting him the ball. Even as I’m charged by an Alabama cornerback.
I know he’s coming, so I let the ball fly.
The cornerback is too close to pull to a stop, so we tumble to the ground, but then the most heartwarming noise hits my ears. The touchdown horn blows, followed by deafening screams that drown out the school’s song.
I’m winded when my teammates pull me back up to my feet, but that’s okay. This next part is easy. Getting our kicker out here to win this thing.
My job here is done.
If this were any other touchdown and any other try for a conversion, I might stay on the field to confuse the opposition into thinking we were trying for a two-point conversion, but everyone in this stadium knows what we’re going to do.
I take to the sidelines, knowing I’ve done my best.
If we make this kick, we walk away winners. There’s not enough time on the clock for Alabama to score again. If we miss, we go into overtime.
Fucking hell, I can’t watch.
Everyone gets into position.
I can’t watch, I can’t watch, I can’t watch.
I wish I had my eyes open.
I can’t take it anymore. They fly open to see the ball sail right through the middle of the posts.
Best ending to my college career I could ask for.
The locker room is loud, and by the time media interviews and celebrations are done, my voice is hoarse from screaming so much.
My second college championship win. It’s been fucking epic.
But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t ready to leave it all behind me. I’m ready for the rest of my life. Though leaving California and Levi won’t be easy.
I’m more than committed to making it work, though. Any which way we can.
When we’re all finally dressed and have calmed down a little—only a little because this high is going to last us the next month—we leave the stadium as a team and get on the team bus to take us back to the hotel.
We don’t go back home until tomorrow, and I think Coach knows trying to get us to behave tonight will be next to impossible.
The bus pulls up to the hotel, and I can already see my family and Levi waiting for us by the entrance. A few of the other guys’ families came too, and they look as eager to congratulate us as we are to get off this bus and start partying.
We try to stand as soon as the bus stops, but Coach puts up his hand to stop us.
“Just … don’t get arrested. Underage players, no drinking. And … be responsible. The last thing I want to deal with is a media frenzy where all of you are disgraced publicly over stupid dude-bro actions.”
I snort because Coach gave us the same speech last year when we won. And two years ago when we lost. Only then it was tacked on the end of “Don’t drown yourself in liquor and end up tits-deep in depression and snow.” The game was played in Wisconsin that year.
“Can we go now, Coach? Please?” I beg, and everyone else cheers.