Robofootball: Doublespin

The Robocats got the ball at the 20 after the touchback on the opening 2nd half kickoff. The #60 safety was on the special teams but avoided getting blocked or drilled in the hip. With Antwan being worked on by Yuri, Jess did not get in a groove with his remaining receivers. When they were open, Jess was being rushed; when they were not so open and Jess made a good pass, they invariably dropped it or it was batted away. After one first down made at their own 32 after a 12-yard catch by the tight end on a 3rd and 10, two more incomplete passes left them with another 3rd and 10.

The defense slipped back and Rudy called a draw to Ichiro’s #21. The play worked as Ichiro found a hole in the line, then burst between a tight gap that was closing very quickly between two linebackers, only to run straight into the #60 safety that was bursting in the same gap from the opposite end of the field. Ichiro swiveled his controls right and lowered his player’s head and collided unintentionally with the vulnerable hip joint of #60. The joint clearly cracked and a sharp piece from a broken pipe-like joint sheared off and lodged directly into the head of Ichiro’s #21. The camera eye was broken and the thin conduit cable that made up part of the neck joint was severed as well. In short, both players went down and each team’s colorfully embossed sweeper wagon came in to mop up the carnage. It was a bit of an unexpected blow to both teams. Texas was down to one Gen 3 secondary player, #57, a corner, and Michigan was now down to one of Ichiro’s prize design running backs, #20.

On the next play, a linebacker and the #57 corner blitzed, and Jess hummed the ball to the tight end whose number had been called. Despite constant beratement by Rudy and Reynolds, the controller for the tight end did not recognize the urgency of the play and did not turn around in time when Jess released the ball. The ball struck the tight end in the side of the head and unfortunately, into the hands of the linebacker who had been dogging the tight end with single coverage. Jess avoided the hits from the encroaching defenders, but in the heat of the moment, he was really pissed off as was Rudy and Reynolds. Giving absolutely no thought to his well being, Jess ran the linebacker down and took him out at the knees. The pass had only traveled about 6 yards though it was meant to go 10. Since Jess had seen the interception first, he was also the first to react quickest to it. There was a collective sigh of relief as he got up and scampered angrily over to the side line. None of the Tin Can controllers reacted in time to take a potshot at Jess, not even a late hit attempt. The Tin Cans would only manage 4 yards on two runs and were stopped by a wobbly incomplete pass. They still managed to boot a 45 yard field goal to take a 20-14 lead.

On the next series, to the pleasant surprise of both Reynolds and Jess, Antwan was back. Jess had a field day against the weakened secondary especially since his #1 receiver was back though Antwan sported a big #7 on his chest and back. The Tin Cans were still keying in on the run hoping to knock out the last of Michigan’s superior running backs. Every human involved on both sides of the ball knew this, whether it was the 2 Robocat players or the coaches. The time was now to get the passing game in order. Jess hit Antwan on a quick slant, then on an easy down and out, then a slant hitch and go, and they even gained 22 yards on a nice reverse to Antwan when Ichiro passed the ball along while going in the opposite direction. The drive ended with Antwan leaping over the shorter #57 Gen 3 corner to haul in the touchdown.

Like the NFL, secondary RFL players were built for speed and quickness, and were generally several inches below the 6’6” maximum height allowed. Antwan on the other hand stood the full 6’6” with his head gear and Jess took full advantage of the height discrepancy by throwing the ball high enough so that only Antwan could reach it. The 2nd string kicker was back, but 2nd string was somewhat relative since the kicker was basically a clone of the 1st stringer who was out for the game. The Tin Cans tried to hit the kicker again, but this time, the blocking was so effective that no defender had an opportunity for a late hit. Midway through the third, it was Michigan 21 and Texas 20.

If anything, the reckless abandon and ultimate smash’em up contest only intensified at the game progressed. Some newspapers would refer to it as the “Carnage Bowl” the following day given the number of robot players swept off the field. The sweepers would need an overhaul too after the game since they rarely had any down time. On the following kickoff, it didn’t quite go out of the end zone, about 8 yards deep instead of the full 10, but surprisingly, the Tin Cans brought it out, and that was for one reason only. They only made it to their own 9 yard line; nevertheless, they sent 2 players after the kicker and broke both of its legs. The Texas fans, as obnoxious as those in the Big Apple, cheered wildly while the sweepers came in. Reynolds and even Rudy, despite being called the Gorilla, was fairly low key, laid back, even-tempered, and not prone to rage unless really pushed, but now his buttons had been pressed. Rudy let loose a string of obscenities that would have made a group of sailors blush. To add the proverbial insult to injury, no penalty was called as it was ruled a legitimate blocking scheme. The controller for the kicker had made the mistake of jogging too far down the field wrongfully assuming a touchback. Reynolds couldn’t fault him too much as he was caught by surprise too.

The game got uglier if at all possible. In retaliation, Reynolds, with Dino’s help, put 8 players on the line with whoever got through with strict orders to destroy the Texas quarterback. The two out receivers were given 1-on-1 coverage with corners and 1 lone linebacker played up the middle. One of the receivers beat one of the corners with a head fake, and with no safety help, ran full throttle down the sideline a full 5 yards ahead of the defender. The pass was short by 2 yards, but the receiver had enough time and cushion to adjust, catch it, and still score a touchdown after getting by with a stiff arm to the corner.

As a consolation prize, Reynolds got his man. The nose tackle got there first, and taking a page from the Texas handbook on ethical behavior, just wrapped his massive arms around the QB and held him. A guard burst through next and hit the throwing shoulder as instructed over and over again by Reynolds until the 3 players went down into a heap. An end and a tackle piled on and the quarterback was down, and out. There was additional pushing and shoving, more piling on, and taking another page from the Tin Can play book, one of the Robocat defensive tackles was able to dislocate the arm of the Tin Can half back when everyone else wanted a piece of the QB. When it was over, 2 Robocat linemen had to be removed from the field while the Tin Cans lost their prized quarterback, a running back, and a guard. It cost the Robocats a 15 yard penalty on the ensuing kickoff and the lead too as the Tin Cans kicked the extra point to take a 27-21 advantage in the score.

Reynolds’ bloodlust was up and he conferred with Rudy to call plays with maximum damage in mind to the opposition. The Robocats had 2 healthy 6-foot 300-pound fullbacks and used them as lead blockers with the intention of taking out the knees or pulling off arms, holding penalties be damned. When Antwan had to block, he kept missing #57’s hip, but got a more fragile Gen 2 safety instead. The Gen 2 players were never as durable as the Gen 3’s or the Gen 1’s for that matter, and at Reynolds’ urging, he wanted them disabled. He promised cash that he didn’t have on him and he’d be writing a check pad full of checks when the game was over.

Despite the penalty-ridden mayhem, the Tin Can defense was suffering. Jess was picking them apart with Antwan and an occasional other receiver. When the secondary fell back, he audiblized a delay or a short pass to Ichiro’s #20. If they stepped up too close, Antwan would beat them down field. They hooked up together on a nice 29 yard cross field pass for a touchdown as the record books would list it, but Jess threw it more like 49 as he had scrambled left when Antwan was running right, but it was still right on the money. Jess was called by Rudy to kick the extra point and he got the ball up a little higher this time, unlike his line drive kickoff. He was not by any means a great kicker, but he was confident out to about 25 yards, an extra point was only about 17. He got the extra point through with about 8 or 9 yards to spare. He neatly sidestepped a rusher who was gunning for him well after the ball had split the uprights.

Michigan regained the lead, 28-27, but more importantly, they were ahead on the injury count, 13 players out as opposed to 16 for Texas. 9 of the 16 for the Tin Cans were Gen 3’s which left them with a lot of weaker Gen 2 backups. Jess accidentally kicked the ball out of bounds at the Texas 18, but at least he did not have to run for his life during the kick. It did however give the Tin Cans the ball at the 40. For the first time in the game, the Robocats forced a 3 and out. With the Gen 3 ranks decreasing, the Kettering designs under the direction of Doc Holliday were proving to be superior to the Gen 2 backups. The quarterback particularly was not as crisp or as mobile as the 1st string Gen 3, more computer programming error, less precise angles, and less mobility. The Gen 3 Tin Can kicker however was good, and got the punt just inside the 15 yard line of the Robocats. For some reason, Reynolds and his coaches did not stoop to the level of targeting the opposing kicker, everything else had been fair game.

It was no secret either that the Tin Cans had as much bloodlust as Reynolds if not more. Jess, Ichiro’s #20, and Antwan all had targets as big as a country fair dunk tank on their fronts, backs, and especially the body joints. After an 11-yard pass to Antwan, and a couple of decent runs, 7 and 8 yards respectively by Ichiro, the Tin Cans got to Antwan again. Perhaps Jess had gone to the well once too often, but the Texas team set up Antwan like Sonny Corleone in The Godfather. The #57 gen 3 corner had been dogging him ever since its sister models went down, was ordered to hang back a good 5 yards. The right side linebacker was cheating over a bit, but was also coached to leave a 5-yard cushion. The weirdest decision of all was the bringing in of a blocky 300-pound Gen 1 safety that hadn’t seen any playing time since early in the first season.

With that type of cushion, Jess bit and flung an easy pass to Antwan after a barely perceptible head nod to freeze him. Antwan caught the pass as the corner cut off the side line like a border collie herding the sheep inward. Antwan could easily have driven into the corner and gone out of bounds for a 4 or 5 yard gain, but head visions of some serious YACs by turning inward. He made 8 yards before the trap was closed. The corner and linebacker came at him from the sides, but to Antwan’s confusion, he prepared for the expected hits that did not come. Both defensive players each grabbed one of his arms instead and held him as the big lumbering safety came forward. Gen 1’s had less intricate parts in favor of more raw steel.

The whistle blew since it was determined by the line judge sitting comfortably in his raised chair that forward progress had been stopped, but it was too late for Antwan. The brawny safety was less than a yard away when the whistle sounded and plowed Antwan in his upper arm, the real arm like a pile driver without slowing in the least. The left arm just happened to be the one that was somewhat tilted forward. Antwan’s armor gave way and was pressed so hard into Antwan’s arm that the humerus cracked, slightly, more in the realms of a hairline fracture, but broken just the same. To make matters worse, Antwan was not down and the ball popped out. Simultaneously after the big crunching hit, the corner and the linebacker let go as Antwan slid to the ground with nothing more than a low level grunt clutching his human arm with his prosthetic one. He felt like he had been run over by a slow moving garbage truck.

The corner picked up the ball and ran it down the sideline to the Robocat 18 when it was none other than Jess again who lowered his shoulder and forced #57 out of bounds. #57 was their fastest player on defense and luckily there had been no entourage following to take a cheap shot at Jess, but the blow hurt Jess some too. A nice bruise would form on his throwing shoulder, but nothing clearly broken like Antwan’s arm. Jess got up as Reynolds, Rudy, and Dino stared at the big screen in the war room with their mouths agape; however, Antwan did not. Jess had all he could do not to race down the field to see about his friend, but it was Antwan who had always reminded him that he could not be human on the field.

To the relief of those in the know, Antwan did get up on his own but was holding his arm. The armor had broken too, and Reynolds ordered him off of the field quickly. Last thing he needed was a discovery of one of his players in the flesh. Fortunately, there were no humans near as Antwan was thrown on the cart and whisked to the locker room. There was an advantage to having black skin as just a little of the dark coloring had become visible beneath the cracked armor, but white skin would definitely have shown more prominently like a lone piece of glass in a bright sunshiny parking lot. Some blood had pooled under the armor, but not much showed on the outside. To the cameras, it just looked like a hydraulic fluid leak, the reddish-brown colored kind. Reynolds called ahead to the office and Dr. Hobson would earn a little bonus pay for setting the arm and cleaning Antwan up.

The play was reviewed, the officials conferred for several long minutes, and ruled it as a fumble. Reynolds felt half of his head turning gray to match some of the like-colored strands that were already there. It was a close bang-bang or whistle-bang play that probably could have gone either way, but protests as they always did against an official’s call, fell on deaf ears. In the meantime, Rudy and Dino switched positions and the Robocat defense came on strong again; nevertheless, the Tin Cans managed a field goal to take an early 4th quarter 30-28 lead. After another touchback, they got to Ichiro’s #20 next by pulling the old Texas Leg Pull trick. It was almost too easy given that a running back always held the distinction of being the most tackled player on a team.

On a short yardage situation, Rudy made the mistake of not using the fullback. They had relied on Ichiro for so long it was if there was no other option. Ichiro leaped to make a 1-yard first down, and it seemed like half the Texas team jumped on top of #20 needlessly. Sure enough, when the pile was unraveled, there lay #20 with a grotesquely twisted leg. All the Robocats had left as a starter in the backfield was a lone fullback, relatively short at 5’10” in height and 300 pounds of pure blocking tempered steel muscle, but not the best option for running. The other fullback had gone down with a hip flexor.

It was all on his shoulders now and Jess knew it. Though not as good as Antwan as far as adjustments were concerned, the controllers ran good routes, made easier by the beat-up Tin Can secondary. Jess just had to stick more to the basics, hit them if they were open at the end of their routes, don’t rush things like he had in New York, and throw it away if they weren’t open. His throwing shoulder was throbbing a bit too, but he’d have to put that out of his mind. Then he did the unthinkable on another pass play. The Tin Can secondary was weak, so weak that they were putting Gen 3 receivers of their own to guard the Robocat counterparts. With Ichiro’s players out, the Tin Cans were stacking the secondary daring Jess to throw. With the receivers blanketed like white on rice and the middle suddenly wide open, Jess tucked the ball in and ran. He went 12 yards before a linebacker came at him, he spun clockwise and the linebacker got nothing but air, two yards further, he spun counterclockwise to avoid the big lumbering Gen 1 safety. The safety missed him worse than the linebacker. Only the speedy #57 corner chased him down from a side angle slant after Jess gained 22 yards.

Jess was fine as Reynolds could literally feel more of his hair turning gray and his stomach ulcer pulsing. They tried a running play to the full back, but it was slow and bulky, nowhere near the finesse of Ichiro’s designs. It gained only 2 yards and that was generous by a foot. The Robocats were only a few yards outside the Red Zone, but their kickers were disabled and Yuri could do nothing in time for them. There was no way Jess could kick a 40-yarder. The average man over estimates his athletic ability and would be lucky to kick a 20-yard field goal. Jess was in the best physical shape of his life thanks to some of Hobson’s unorthodox methods, but even he was only confident at about 25 yards, maybe 1 or 2 more. Few realized what a rare human it was who could kick a 50-yarder. It took a good deal of practice and exercise to accompany a genetic pre-disposition for the task.

All of the receivers were double covered and Jess threw one away to avoid being mangled by the ever-present Texas rushers, whose offensive coordinator did everything short of stacking 8 on the line like Reynolds had ordered earlier. On a 3rd down and 8 at the Texas 23, Jess dropped back to pass. He had time, but no one was breaking free. He had an urge to run and did roll right, but still hoped to throw to his main option. A keen alert controller ran his receiver back up the field a bit as Jess fired the ball between the “1” and “0” on his painted #10 torso, but the player dropped it. The shoulder was tightening a little and Jess began flexing his arm in an attempt to keep it loose. Reynolds called a timeout to think about the next play. They were down by 2, but with the kickers out, a 40-yard field goal was not doable, especially after Jess chattered with Rudy on how the distance was well out of his reach.

There was nothing to do but just go for it. Rudy called a screen to the lanky fullback and it seemed to be set up well. The fullback caught the ball but stumbled as the controller tried to lurch forward too abruptly. The speedy #57 corner came out and took the fullback’s legs 2 yards short of the 1st down. The stumble was just enough to make the heart-breaking difference. The Tin Cans took the ball over on downs at their own 17.

Three and out. With Reynolds cursing and yelling “Kill the Bastards,” the Robocat defense played the Grant-to-Lee numbers game. Reynolds didn’t care if one of his players went down as long as a Tin Can got kicked and busted up too. With the Gen 2 Texas quarterback and a lot of Gen 2 backups, the offense was no match for the defense. The problem was that Texas had the lead and on the other side of the ball, Jess and his offense were suffering many of the same problems. Another problem was that Texas now held a huge advantage in the kicking game. The Tin Can kicker dropped a beautiful 55 yard punt and the speedy #57 Gen 3 corner, despite numerous attempts to give it a good hip check, made the tackle on special teams after a 3-yard return. The #57 corner was indeed turning out to be the Texas MVP in the game. Ichiro usually doubled as a return specialist, but his #22, #21, and #20 had all been knocked out.

Three an out. It happened for Reynolds this time due to a slight malfunction that was discovered too late to save the drive. Antwan’s #7 clone suffered sensor troubles on its sensitive padded hands. The magnetic polarization accidentally reversed during some rough play, and instead of attracting the ball like it usually did, it repelled it instead, twice in a row before the controller, and consequently the coaches, Rudy and Reynolds, were made aware of it. Jess had made two good throws on the money despite the stiffening and throbbing in his shoulder; nevertheless, the #7 turned out to be a dud with the bad hands. Either throw would have netted a first down.

Jess punted, but only a net 30 yards out of bounds. Surprisingly, the Tin Cans did not come after him like the previous kickers. It wasn’t difficult for Reynolds to surmise that they were now trying to nurse that 2 point lead as precious time ticked off in the 4th quarter. Football was always like a game of chess from a coach’s perspective, which in and of itself was based on an old East Indian war game. Strategy, tactics, moves, countermoves, and careful decision making were all necessary to achieve victory. Texas was winning the 4th quarter based on field position with superior kicking. The Robocats had lost 20 yards of field position on punts, and would lose 10 more on the next Tin Can punt. Three and out again for the Tin Cans but more precious time ticked off as they ran all running plays for a second time in a row to burn time like the destruction of a rainforest.

Jess found himself and his team at their own 27 yard line with 3:21 to go, down by 2 points. If the score remained 30-28, Dano Verlucci would still make money on all of his side bets, but would not get his highly sought after stake in a big Vegas casino. Reynolds would lose his bonus. There were no good running backs left, and the Robocat receivers were proving to be somewhat of a weakness with Antwan gone. Time was short, the #7’s were gone, and there was still one starting tight end, a #12, and one last decent Kettering model receiver, a #9. The #9 had been catching the ball better than the tight end as Jess had mentally noted. #9 would have to be his new #1 go to guy. The wart in the mix was that damn Tin Can controller for their last true Gen 3 secondary player, and that was #57 on the defense. The dude was like Deion Sanders or Charles Woodson in their prime, all over the field, and Jess made a 2nd mental note to try and throw away from #57 whenever possible. That same #57 had been assigned to the Robocat #7 the entire game, whether it was Antwan or the clone. The first thing Jess did when lining up for the snap was to locate #57, see who it was guarding, and then throw to someone else.

The Tin Cans played a semi-prevent defense and started using #57 more as a free safety. When #57 played deep, Jess threw short passes underneath for some short gains, alternating between his #12 tight end and #9 receiver. He yipped at Rudy to remind the controllers for these 2 to be ready at all times to receive the ball. On a 3rd and one the big blocky full back could be counted on to plow for that yard, maybe two. When #57 snuck up closer, particularly to shadow his #9 guy, Jess looked to the other side of the field either for the #12 tight end or an old Gen 2 backup receiver that had been pressed into service. Short passes that weren’t thrown too hard seemed to work best for them. Jess aimed more for the sideline routes so the controllers could get them out of bounds when possible to stop the clock. After 2 first downs and a yard short of midfield, the 2-minute warning automatically stopped the game. Jess’s bruised shoulder did not need the timeout. It was better to keep it active before the stiffness and soreness really set in. It continued to stiffen the second he let it rest and it hurt more every time he threw, but like all tough football players, he played through the pain and tried to put it out of his mind when he could.

Rudy and Reynolds laid it all in Jess’s hands. Take anything the defense gave them, but even with a lot of Gen 2 backups and a slow moving zombie-like Gen 1 safety, the Robocats were lacking that explosive factor in the running game with all of Ichiro’s players out. The Tin Cans adjusted by playing tighter in the secondary, chucking the runners, rushing their front 4 while dropping 7 into coverage, maybe keeping a linebacker or two closer to the line to prevent a surprise run with the easy option of dropping back into coverage. Like the old NFL, the RFL required that 7 players be within a yard on the offensive line of scrimmage. The center, guards, and tackles ordinarily made up 5, 2 wide outs got to 7, Jess and his fullback protector made 9, and the other 2 at the moment were a combination of tight ends or receivers. The 4 defensive linemen were giving the Robocat 5 or even 6 all they could handle with the fullback picking off anyone who got through too quickly; nevertheless, that ordinarily left 7 defenders guarding 3 or 4 receivers/tight ends, which in all practicality, meant that virtually every Robocat who went downfield and was legally able to catch the ball, was double teamed. It was Jess’s challenge to find one who was not.

Aside from blocking and gaining a good yard or 2 on straight plowing, Jess audiblized an out right side toss to the fullback when the right side receivers went deeper drawing the defenders down field with them. The left receiver and tight end veered further left away from the play. The fullback lumbered a good 10 yards before being pushed out of bounds at the Tin Can 41. Good call, but the Robocats probably wouldn’t be able to pull that one off again, and they were fast running out of good or creative calls.

On the next play, 2 defenders broke through the line. The fullback picked one up and Jess barely scrambled around the other one and threw the ball away rather than take a sack. His somewhat tender throwing shoulder took a glancing smack and he gritted his teeth resisting the urge to display human like tendencies of pain and favoritism by clutching it. On the next play, Jess just missed. He had a receiver split between two defenders that did not include the #57 corner, but it was very tight and would have required a very precise throw. He underestimated the pain just a tad and the throw came up a yard short. It actually hit the leg of the defender in front of his receiver, but the ball bounced harmlessly to the ground for an incomplete pass. 3rd and 10 now at the Tin Can 41 with time at 1:44.

He had to throw, no question, or did he? Rudy called an obvious pass play, a simple down and out with the threat of death to the controllers to go downfield at least 10 yards. They had to throw, Jess knew it, the Tin Cans knew it, hell, everyone in the stands new it, but the receivers were covered and pressure was coming up the middle from the nose guard. The center got caught in a torn piece of carpet within the artificial turf. With metal parts breaking all day into jagged pieces at times that were driven into the turf, the playing surface was getting severely hacked up as the game went on. The center’s leg bent when the foot stuck and the nose guard ran right over him, severing the center’s leg like Bruno breaking a 2” x 4” or some unlucky schmuck’s arm. In the meantime, the fullback protector had to deal with the left defensive end that had broken freely around the offensive tackle. If that wasn’t enough, there was a linebacker creeping up over the disabled center sensing blood like a hungry shark. If bad luck came in 4’s, there was positively no one open, especially when 2 receivers converged in the same area nearly running into each other on simple crossing routes. That made it that much easier for the defenders as a crowd gathered in the vicinity like women around one of their own with newborn baby pictures.

Jess had little option but to rely on his old high school instincts. He spun a complete clockwise 360 to avoid the charging nose tackle that barely grazed him with an outstretched arm. When the linebacker slanted toward his new position, Jess spun counterclockwise another complete circle. Double Spin. The linebacker grazed past him and all of a sudden the middle of the field was wide open like a newly plowed farm field. By this time, the cross-route receivers had passed the hash marks and were on their way to the sidelines, taking a lot of defenders and their momentum with them. Five yards, 10 yards, first down! Fifteen yards, and at 18, the #57 wrapped up Jess around the waist and slammed him to the ground, right on his sore shoulder. Jess cried out a little “AHH!” but only Rudy heard him through his ear piece.

“Shit, you okay kid?” Rudy called out.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go, the clock is ticking, spike it?”

“Yeah, do it!” Rudy said and then yelled at the controllers, “Get your damn lazy asses to the line, Spike! Spike!” It wasn’t quite as easy getting the mechanical monsters lined up as people, but then Rudy shouted “Time Out! Time Out!” Reynolds relayed it to their sideline rep. At the attempted hurry-up for the spike, they finally noticed that the center was unable to get up. With 1:07 left on the clock, the Robocats had only 1 timeout left with the ball on the Tin Cat 23 yard line. They were down by 2 points and normally in field goal range, but without a kicker, it may as well have been at their own 23 given the distance.

The Robocats needed some quick outs but the Tin Cans were ready for them. The next down was wasted when the backup center hiked the ball over Jess’s head. Jess was able to track it down, and launch it out of bounds near enough to a receiver to avoid a penalty before the defenders caught up to him. A team, no matter how good the players, did not win 27 straight games without some superior coaching. Football was huge in Texas, 2 prior NFL teams, numerous big college names, and even high school stadiums that were larger on average than most college ones in the country. Football may not have been born here, but nonetheless, Texas always had a reputation for always doing things bigger than necessary though not necessarily better. In short, there were no coaching dummies or half wits in the Tin Can war room. Then again, it was still impossible to cover every little speck on the field within every moment of the w-coordinate, time.

The defense gave Jess a tiny amount of room up the middle, daring him to throw a 3 or 4-yard pass to the tight end which would keep the clock running. After a combined royal dressing down by Rudy and Reynolds, the next snap of the ball was clean and for an instant, Jess’s #9 receiver made a nifty cut and got open on the side line. The #57 corner was on the other side of the field too. Jess slightly overcompensated for his sore shoulder and overthrew him, 0:54 left. On the next play, Jess took the small cushion allowed up the middle as there were no other options. Jess hit his #12 tight end 4 yards past the line of scrimmage, and the lumbering lunkhead netted 2 more before a linebacker and the #57 corner took him down. Time out was called by Rudy who got the nod from Reynolds. 46 ticks left on the clock, 4th down and 4 at the Tin Can 19 yard line, down by 2 points, and well within normal field goal range. At this point, the bold Texas strategy of taking out the kickers had really paid off.

“Can you kick it?” Rudy had to ask.

“No way, it’d be 36 yards, can’t do it, even if I didn’t have all this damn equipment on and a strong wind at our back.”

“We’re out of time outs kid, you can maybe do one more in bounds, but it’ll have to be spiked as fast as possible. Try for the sidelines first, but we gotta get a 1st down or it’s over.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Okay, let’s try Flanker Crossbow for #9, he’ll streak across the whole field 5 or 6 yards out, get the first down, and maybe go out of bounds if we’re lucky; if not, spike it afterward. As a secondary, let’s push the fullback down the sideline too, hit’em if he’s open. If neither of them work….”

“Yeah, I know, it’s up to me,” said Jess, “Let’s do it.”

The snap was nearly a full yard off to Jess’s right. He snagged it low but his momentum carried him several steps away from his #9 receiver and threw the timing off on what was supposed to be a quick hit 1st down play. The receiver was open for a second but that pesky #57 corner adjusted on a dime, was a tad quicker, and got in front of #9 by the time Jess was set to throw. Pain shot through his shoulder and he saw the fullback out of the corner of his eye stop at the first down marker over on the left side line. The bad snap had forced Jess too far right to make the throw to the fullback in time as a linebacker was breaking on the fullback. There was little choice but to just tuck it and run. It seemed to Jess that the entire Tin Can defense came at him hungry like an inordinately large pack of hyenas closing in on an exhausted limping gazelle. The end was near.

Jess summoned up whatever he had inside him and ran like the wind. He beat the end to the right corner at about the line of scrimmage, barely. Two linebackers, the big lurch-like Gen 1 safety, and the #57 corner were closest and all rushing him. Jess made two positive yards when the nearest linebacker dove for his legs and got a hold of his left ankle. Jess pulled forward a foot, but the hold became vice-like with the other linebacker and the #57 corner bearing down on him. The clunky safety and the rest of the defense would not make it, but 3 defenders was more than enough especially given that one held his ankle, and was now twisting it to bring him down. In the war room, Rudy was sweating bullets despite the air conditioning thermostat set at 64 degrees to keep the control room cool. Reynolds had been shitting so many bricks to the point that his head would have hit the ceiling if it had been a literal event. Jess was in a precarious position with a high probability of serious injury.

The corner was quicker and arrived a split second before the other approaching linebacker as Jess, in an intense state of focus, took a deep heavy breath, summoned his inner strength again fueled by an adrenaline rush, and then let out the air as he dove for the bright orangish-red 1st down marker. The #57 dove too for Jess’s #18 but went nearly over the top of Jess as Jess went downward in his own dive. #57’s steel-titanium lightweight alloy shoe-like foot connected with Jess’s right shoulder, but it was more of a glance; nevertheless, it sent another sharp stab of pain down Jess’s arm as he let out a subdued yelp. He wanted to scream out like that one painting of the same name combined with a string of obscenities like those of a roofer who just sunk a 2 inch nail into his upper thigh with a nail gun. He had been accustomed to keep quiet nearly at all times on the field as Antwan’s words and warnings soothed him. Human attributes had to be constantly masked and voice was one of the most obvious.

It looked like he had made the 1st down as he had fully extended his 6’3” frame not counting the extra couple of inches made up by his full head shielding, along with extending the ball forward too with his outstretched hand. It was a moot point however. When he was clearly down, the racing linebacker piled on him with a cheap shot knocking the wind out of him while bruising his ribs. Nothing was broken, but he had to take one for the team. He had made the 15 yard line, but the late hit penalty on the linebacker placed the ball half the distance to the goal line, just inside the Tin Can 8 yard line. Now they were truly within his field goal kicking range, at least when he was healthy. Aside from his right throwing shoulder, his ribs hurt and his left ankle was swelling up too where it had been severely twisted.

There was no time to rest or recover. Jess had to suck it up, glad to do so when the air came back to his lungs. Rudy was wondering if his ear piece was malfunctioning when he heard the gasping. Antwan would tell him later that he was visibly limping, but Jess didn’t know it. He did kick with his right foot which for the moment, did seem to be undamaged, it was the left that would soon no longer fit into one of his normal shoes for a few days, but now, like the shoulder, if he kept it active, he could deal with the inevitable swelling until after the game. The play had taken all of 7 seconds off the clock. Since he had gotten out of bounds, the clock had stopped. That was another moot point as well since a penalty on the defense in under 2 minutes automatically stopped the clock too.

“We’re gonna kick it kid,” Jess heard Rudy the Gorilla’s voice resonating somewhat distantly in his head. “Run one up the middle with the fullback, FULLBACK SHORTCUT 24, line up, run the time off, spike it, then we’ll kick, okay?”

“Yeah sure,” Jess relayed thinking that it was a good thing he wouldn’t have to pass or run any longer, he wasn’t sure if he had much gas left in the tank. It was already beeping repeatedly on empty and the miles to go was zeroes everywhere except for the far right tenths column. Up shit creek without a paddle, and a hole in the boat, but he was still floating. The snap was off again, 2 feet to the left as the controller for the backup center tried to compensate for his right-oriented gaffe last time. Jess snagged it and all he had to do was pitch it to the fullback. The fullback clutched it tightly with both hands and went straight up the middle as the controller had been ordered to do. There would be no fumble as Reynolds would surely shoot the controller if he did. The controller got the message loud and clear and did not attempt any stiff arms with both hands securely on the ball. Surprisingly, the mighty fullback plowed ahead 4 yards before the nose tackle, a linebacker, and the ever-present #57 corner dragged him down.

Jess was able to manage the clock just fine, and it was down to 11 seconds when everyone was lined up. He signaled for the snap at 7 seconds and promptly spiked it to bring the clock down to 4 seconds. It was 2nd down and goal at the Tin Can 4-yard line. The Robocats were down 30-28 and just needed a short field goal for the win. Jess was actually grateful that the Tin Cans called 1 of their 2 remaining timeouts as he was lining up to kick. His shoulder was really stiffening and his left ankle swelling, but things were happening so fast and furious that he needed a quick breather. He got another one when they lined up again and Texas used their final timeout in a last desperate measure to find a way to block the kick.

Even at his young age of 19 years, Jess thought that the whole timeout thing in an attempt to freeze a kicker was downright silly and statistics supported his view. Seriously, especially at the pro level, was an extra minute or two really going to adversely affect a past NFL kicker who had been doing it his entire life? Jess took a few deep breaths on the sideline, would love to have had some Gatorade or even water, but that was strictly banned for him since it was locked away in Reynolds’ office. He had some at the end of the 3rd quarter when he last snuck back. For now, he had a chance for a couple of practice kicks into a net along the sideline to get his mechanics right. It would be somewhat painful to step off the left foot, but he could suck it up for one little play. He had booted an extra point, kicked off twice, and had done some limited punting too. A 21-yard attempt was barely more than an extra point and within his confidence interval from a statistical standpoint. Hell, it was just a yard and a half more than an extra point, easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy as his mom would say. He just had to remember to kick it up a bit, get under it a little more since he was prone to line drives. Just a firm pop-up, only incredibly long field goals required lower liners.

He thought about Carly and how she had tutored him in Algebra and Geometry. Like Antwan she had told him corny math jokes, probably to mellow for Antwan: “What did the little acorn say when it grew up?” “Gee-om-a-tree.” “Why are math books so sad?” “It’s because they have a lot of problems.” He laughed to himself and though that Carly would work out some quadratic equation or geometry curve for him. She had taken the time once to show him how more arc on his jump shot in basketball increased the probability that it would drop in.

The whistle sounded to break him out of his reverie, giving the Robocats 25 seconds to run the play. He partially ran out on the field going as fast as his bad ankle would take him to join the majority of the team that was already there, and beginning to line up too. Jess checked the spotter’s position and made sure there was no turf tear or upraised seems where the ball would be placed. He carefully took 2 normal paces back, and then one and a half steps to the side. This was his own ideal set-up placement so he would time his strides and technique perfectly when he made contact with the ball. His shoulder and ribs hurt some, but by thinking of them, it took his mind off the pain in his ankle. The tightly armored shoe had prevented significant swelling and it would not impede his approach to the ball.

The field goal was doomed to fail. The ball was snapped and that’s when the best laid plans or schemes of mice and men blew up like a firecracker in the eager hands of an 8-year old boy. Two things Jess had not counted on that he had dismissed from his mind. He had gotten himself so fully focused and psyched for the kick, that he had forgotten that both the snapper and the holder were backups. The usual 1st stringers had been injured. It didn’t matter much to the spotter because the ball sailed over its back on Jess’s right side facing forward. The spotter tried to adjust and catch it, but it hit its backside and bounced behind him. It was something that one might expect from the truly horrible teams like Arkansas or Daytona or from the Robocats in 2019 as it was clearly an amateurish play worthy of clunky Gens 1’s only. Snapping the ball by a human player would have taken little more than a few reps to get it right, but with a robot, it usually took a controller a few hundred.

Jess had only made one step forward, one giant leap for mankind, or one to begin that 1,000 mile journey, but since the trip destination fell apart, he had to rely on his instincts to kick in as there was no time to think, just react. If there was one lucky break, the ball bounced in his general direction, and with two more steps to his right, he caught the ball on a fortunate hop like a shortstop or a 3rd basemen who get that sweet little liner and a clean 1st bounce straight smack into their glove without having to move out of their position, except for maybe a single step forward, the kind of catch that they could make with their eyes closed. With the ball firmly in his hand, Jess’s first inclination was to throw, but there were no receivers, all blockers, and even the eligible tight ends were blocking out the corners in an arced or somewhat semicircular pattern for maximum protection on the kick. No matter how much Jess had pissed and moaned, not a single controller moved a tight end toward the end zone or even looked back at Jess for that matter. No choice, he had to run with his gimpy foot with 11 defenders in the way. Nearly half were tied up on the line, but several were free to pursue him, including that damn agile #57 corner.

Jess had one famous move or series of moves in his repertoire, the double spin. He had used it so much in high school that opposing coaches got wise to it, and learned how to anticipate and defend it, but not so in the RFL. He had used it against New York but very sparingly throughout the regular season. He had used it twice against the Tin Cans, not quite enough for them to get overly wise in their adjustments or as far as to develop a setup counter play like they had done to Antwan. There was the hard-fastened rule that quarterbacks rarely ran in the RFL and the Robocats were no exception. Jess had to will himself forward, no choice, no time to dilly-dally from side to side. A defensive guard was the first to break through the line but the controller for the ball spotter alertly went low and took the legs out cleanly. It got Jess to the 5.

A linebacker materialized at Jess’s right, spin, clockwise, and the linebacker was in Jess’s rearview mirror, it would have been anyhow if he’d had one. He was on the 3 ½ yard line when another defensive lineman, an extra end, came at him from his left facing forward, go back one short half step, spin counterclockwise, and this one went past him too with little more than a wind brush. Then there was a brief opening ahead, but his peripheral vision through the holes in the side of his head gear picked up dual closing linebackers, one from each side. Closing in from the front was the damn pesky #57 corner. Dino was right in targeting those Gen 3 secondary players, they were inordinately quick. It was probably only a half a second too before those two defenders that he had spun around would be coming at him from his hind side as well. The trap was closing and it was a big one, like a bad ass bear trap.

A linebacker left, another right, 2 monsters behind him, and a corner straight ahead. There was no time to sit back and think, just more primal instinct and reaction. If he slowed for an instant, he’d be caught from behind. The slightest move or detour left or right and one of the linebackers would crush him like a steel-toed boot on a cricket before he could reach the goal line. As the confident captain of the Titanic once said, “Full speed ahead and the obstacles be damned” or something like that, but everyone knew how that one turned out; then again, every individual situation was different. Jess may have been the makeshift captain of the Robocats, but to hell if he was going down with the ship, and if he was, by god he was going down fighting with his armored boots on.

Sore shoulder, cracked ribs, bad ankle and all, Jess darted forward, dead ahead, almost as fast as Ichiro was at his controls. The #57 corner had crossed the 1 yard line and was nearly at the 2 when Jess lowered his entire upper body, bending with a flexibility that no robot player could equally match, and smashed into the corner like an angry bull in his fighting ring taking out the horse and picador together with one incredibly powerful thrust of the horns. The #57 corner leaped outward at the same moment as Jess; simultaneously, the linebackers left their collective feet from the sides like mortars from a launch tube. Jess’s hardened head gear connected with #57’s hip joint and it somersaulted Jess around a full 180 degrees so that he was flying through the air like the final moment of a high jumper. The lighter agile corner was propelled backwards as Jess’s total body weight with armor had him by a good 70 pounds, but the linebackers made an impact as well.

One drilled Jess right in the rib cage, and despite the armor, two were instantly fractured, not horrible ones that outright splintered any bones, but decent splits a little wider than typical hair lines. The blow was under and to the side and lifted Jess 2 to 3 inches as he was gliding forward upside down. It happened a split second before the other linebacker made contact and the 2nd one actually slipped under Jess with more of a glancing blow rather than a direct hit. Jess would likely have had broken ribs on both sides, but since the potential impact of the 2nd linebacker was closer to a half a second after the 1st, it proved to be a blessing in disguise. With the 2nd linebacker fully under him, Jess’s back side never hit the ground. Replays would clearly show this and Antwan would later joke that Jess was being BF’d by a robot given their relative positions after the attempted tackle. Before the 2 massive defenders behind him caught up, Jess had just enough time to extend the ball with his sore shoulder and all, up and over his head since he was technically on his back. The pain was excruciating but he strained it as far as it would go and it pierced the phantom plane of the goal line by an inch before his lights went out.

A 300 pound lineman and a 275 pound linebacker that had been pursuing him from behind piled on top of him making him the bologna between 2 thick pieces of Texas Toast on top and one on the bottom. The lineman crushed his sore ribs and the linebacker slammed downward across his face, or at least the mask covering it. With all that weight, he had trouble getting air and passed out.

Replays verified that he had clearly scored a touchdown. The ball had broken the imaginary plane and no part of Jess had hit the ground except for a foot, and a foot was certainly not considered down. Luckily, time had long since expired, and there was no need for an extra point attempt. Jess couldn’t do one if he tried now as the defensive players slowly slid off of him. His breathing returned. The crowd sat shocked and deathly quiet as they watched the replays over and over again on the massive scoreboard screens. There would be no controversy concerning the touchdown and the crowd collectively groaned even before the final official score was announced, the Michigan Robocats 34, the Texas Tin Cans 30.

Since Jess was still unconscious, he didn’t have to fake or suppress any human-like gestures of joy as the Robocat sweeper team whisked him off on a cart to the locker room. The #57 corner had finally broken down too but none of the human Robocat coaches or controllers noticed it. Reynolds, Rudy, and Dino all rushed to the locker room as well and each took a hand at ripping Jess’s armor away as Antwan watched with his left arm in a sling from the doorway in the separate connecting room where he and Dr. Hobson had been sitting. Hobson squeezed between the coaches like a paramedic on a heart attack victim.

“Come on Doc,” Reynolds urged.

“He’s breathing, heart rate is within normal parameters,” Hobson started going through a routine checklist.

“Well, is he going to live?” Reynolds pressed.

Hobson looked annoyed, if the kid was breathing, the heart rate normal, and he wasn’t bleeding from any obvious exterior spots, then of course he was going to live. “Yes,” was all he said irritatedly, then added, “But get everything off, his shirt and pants too, he may have internal bleeding.” Hobson worked around them again, checking blood pressure, peering into Jess’s eyes, checking the pulse rate, and examining the head before moving down the body carefully.

“Doc?”

“Yes, yes, got a bit of a bump on his head, probably some bruised and cracked ribs you can see for yourself, a big bruise on his right shoulder, that left ankle will require an x-ray to see if it is broken, and I’d like to MRI the skull.”

“We don’t have one of those MRI thingies,” Reynolds said, but just then, Jess stirred and opened his eyes.

“Well, there’s a good sign,” Hobson stated the obvious for a change, “Can you hear me Mr. Robinson?” Hobson questioned.

“Yeah, but Fuck! My ribs!”

“Yes, cracked ribs most likely, does that hu….?” Before he could say ‘hurt’, Jess answered him with a yelp.

“Did we win? Did we win?” Jess was trying to sit up excitedly as Reynolds and Hobson gently pressed him back down on the cart.

“Yeah kid, ya done good, you scored the winning touchdown!”

Jess smiled and allowed them to press him back down, “Cool,” he said and saw Antwan waving with a big shitty smile on his face too in the background.

“Can we get him back to Detroit?” Reynolds interrupted.

“I should hope so,” said Hobson.

“I mean like he is, in his condition.”

“We can tape up his ribs and ankle, might need some crutches or a wheelchair, but he should get to a hospital soon. He could have several broken bones and maybe a concussion too. Given his past history, I’d like to see that MRI personally.”

“All right, we’ll get you and the kid on the plane. How about you Antwan? We can probably squeeze one more on the jet.”

“Hell yeah,” said Antwan. “I need a doctor too, fucked up my good arm.”

“All right,” said Reynolds, “You two can see to the team?”

Rudy and Dino both nodded as Reynolds whipped out his phone to reach Jack and Tony. They sat in a big rented airport limo that they brought around to the visiting team service entrance. Reynolds provided Jess with a shoulder to lean on as the 4 men including Hobson and Antwan got into the limo. The victory would slowly sink in during the limo ride and even more so on the plane.

“Keep love in your heart. A life without it is like a sunless garden when the flowers are dead. The consciousness of loving and being loved brings a warmth and a richness to life that nothing else can bring.”

Oscar Wilde