Robofootball: Doublespin

Game three away at Meredith was a different story for Jess and the Hornets. The first day of fall, September 21st, 2018, came in like a lion though that reference was usually associated with March. It was unusually cold, not quite freezing, but the temperature would drop into the low 40’s accompanied by constant cold drizzle. The result was miserable playing conditions. Earlier rains had saturated the field and 22 wild teenage males with energy to burn like mansions did nothing to help the field as they stomped around in their long spikes to gain traction. Soon, divots ten times the size of those from the worst hacker on a golf course littered the field. Where the turf chunked away, small puddles arose that over the course of the game, could have supported a colony of tadpoles. As Axl Rose once lamented, it was much like a cold November rain.

The Hornets got the ball first at their own 33 yard line. The opening kickoff had only sailed to the 31, and would be an indicator of how the game would go. The Hornet who caught the ball, made one cut, and promptly fell on his rear end in a soggy mess. His butt looked like that of an explosive case of diarrhea. Like college football and unlike the pros, when a knee, elbow, butt, or ball hit the ground, the play was whistled dead. In the pros, an opposing team member had to at least touch you when you were down to signify a tackle and the end of the play.

The Meredith team was another smaller school similar to Lake George, only they did have a few bigger guys, corn fed, at least some fat ones on the lines. High school players, especially at the small town level, lacked the strength and conditioning of college and pro players; nevertheless, it was an evolutionary process, the biggest and strongest moved up while the slow and weak were weeded out. The absolute best players at towns like Lake George and Harrison for that matter could hope for little more than a partial scholarship offer from a junior college or perhaps a smaller division 3 or division 2 university like Northwood or Saginaw Valley State. Rarely would one be recruited by the likes of the big football powers in the state, Michigan or Michigan State. The best case scenario was perhaps a MAC conference scholarship to Central, Eastern, or Western Michigan. Jess, as his senior year progressed, would gather interest from the MAC, and even the Big 10.

With the sloppy, cold, windy conditions, it was going to be a game with a lot of running, the weather dictated so. Jess handed the ball off twice to his half back with the full back leading the block, once up the middle, once on the near right side. The Hornets gained 3 hard fought muddy yards each time. Jess flicked a little flanker screen for 6 yards to get the first first down of the game. Surprisingly, they ground out a touchdown a few yards at a time with no more than 3 short passes on the initial drive. They had a fumble but recovered it themselves.

Meredith, on an almost equal drive with little more than running, returned the favor to tie the game 7-7. The two, slow, agonizing drives nearly wiped out the entire first quarter. Kicking was tough and Jess and the Hornets started their second drive at their own 39 after a lame kick and a 10 yard return by an up back. After a couple of first downs, that included 3 more very short throws, Coach Bruce sent in a downfield past play despite the blustery Winnie the Pooh kind of wind. Unlike college and pros, the game balls were far more limited in high school. In most instances, the same ball was used for the entire game. Meredith had a couple of spares that they wiped off, but they didn’t go out of their way for the visitors in that regard. As a consequence, the wet ball slipped as Jess let it go. It came up short, right into the hands of a zone linebacker over the middle. The linebacker nearly dropped it after tipping it upward, but it fell back into his bread basket.

With players slipping and sliding everywhere, the linebacker took a wide sweep toward the sideline and was about to be tackled by 2 Hornets when he lateraled the ball to the safety running behind him. The safety bobbled it briefly like a hot potato while the linebacker, in the process of being tackled, took out both would-be-tacklers in one messy trio of sprawling limbs out of bounds. The way down the sideline was open with only one man to beat, and that was Jess. Like a punter or kicker, the quarterback was often the last line of defense when the other team got the ball, whether from a kick, a fumble, or in this case, and interception. Jess was naturally athletic and certainly not undersized at 6’3” though he was a little less than 200 pounds.

Jess focused solely on the safety with the ball and didn’t see the defensive tackle, who also happened to be the only 300 pounder with the Marauders, and maybe the only one who qualified as an official marauder. The tackle towered over Jess by 2 inches and had gotten up in time to provide some blocking support as the play mysteriously came to him rather than the other way around. Jess being the quarterback was just an added bonus when he lowered a big beefy shoulder and arms that were as a big as a man’s thighs though they probably sported as much fat too. Still, large men, unfairly as it may seem, gained more respect than large women, due to the kick-ass potentiality.

With Jess running full force angling to the sideline, the big tackle lumbered on a direct collision course and scored a direct hit, right under Jess’s chin. Jess had sort of seen him out of the corner of his wet rain-soaked eyes, but it was too late. 307 pounds of momentum whether it was a giant vinyl covered ball or a man, was a significant force and it lifted Jess several inches off of his feet as the tackle had crouched and then popped up like a jack-in-the-box to enhance the blow with some text book leverage. Lights flashed as Jess’s cheap helmet was nearly driven off his head as the housing clasp for the snap nearly broke off. Jess landed awkwardly on his back and his now crooked helmet hit the ground and snapped back into place, but only after Jess hit his head hard enough to give him a near or light concussion.

The wind had temporarily blasted out of his lungs leaving them flattened and desperate for oxygen. He naturally over compensated making strange gasping sounds that no one really heard as the play had moved on. His lungs tried to reinflate as Jess lay on the ground in a light daze horking like a dog with a big turkey leg bone caught in his throat. His wind came back and he was awakened fully to the cheers of the crowd as the safety had indeed returned the interception, after the lateral from the linebacker, for a score. Sure the play had happened across the field, and muddy uniforms were barely distinguishable from one team or another, but Carly, from her wet seat in the band, had not even realized the hit Jess had taken. Like everyone else in the stadium, her eyes had followed the dude with the ball. The back of Jess’s #18 looked like a miniature #10 as the top half of the numbers were splattered with mud. While the celebration was ongoing in the end zone, Jess was able to sit up slowly, catch a few full precious life-giving breaths, then stand, and then wobble off the field that turned into a slow jog little more than a brisk walk.

“You all right kid?” It was Coach Bruce who at least had noticed that Jess came back a little slowly.

“Yeah sure,” said Jess who was still a little groggy.

“We better stick to short passes kid,” said the coach who was mostly oblivious to Jess’s condition. In his defense, Jess was not much of a talker in the first place.

“Okay,” answered Jess. Things were still a bit foggy. It felt similar to some of the blows he had taken in the first game two weeks back against Farwell. Last week had been much easier with Lake George.

“Get ready son, you’re going right back out there. They do seem to be weaker on the right side.”

“Oh?” Jess was just doing some nodding like a goose with one or two word answers, which in turn, was not all that unusual for him either. He listened and well and basically did what he was told.

“Yeah, we’re going to call more runs that way, try these two plays,” added the coach as he rattled off a couple of code names.

Fortunately for Jess, the coach stuck with the basic game plan of a lot of running in the muck, and a short pass here and there. The plays were easy to recall as Jess knew them by heart like Carly knew the Periodic Table of Elements. The Hornets would score another touchdown on the ground to go in tied 14-14 at the half.

As always, it was football for Chris sake! Bang-ups and bruises were expected like bugs in spring, and both the staff and players spent most of half time garnering up spare jerseys, dry towels, and cleaning out sod-encrusted cleats. Unless someone was cut that required stitching, and if no bones were broken, then players were expected to not whine or complain, and get their butts back on the field.

In the second half, the wind and cold rainy weather did not let up. If anything, as time moved onward as it inexorably does, the night sky grew darker and the temperature would bottom out at 41 degrees Fahrenheit. Once could see the misty rain particles swirling about the lights, at least where the bulbs were whole. After two tough running first downs, the Marauders fumbled the ball twice in succession near midfield, getting it back the first time, but not so fortunate the second. With a good rest in, Jess hit a couple of short quick passes since the Marauders were stuffing 8 and even 9 defenders in the box cheating or banking on the run. A misdirection screen to the right side where Coach Bruce had correctly detected a weakness in the Marauder defense, netted 25 yards, and would end up being Jess’s longest pass play and only TD pass of the game. After 6 and half minutes had elapsed in the 3rd quarter, the Hornets had gone up 21-14.

After that, the field couldn’t take much more. It was low ground to begin with and the rain never stopped. It picked up some in intensity from a constant light drizzle to steady light with a burst of wind mixed in here and there for good measure. The gusty wind drove it stingingly into the eyes of the players on occasion. Funny how it found its way precisely within the gaps of the helmets into eyes, noses, mouths, and cheeks. On their second drive in the 3rd quarter, Meredith made a first down, but fumbled again to Harrison. Two plays later, the Hornets fumbled it back. After three straight runs against the wind, the Marauders only made 4 yards and punted 18 yards into a miserable wind.

With time running out in the third quarter and a 3rd down and 8 at their own 28 yard line, Coach Bruce called for a rare downfield pass. The Marauders were still stacking the box in anticipation of a run; furthermore, the wind was still at the Hornets’ backs which wouldn’t last long. This time Jess was a bit slow backing up to the pocket. Jess for the most part had been forced to take the snaps directly under center as the weather conditions made any shotgun snaps a little more precarious or dangerous. The big defensive back shot through when his offensive counterpart for the Hornets slipped. Jess was rushed, hurried the throw, and was still knocked on his ass in a tremendous splash as the big tackle managed to get a finger tip on the ball too as he clothes’ lined Jess to the ground. As interceptions often go, the same linebacker who had intercepted him in the first half happened to be in the right place at the right time again.

The interception only occurred about 6 yards up field from the line of scrimmage and the linebacker was smothered before he had any chance or hope of pulling off another lateral though the thought had crossed his mind. With only 34 yards to go, Meredith, with the exception of one little 4-yard shovel pass inside, were able to grind out a touchdown on the ground. In the wet and mud and ever deteriorating field conditions, they botched the extra point. The Hornets held on to a 21-20 lead at the end of the 3rd quarter.

With a strong head wind after the teams reversed sides in the 4th, Coach Bruce gave up on passing. Jess had only 134 yards for the game, 1 touchdown, and 2 picks; stats that he would finish with. They ground out some more first downs, 3 in a row before punting. With the gusty unpredictable winds, Meredith could do little in the air despite having the wind at their backs. The quarterback was a little guy, barely 5’8” tall, and not nearly as talented as Jess. He threw wildly long or short, and like the Hornets, Meredith resorted to the run which gave the defense all of the advantage. The Hornets were a stronger team, at least on paper, bigger, more athletic, and just better. The rain and the two interceptions had kept the Marauders much closer than it should have been.

The teams traded punts, but another crucial fumble by Meredith midway through the 4th quarter in their own territory doomed their fate. A Hornet scooped up the ball and returned it to the Meredith 19, a yard into the vaunted Red Zone. The Hornets managed a 6 yard run, followed by another 5 to get a 1st down at the 8. 3 runs later they were faced with a 4th down at the 5. Despite the wind, rain, and muddy field, the use of a tee that was legal in high school games allowed the Hornets to successfully kick a short field goal to increase their lead 24-20. The 4-point cushion proved to be crucial as Meredith would need to score a touchdown to have any chance of winning. Coach Bruce put the game in the hands of his defense and they stopped Meredith twice in a row on the last of the Marauder drives.

The Hornets were now 3-0 after a tough road win. Since the chin strap on Jess’s helmet still engaged despite the housing being cracked and loose, the helmet was not fixed or repaired let alone taken out of service.

“Love calls to war;

Sighs his alarms,

Lips his swords are,

The field his arms.”

George Chapman, Epithalamion Teratos, Ib., refrain.