Robofootball: Doublespin

It was cool in Texas on a calm January day, the 2nd Sunday of the New Year. The temperature was expected to reach the upper 50’s in the Dallas area, no wind or precipitation to speak of. The machines on the open filed would have good playing conditions, no rain or snow, not too cold, and overheating wouldn’t be a problem caused by the weather. The pre-game show of the Cosmic Bowl was quite elaborate. The respective sweeper crews displayed their team colors prominently on their carts and vehicles; gloss black for Texas with big gold stars inscribed within tin cans on the side panels, and blue and silver for Michigan with the patented Robocat feline logo crouched to strike. The individual sweeper robots marched in and around the team vehicles like a new marine class at graduation.

Even the commercial time slots for the game were raking in $3 million for a full minute, and half that for 30-second spots; perhaps a little less than half what the old Super Bowl raked in, but with shared revenue, the team owners would get their cut or legitimate piece of the action. Dano Verlucci was one happy man, for even if the Robocats lost, and he did not get his much-desired quarter stake in the Venetian, he would still make millions on everything from the team cut in ticket sales, ad, and parking revenue, to the mass merchandise that would follow. Michigan fans, especially those in the Detroit area, were some of the greatest and most loyal in the world when it came to supporting a team, whether it was professional or one of the big colleges like Michigan and Michigan State.

The Tin Cans won the toss and it was no holds barred from the very start. Texas had gotten more spare parts from the Japanese than any other team, virtually everything that could be rushed and shipped overnight, but it had cost them, and it still left 8 Gen 3 players nonfunctional, 5 on the defense with 3 of those being in the secondary, Aside from the delicate and vulnerable throwing module in the Gen 3 quarterback, and thanks particularly to Dino; Reynolds and the Robocats had learned recently that the hip joints in the smaller, but more agile and speedy corners & safeties were a weak spot, prone to damage from some precise hits. Dino had written the numbers down, 56-64, 9 defensive players for the Tin Cans who played in the secondary. Teams could pass 60 players for inspection counting the reserves, but Jess and Antwan made 62 as they had carefully cloned doubles wearing the same numbers 18 and 7 respectively.

Texas had extra players too hidden in their own locker room, but they were Gen 2 backups. There were only so many Gen 3 players that they could get; nevertheless, they had 26 of them, all starters except for the 8 awaiting parts. That still left the team with 18, 10 on offense and 8 on defense with the secondary hardest hit by inoperability. Dino watched this very carefully, and when he saw any of them on special teams, they’d have big bull’s eye targets on their backs, or more accurately, on their hip joints. He learned early on that #56, 59, and 64 were not on the initial 50-player roster that had to be presented to the inspectors and opposing team alike, so he crossed them off his already short list.

Reynolds, Rudy, and Dino knew the game would be brutal from the start, but even they were in for a surprise. From past experience, they were well aware that Texas played dirty, attempting to disable key players under the cover of huge piles. They had successfully targeted Ichiro’s running backs in the November 29th game last year, but now the Robocats were prepared with 3 of them, #22, #21, and #20. Texas would still target the running backs and quarterbacks, but also added the #7 receiver high on their list after reviewing tape from the semifinals. Antwan, though he was not recognized as a human player in full body armor that mimicked the robotic players around him in most every important detail, was still singled out by the Tin Cans because he was the leading receiver on the team. They would simply try to break his legs, something that the Verlucci Family could relate to; after all, it was just sound business strategy to disable your rivals by any means necessary or available.

The Tin Cans elected to receive after the coin flip. Dino looked about and did not see any players numbered 56 to 64 on the receiving team. Of course, he had x’d out 56, 59, and 64 already. The opening kick was high, but a little short, and caught at the Tin Can 2 yard line by their return specialist, who, like Ichiro’s players, doubled as a running back. The returner went straight up the field at full gallop, straight south-to-north like every good returner should; statistically, it always gained the most yards. Many a yard was lost or not won by a returner who dilly-dallied about from side to side looking for the ideal opening only to be crushed well short of the minimal 20, the ultimate measure for kickoff futility if one did not at least make it that far up the field.

The Gen 3 returner got past the initial wave, spun around a few more overly aggressive would-be tacklers, and was out near the Tin Can 40 when the Robocat kicker actually forced the returner out of bounds. And then boom! A purposeful late hit on the kicker from a low blow out of bounds by a trailing support runner just missed the kicker’s leg. The kicker appeared to be fine, but the Tin Cans had already shown their true colors by going after it. As a result, the ball was placed back at the Texas 24 after 15 yards in reverse was marked off for the late hit on the kicker.

Two plays later, the pasty pudgy controller for the Robocat right defensive end plastered the Texas quarterback on a running play 2 seconds after the ball had been handed off. His missed the quarterback’s susceptible shoulder but did slam into the lower back and rattled it some. It was a late hit penalty; nevertheless, it was encouraged and congratulated by Reynolds. For the big game, there was a $2,000 bonus for anyone who was able to disable the Texas quarterback, late hit or not, and $500 for any offensive controller who disabled any of the numbers on Dino’s index card, 57, 58, 60, 61, 62, and 63.

While he was running the defense, Dino turned the card over and placed it aside. He was going to be far more aggressive, blitz more, get to the quarterback all costs, even if they had to give up a long play now and then. He was running a 4-3 D and blitzed the 3 linebackers twice in a row. The 2nd time, the Tin Cans hit a nice 15 yard pass play up the middle to their tight end where the backers had vacated the area; still, they had knocked down the quarterback all the while aiming for the throwing shoulder. One of the backers hit it a glancing blow but with no immediate or apparent damage. Dino brought the 2 safeties up to the line on virtually every play where he did not blitz at least 2 linebackers.

The Robocats were effectively stopping the run, but the Tin Cans were converting short passes. Unexpectedly, at the same time, they weren’t protecting the quarterback all that well. It was the last game of the season nonetheless, and the time for extreme caution was at an end. When the Tin Cans got a few yards into the Red Zone, Dino sent a double safety blitz, but got burned on one of those end zone 1 on 1 corner tosses. They knocked the Tin Can quarterback down again, but to no appreciable damage as Texas got off to a fast 7-0 lead.

Texas still felt that the Robocat running back was the MVP of the team, and the one position that they believed Michigan was simply better at than them. It was obvious that they would key on #22 from the start, just like they had done back in late November, but Rudy had a unique plan formulated to save the running back, at least on the first drive. He would have Jess throw 10 passes in a row, and if that didn’t get the Tin Cans to stop thinking about the run so much, he didn’t know what else could. After the touchback, Jess took two robotic paces backward from the center. If there was one odd or out of place thing to him about the RFL, it was the fact that signals were barked out a small loud speaker from his helmet. He could override it however as his voice was synthesized to sound like a machine. Antwan was the only one who had to listen closely as whatever Jess said was relayed directly to Rudy, who in turn, zipped it to his controllers. By the time Reynolds typed it in for Antwan’s benefit, the ball was often snapped. If Jess’s backup clone was in, then Rudy could send an audible in to it if desired which was of course instantly relayed to all of the thumb jockeys.

Jess’s first option was to Antwan, and he zipped it to him when the #58 corner cover loped back 2 or 3 yards. Antwan made 4 yards before being shove out of bounds. On the next play, Jess faked a pitch to #22 which drew a lot of interest, and this time hit Antwan with a quick hitch and go. The corner had moved up the line on Antwan and when Antwan broke 3 yards up and stopped as if to get ready for a pass, the corner broke on the play as Jess pump faked. Antwan broke another 7 yards down field where the ball was placed perfectly in his outstretched arms. The #63 safety shoved Antwan out of bounds after the first down marker was passed. Dino was watching carefully, but since the plays were isolation ones with Antwan, there was little opportunity to paste the secondary players. Dino had permission from both Reynolds and Rudy to confer with the offensive controllers for specific targets.

“22 High Screen Left,” Rudy blurted out and Jess agreed with the call. The team huddled like they did in the NFL, but it served little purpose since it was the controllers in the war room who needed to have it. There was one exception since Jess and Antwan could indeed communicate both verbally and nonverbally. This time it was Reynolds whose quick typing, something he had gotten a lot better at as the season wore on, relayed to Antwan, “Take out corner #58, loose arm and hip.”

Antwan grinned. He was made for this, one reason he had become a marine. On a screen play, he became a blocker; not only could he catch a little better with his fragile but human left hand, but he could aim more precisely too, especially with his extra tough prosthetic right arm. When Ichiro’s #22 running back caught the nice little floating screen, the #58 corner slanted and Antwan zeroed in on its hip flexor expertly like an eagle on a pigeon, leading with his well-armored right shoulder, CRACK! The corner’s hip joint didn’t break but it bent, and like a precision rack and pinion steering component, the pinion didn’t move right. Once the #58 defensive corner struggled to get up, it was unable to bend the hip joint at all. The player could still move awkwardly off the field under its own power, but it was effectively disabled. Score one for Antwan and the Robocats. Ichiro had only gained 4 yards but Reynolds and Dino were cheering wildly. Reynolds would have to remember to give Antwan $500 for the awesome disabling hit since he couldn’t very well pay himself for his pseudo-controlling of #7. Dino pulled out his card and put a big deep dark “X” through 58.

“Watch-a-fucky! Watch-a-fucky!” They all heard Ichiro cursing from the rear of the control room. With their eyes on the partially limping stiff looking #58 Tin Can corner, most of the staff did not see that a linebacker remained partially on top of #22 for the offense. The play was over but the linebacker was tugging at #22’s leg repeatedly and blatantly.

“Get him off! Anyone!” Reynolds yelled. Several offensive linemen controllers moved their nearby players, but since the fingers were welded shut, an option to prevent holding, they couldn’t stop the linebacker. It was Antwan who was nearby came over and pried #22’s leg from the linebacker’s grasp.

“Looks like a malfunction,” Antwan said and had to hold himself back from kicking the linebacker. The sweepers were called in to haul the linebacker away.

“Looks suspicious,” Reynolds typed in which was relayed by voice to Antwan as usual.

“Don’ know Reynolds, he keeps pullin’ at air now, but he still pullin’.”

“Okay,” said Reynolds. He guessed correctly that the Tin Cans were trying to disable #22, only the linebacker malfunctioned while attempting to do so. Reynolds got on the phone to their on-field rep that was ordered to protest to the officials; nevertheless, when #22 got up, flexed its no worse for wear, the play was just ruled a non-penalty malfunction.

Jess passed and he passed, spun clockwise once to avoid a pass rush, had one blocked in his face, scrambled here and there, hit the tight end over the middle for 12 yards on a 3rd and 6 when Antwan was double teamed, and hit Antwan again on some improvisation plays as he scrambled out of the pocket including one where Antwan floated across the middle and reversed direction to meet up together. The Robocats managed 4 first downs without running on 10 scripted pass plays that had been altered by Jess as needed. In that time, Jess had been knocked down once, but had avoided the two pile-ups so far where the Tin Cans were noted for pulling legs out of joint. The offensive linemen were coached to protect their quarterback at all costs, before, during, and especially after the play. Their job was to stay between Jess and the defenders, at least on pass plays, and then be alert to any late hit attempts.

With the defense softened up and now expecting pass, Jess read an incoming blitz and audiblized a draw to #22 after faking a quick slant to Antwan. Unlike most robot quarterbacks, even the Gen 3’s, Jess was able to hand the ball off directly into #22’s abdomen, splitting the 2’s like a cleaver in a soft piece of fish. Most robot quarterbacks pitched the ball to avoid collisions, delays, or even hang-ups. Ichiro did his thing, ducking low, swiveling like no other running back in the league, dancing back and forth, floating like an elusive butterfly that was there but not there as arms and bodies came thrusting at him from all directions. Antwan had another shot and took out the #57 corner that was newly assigned to him, only he missed the hip that he as aiming for. Ichiro artfully maneuvered his player about the secondary and scored from 32 yards out.

The extra point was good to make it 7-7, but Texas purposefully roughed the kicker with a blatantly illegal late hit. A penalty was called and assessed an extra 15 yards on the ensuing kickoff, which would be from the 45 instead of the 30, only this time, the Tin Cats managed to bend the kicker’s ankle joint. The sweepers whisked the kicker off the field and into the locker room where Yuri and Doc Holliday would get their first patient. The kicker was a Kettering design and the lone backup was virtually identical to the starter. About the only thing that differed was the player number, even the controller was the same.

Kick it high and short!” Reynolds commanded, “Let’s back them up if we can.” The kick was so high that it may have hit a steel truss had they been in the Silverdome; however, they were playing in an open stadium in Dallas. It almost worked as good as an onside kick as half the Robocat team got to the 6-yard line near the side line when the ball finally came down. The Tin Cat receiver awaiting the ball failed to call a legal ‘Fair Catch’ which tended to be the norm in punts but rarely utilized on kickoffs. There was a mad scramble for the ball as the intended receiver was drilled at the same time the ball arrived. The ball bounced off heads, arms, and legs before it was eventually batted out of bounds at the 4-yard line. It was given to the Tin Cans since the Robocats could not maintain possession of it in bounds. Two players from each team had to be swept off the field by the respective sweeper crews.

Dino decided to tone down, get a little less aggressive on the blitzes and concentrate more on the pass defense. Like a chess match for all the marbles, Texas countered by running two plays in the ground up the gut that only netted 5 yards total between them. Dino blitzed 2 linebackers on 3rd down and to protect the quarterback, the offensive controller had to throw the ball away, but on this particular play, Reynolds’ plan of nailing the quarterback to the cross backfired as the skinny Kettering controller pursued and knocked the quarterback down without any noteworthy damage. It was as blatant as what Texas had done to the kicker since it occurred well after the ball had been thrown. The crowd booed, but instead of 4th and 5 deep in their own territory, the Tin Cans were awarded with a 1st down at their own 24 after the 15 yard penalty was marched off.

“If you’re gonna hit the bastard late, make it count GOD DAMN IT!” Reynolds was screaming.

The game continued to get more violent and dirty. Eventually, it would set a single game record for late hit and roughing penalties, and spawn new rules the following season for more frequent player rejections, but for now, the current looser rules applied. There had been bad blood or oil when the teams had met back in November, but now it was war and the rules be damned. It may for an entertaining game, maybe even more so than the old NFL. The violence was there, even encouraged by Reynolds with monetary payoffs. Players were rarely ever ejected in the RFL, even for the most egregious of hits. They were generally only taken out due to injury or malfunction or a combination of the two with the latter often the direct result of the former.

Leading with heads, knees, elbows, and shoulders were all fair game in the RFL and Reynolds was waving $100 bills like the home country flags in an Olympic match. The monetary reward was extended to the potential injury and disabling of all opposing players. Dino was the one who absolutely pointed out that it seemed to him that the Robocats had more healthy topnotch players to begin the game with. Aside from the bonus of having Jess and Antwan, they did not have players on an injured reserve list awaiting parts. Texas was a great place to get parts for an oil rig, but not for robots. To Dino, it was like General Grant in the Civil War, just make it a numbers game. General Lee may have had superior tactics and the home field advantage in nearly all battles, but Grant had numbers and the superior manufacturing capabilities of the North behind him.

Soon, sturdy linemen were going down. The Robocats would lose a linebacker, but the Tin Cans would have a receiver’s legs viciously cut out from under it. The Robocats were cracking but the Tin Cans were being cut open. Every other play it seemed, a player, and sometimes two, was being swept off the field. The Tin Cans were stopped on their 2nd possession at midfield and pinned the Robocats at their coffin corner 2 yard line. Jess couldn’t get out of it as two of his passes were dropped by receivers not named Antwan, and Ichiro was only able to make 4 yards on a run play between the passes.

The backup kicker punted the ball and the controller was coached to avoid getting hit, which he did, barely. Antwan stayed in on the punt with orders not to try and make a tackle on the ball carrier, but to carefully aim at another safety, which he did. Dino was able to scratch the #62 Tin Can safety off the list as it seemed to Antwan, like a precision marine sniper, something he actually had a ribbon for, was able to find the exact disabling spot on his opponent’s hip joint. A good soldier recognized the weakness of his opponent; a great one like a marine, exploited that knowledge to disable him or take him out, permanently. The kick however barely made it to midfield and the punt returner brought it back a good 24 yards. The Robocat defense came up strong, chased the quarterback relentlessly, but couldn’t quite get at that elusive vulnerable shoulder module. The Tin Cans did manage a field goal to take a 10-7 first quarter lead.

“Number 61 is on the kickoff team!” Dino shouted exuberantly.

“Antwan, get in there!” Reynolds commanded on his keyboard. “Rudy, bring #33 in for a substitution.”

“Done,” said Rudy who followed orders first and questioned them later. He wouldn’t go against the head coach if Reynolds wanted in on the play.

“What?” Antwan’s voice-conversion popped up on Reynolds’ monitor.

“Take out #61 if you can Antwan, hip shot!”

Antwan grinned, “You got it boss.” He wondered why he hadn’t done more of this before. It was fun being bad-ass.

Luckily for the Robocat plans, the ball sailed 3 yards into the end zone, but Reynolds yelled for Ichiro to take it out which he would have done anyhow using the 5 yard distance in the end zone as a guide. #22 only made the 18 yard line but Antwan got his man with another precise hip shot. #61 on the Tin Cans went down like a cannon shot. In the secondary, the Tin Cans were down to #57, #60, and #63 as true Gen 3 players, one corner and two safeties, but they would get some measure of revenge on the next series of downs.

It was the Robocats 1st possession of the 2nd quarter when the defense was able to trap #22. They hadn’t gotten to Jess at all other than a couple of harmless knockdowns, but on a 3rd and 1, Ichiro ducked his #22 player up the middle and got stood up by 2 opposing linebackers. Rather than tackling him as the Texas controllers had been coached and practiced, they held him up as the #63 safety came in with a head shot to #22’s knee. It was a borderline late hit as the whistle had sounded ending the play given that forward progress had been halted, but it was close enough in time that the penalty was not called. It wasn’t life threatening for the Robocats since one, they got the 1st down, and two, they had two identical running backs in reserve, #21 and #20.

The killer shot came on a pass play 2 plays later. Jess launched a perfect 42-yard bomb to Antwan between 2 nearby defenders, the #57 corner and the #60 safety. Antwan had to leap sky high between them and caught the ball. He landed on top of the safety but did not touch the ground immediately. The corner grabbed his left leg and twisted it severely to roll him off the safety and complete the official tackle. It didn’t hurt Antwan physically since his legs were prosthetics, but it bent it as easily as Superman twisting a crowbar. Antwan got up limping and hobbled off the field. The secondary assassin for the Robocats was now gone leaving Jess without his best receiver. Another #7 would return but it wouldn’t be the same. Like a good quarterback, Jess was speed learning as the game went on. The Tin Cans still had three of four Gen 3’s capable of playing in their secondary which was still more than equal in and of itself to most any other team in the league.

When Antwan passed through the main locker area to get to the office, his human eyes locked with Yuri’s who had the 1st string kicker on the table working on its leg. The short term prognosis was not good for the kicker who would need a specialized fabricated part that would likely take several hours to make back at the MIR. Antwan wasn’t sure, but it seemed to him that Yuri gave him a small barely perceptible but knowing nod before he turned his attention back to his patient. Another #7 would come out of the office soon, but it was not Antwan.

Ichiro’s #21 running back was now by Jess’s side, and a couple of hand offs netted 7 yards, but the 2nd one resulted in Jess’s first serious hit of the game. Like the playoff battle against New York, Jess was given about the best possible protection under the circumstances with additional orders to watch his back constantly, including late hits and such. In fact, at the end of nearly every offensive play, the controllers for the linemen were ordered to surround Jess like the secret service guarding the president in a crowd. Ichiro however was about to run into a block wall of 3 would-be tacklers, when he spun two yards backwards like a prime Barry Sander’s move, and when he totally reversed field with his #21, he inadvertently brought the play back toward Jess with a small army of enemy soldiers hot on his trail.

Jess got caught in the crossfire and took a solid bone-crunching shot from a linebacker in the chops, and he went down. He got up groggy, mumbled something to Rudy, and headed for the sideline. The Robocats, as usual, called timeout when they had to take Jess out and Reynolds ordered him directly to the locker room. For one, they couldn’t run his clone in there with the same number immediately. If they didn’t have a timeout, then they might throw their old 3rd string Gen 1 in there for a pitched handoff or two to Ichiro’s player. Reynolds would be damned if he’d let that Gen 1 attempt a pass in a close game. The Gen 1 couldn’t hit water of it fell out of a boat.

Reynolds ordered Mark to the QB board as he met up with Antwan and Jess in the locker room office to assess their condition. Dr. Hobson was there too as Jess’s personal doctor. Reynolds might not have liked him, but he was glad the little beady-eyed bastard was there, who else was as capable as he in examining Jess?

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” Jess insisted, “I can play.”

“Hold on their sport,” Reynolds was saying and then turned to Hobson, “Doc?”

“Shaken up slightly, he’s focusing fine, appears sharp, sharper than I remember, does not seem to be concussive, but one can’t say for 100% sure without a full brain scan.”

They were all interrupted by a collective groan from the crowd.

“That sounds good,” said Reynolds. He pulled out his phone, “Rudy?”

“Yeah, we scored! Quarterback sneak! They weren’t looking for it at all!”

Reynolds about had heart failure, if Jess had been down and the backup injured, then they’d be left with nothing but that clunky Gen 1, “Great, I’ll be back in a minute, you okay Antwan?”

“Just my leg,” he said depressedly, “I think I’m done for the day.”

“Okay then, Jess?”

“Yeah?”

“You feelin’ okay, for real?”

“Yeah, I mean Hell Yeah!”

“Good, you can rest a little, we’re on D now. I’ll send your backup dummy back in here, and then you get your ass on the sideline.”

“Okay you got it coach.”

When Reynolds came back, Rudy was looking a little glum, “What’s the matter?”

“Bastards got the kicker, and the spotter too if you can believe that shit. Same dude kneed the spotter in the head, and got the kicker’s leg, late at that.”

“The backup kicker is out?”

“Yeah, late penalty, roughing the kicker, you know the drill.”

“Fuck, what’ll we do?”

“Kickoffs should be okay, especially this one since it’s at the 45 again, any one of those blockheads could probably kick the ball, well, maybe not the linemen, not built for it. We could have Jess do it if he’s okay.”

“Yeah, he’s fine,” said Reynolds. “See? He’s back out on the sideline, get’em on the line, tell him to do it.”

“Got it,” Rudy said and then relayed the circumstances to Jess.

“Kid’s an athlete,” said Reynolds, “Hell, he played basketball and baseball in high school too.”

“What’ll we do on field goals?”

“Let’s see how he kicks off, he can probably do extra points okay. Yuri and Holliday are working on the kickers, maybe they’ll get one patched up by the 2nd half.”

They all watched the screen anxiously as Jess kicked the ball off the tee a full 49 yards to the Tin Can 6 near the side line. It was a low line drive that probably would either have gone out of bounds, but the receiver caught it, or may have been a good return ball if it hadn’t been kicked from the Robocat 45 yard line.

“Not bad under the circumstances,” said Rudy, “Not great, but it could’ve been worse.” The coverage was able to run the receiver out of bounds and Jess was unscathed on the play. Rudy’s last words before the kick were to stay out of any tackles including his own. Aside from Jess and Antwan making an excellent quarterback-receiver duo, the biggest improvements as the year progressed came on defense. This was due to controller experience. Doc Holliday with his budding student robot engineers, and Yuri, along with Yuri’s staff at the Michigan Institute of Robotics, kept the players in working condition too after they were designed at Kettering and built at the MIR with a little help with some limbs made by HAL.

This was the last game of the year and the coaching staff had given the defensive controllers carte blanche for destructive mayhem. Years honed as kids from playing the many versions of Going Postal, Grand Theft Auto, Halo, Fallout, Duke Nuke’m, Madden Football, Carmageddon, Diablo, Far Cry, Battlefield, and countless others had prepared them for this moment. They pushed their controllers to the maximum, off balance flying tackles, creative spins, full throttle full force impacts, and whatever else they could do to not only tackle but maim their opponents. They had long since been desensitized to violence. Reynolds had made it clear that late hits were more than acceptable with money on the line, especially to those who took out key opposing players. So far they had put a major crimp in the Texas secondary thanks mostly to Antwan. On the Tin Can offense, they had disabled a receiver, a running back, and 3 linemen. The Robocat losses were about the same on offense but less so on defense, but more so on special teams given the problems with the 2 kickers.

Of course football was football and a fluke play got the Tin Cans a touchdown but a sore quarterback too. On a 3rd down and 8 at their own 33 yard line, it was an obvious passing down. The Gen 3 QB went back to throw and had an open receiver deep that was just barely a step ahead of the Robocat safety. Since it was turning into a longer pass play, it took more time, and when the quarterback released the ball, the left defensive end, surprisingly manned by a somewhat normal looking Kettering student controller, not the pasty kid on the other end, burst around its tackle blocker and got a finger tip on the ball. The controller followed through smashing the right throwing shoulder of the quarterback solidly; however, the ball only traveled 20 yards down field, half of its projected distance. The Robocat middle linebacker, playing back in a zone coverage, leaped and the ball careened off his hand right into another receiver who had been well covered behind him, about as open as a nun’s legs. The backup safety had gone deep with the long receiver and the field was clear to the end zone for the lucky catch. After some good successive defensive stops on both sides, the 17-14 score would favor the Tin Cans at the half.

“Damn lucky fuckin’ play,” was all Dino could say about it at the half, but he had more intel on the Tin Can secondary that he had been keeping track of. “We should be able to light them, #63 is gone now too. Their last Gen 3 functioning secondary players are #57 and #60.”

“The quarterback is hurting too, after that TD, he can’t throw long any more,” said Rudy.

“I checked with Yuri, one of our kickers might be back, could be 15 or 20 minutes. We got the ball first too. So what else should we do?”

“Take out #57 and #60,” Dino said promptly, “After that I think the kid can light ’em up. Our defense is fine, playing good, if that quarterback can’t throw very far, we can play up closer, easier to shut them down.”

“Rudy?”

“They keep trying to tear the running backs up. Jess looks all right, he’s not getting pounded too much except for that one time. To win,” Rudy looked over at Jess, “You might have to take more chances.”

“That okay kid?” Reynolds asked.

“Sure, I just need more receivers to get open.”

“If we get #57 and #60 out, it should be easier,” chipped in Dino, “Especially #57, he seems to cover a lot of ground.”

“Okay,” said Reynolds. “Go talk to your thumb jockeys, get #57 and #60, and we should still go after their #16 quarterback. Take these guys out and we can win this thing.”

When the coordinators left, Antwan limped in from the office where he had been with Hobson to give Jess a little pep talk, “Go get’em kid but watch yo back. You can do it!” Antwan had taken his armor off and the prosthetic leg. When everyone cleared out including Jess, he heard a light rap on the door. Even Hobson had wandered off to get something to eat. Half time had been a little longer than usual with a laser light space-themed show mixed with fireworks and country singers that were less than inspiring, especially to Antwan. He preferred a little rap and hip hop or a combination of the two. The extra time gave Yuri some precious extra minutes to repair the backup kicker.

“Yeah, who is it?” Said Antwan.

“It me, Yuri, Antwan, you in dare?”

“Yeah, come on in.”

Yuri stepped in tentatively, “You okay Antwan?”

“Not really, what you want?”

“What wrong?”

“My leg, it’s all twisted.”

“Can I see?”

“Sure why not? You know I play don’t you Yuri?”

“Oh yah, it okay.”

“But you keep quiet?”

“Ya, not my bizness, but you get hurt?”

“Yeah, how ’bout the others?”

“Doc Holliday, da kids?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’ tink so, jus tink you a coach.”

“How do you know?”

Yuri grinned, “I makes da new armor, see da kinks, dents, and numba 7 shows through, lucky numba!”

“Yeah, you all right Yuri.”

“Ya, you too, I tink I have leg part for you.”

“Oh yeah, you can fix it?”

“Ya, same part as other players, made at HAL.”

“Don’t you have a kicker to fix?”

“He done, one okay now, I go get part, come back, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, hurry up,” Antwan was getting all excited now.

Yuri returned with a complicated looking prosthetic, it was painted blue unlike the natural flesh-colored one Antwan usually sported under his armor. It would take some bolting and a spot weld or two.

“You from where again?” Antwan asked.

“Czech Republic, Prague.”

“Like Frog?”

“No, Prague.”

“You not use money there, write a lot of checks?” Antwan goaded.

“Dat not veddy good Antwan,” Yuri said and laughed.

“Well, how many Czech engineers does it take to change a light bulb?”

“Dunno.”

“Three.”

“Why three?”

“One to get on a ladder and hold the bulb, and the other two to turn the ladder.”

“Ha! Dat better Antwan.”

“What did the Czech do with the gum he found in the bottom of the toilet?”

“Dunno.”

“Chewed the shit out of it.”

“Hmm, what dat you say Antwan? Oh yeah, dat nasty!”

“Yeah, yeah, the quicker you get done, the faster I can get out of here and stop telling bad jokes.”

“Dat be good,” said Yuri.

“What, that I get out of here or stop telling jokes?”

“Ya, both.”

“Okay you asked for it, why did the Czech drive around the block 18 times in a row?”

“Dunno.”

“His blinker got stuck.”

“You make fun of Czechs, no?”

“Sorry Yuri, you got any black jokes?”

“Black?”

“Yeah, racist stuff, you can tell me.”

“Oh ya, what do you call black woman with braces?”

“Lay it on me bro.”

“Black and deckah peckah wreckah.”

Antwan laughed out loud, “Where’d you learn that shit Yuri?”

“Reynolds tell me.”

“Figured as much.”

“Okay,” Yuri laughed, “You go now, need help with armor?”

“Maybe a little, a Czech, a Jew, and a brotha walk into a bar….”

“But Mousie, thou art no thy lane,

In proving foresight may be vain:

The best-laid schemes o’ mice an’ men

Gang aft agley,

An’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain,

For promis’d joy!”

Robert Burns, “To a Mouse, on Turning Her Up in Her Nest with the Plough,” 1785