Donnie: "Yep, Hindu stripped the ball on about the fifteen, we were swarming like hornets. It bounced around for about five minutes and finally rolled out of bounds at the twenty."
Ronnie: "They ran the tailback off-tackle right, no gain. Off-tackle left, no gain. Third and eleven, they dropped back to pass, Silo sacked the quarterback on the six-yard line."
Donnie: "Unfortunately, in doing so he stuffed him into the ground headfirst, fifteen yards, unsportsmanlike conduct, first down East Pike."
Silo: "It was a bad call."
Paul: "Bad call? You tried to break his neck."
Silo: "No, dear banker, I tried to kill him."
Ronnie: "We were out of our minds. Silo was growling like a wounded grizzly bear. Hindu, I swear, was crying. He wanted to blitz from safety on every play just so he could be sure he hit someone."
Donnie: "We could have stopped the Dallas Cowboys."
Blanchard: "Who was calling the defense?" Silo: "Me. It was simple-man coverage on the wideouts, knock down the tight end, eight guys in the box, everyone blitzed, everyone hit somebody, clean or not, didn't matter. It wasn't a game anymore, it was a war."
Donnie: "On third and eight, Higgins, that cocky flanker who went to Clemson, cut across the middle on a slant. The pass was high. Hindu read it perfectly, came across like a bullet train, and hit him a split second before the ball got there. Pass interference."
Paul: "His helmet went twenty feet in the air." Couch: "We were forty rows up, and it sounded like two cars hitting."
Silo: "We celebrated. We'd killed one of 'em. Got a flag for that too."
Ronnie: "Two flags, thirty yards, we didn't care. They weren't going to score, didn't matter where they put the ball." Blanchard: "You guys were convinced they couldn't score?" Silo: "No team could've scored on us in that second half. When they finally carried Higgins off the field, on a stretcher I might add, the ball was on our thirty-yard line. They ran a sweep that lost six yards, a draw that lost four, then their little quarterback went to the shotgun again and we just mauled him."
Nat: "Their punter dropped one on the three-yard line." Silo: "Yeah, they had a good punter. We, of course, had you." Nat turned up the volume:
Ninety - seven yards to go for the Spartans, just under eight minutes left in the third quarter, still no sign of Eddie Rake or any of the Spartan coaches. I watched Crenshaw when East Pike had the ball. He kept his right hand in a bucket of ice the entire time, and he kept his helmet on. Handoff left side to Mabry, who doesn't get much. Both defenses are simply sending everybody, which should set up the pass.
Silo: "Not from the three-yard line, dumbass." Paul: "Coffey always wanted to coach."
Pitch right side, Mabry bobbles the ball, then cuts upfield, got some room wide, and he's out of bounds along the ten.
Couch: "Just curious, Neely, do you know what you called next?"
Neely: "Sure, option right. I read the option, faked to Chenault, faked the pitch to Hubcap, cut upfield for eleven yards. The offensive line was chopping people down."
First and ten Spartans, who break huddle and sprint to the line of scrimmage. This is a different team, folks.
Paul: "I don't know why Buck was on the radio. Nobody was listening. The entire town was at the game."
Randy: "No, you're wrong. Everybody was listening. In the second half we were trying to find out what happened to Coach Rake, so all the Messina fans had their radios stuck to their heads."
Handoff to Chenault, who plows straight ahead for three or four. He basically just lowered his helmet and followed Silo Mooney, who is being double-teamed.
Silo: "Just two! I was insulted. The second guy was this little nasty-faced bastard, weighed about one-eighty or so, thought he was bad. Came in the game trash-talking. He'll leave the field in just a minute."
Pitch to Mabry, wide right again, and he's got some room, up to the thirty and out of bounds. An East Pike youngster is shaken up on the field.
Silo: "That's him."
Chapter Thirteen
Blanchard: "What'd you do?"
Silo: "The play swept right, away from us. I chop-blocked him, got him on the ground, then dropped a knee into his stomach. Squealed like a pig. He lasted for three plays. Never came back."
Paul: "They could've flagged us for unnecessary roughness on every play, offense or defense."
Neely: "While they dragged him off the field, Chenault tells me that their left tackle is not moving too well. Got something wrong, a twisted ankle maybe, the guy's in pain but won't leave the game. So we ran at him five straight times, same play. Six, seven yards a pop with Marcus low to the ground, just looking for someone to run over. I'd hand the ball off and watch the carnage."
Silo: "Turn it up, Nat."
First and ten on the East Pike thirty-eight. The Spartans are moving the ball but they're sure eating up the clock. Not a single pass so far in the second half. Six minutes to go. Curry in motion left, the snap, option right, the pitch to Mabry, who swings outside to the thirty! The twenty-five! All the way down to the East Pike eighteen, and the Spartans are knocking at the door!
Neely: "After every play, Mabry sprinted back to the huddle and said, 'Gimme the ball, bro, just gimme the ball.' So we did."
Paul: "And after Neely called every play, Silo would say, 'You fumble it, and I'll break your neck.'"
Silo: "I wasn't kidding, either."
Blanchard: "Were you guys aware of the clock?"
Neely: "Yeah, but it didn't matter. We knew we would win."
Mabry has carried the ball twelve times already in the second half, for seventy-eight yards. Here's a quick snap, right side again, not much there. The Spartans are really hammering away at the left side of the East Pike defense. Mabry just follows Durston and Vatrano, and of course Silo Mooney is always around the pileup.
Silo: "I loved Buck Coffey."
Neely: "Didn't you date his youngest daughter?" Silo: "I wouldn't call it dating. Buck damned sure didn't know anything about it."
Second and eight, from the sixteen, Mabry again off the right side, for three, maybe four, and it's a dogfight down there in the trenches, folks.
Silo: "It's always a dogfight, Buck, that's why they call it the trenches."
In the semidarkness, the fraternity had quietly grown larger. Other players had eased over or slid down the bleachers, close enough to hear the play-by-play.
Third and four, Curry wide, full backfield, option right, Crenshaw keeps, is hit, falls forward for maybe two. He really got nailed by Devon Bond.
Neely: "Devon Bond hit me so many times I felt like a punching bag."
Silo: "He was the one player I couldn't do anything with. I'd fire off the ball, have a perfect shot at him, and he'd just vanish. That, or he'd hit me a forearm that would rattle my teeth. He was one bad dude."
Donnie: "Didn't he make a roster?"
Paul: "Steelers, for a couple of years, then some injuries sent him back to East Pike."
A fourth and two that is beyond huge, folks. Spartans must score here, because they have a lot more scoring to do. And the clock is really moving now. Three minutes and forty seconds. Full house, now Chenault in motion left, long count by Crenshaw. And they jump! East Pike jumps offside! First and goal Spartans on the five-yard line! Crenshaw gave it the old head fake and got by with it.
Silo: "Head fake my ass."