Page 132 of The Backup Plan
She dug in her bag for a bright green lanyard and looped it around Avery’s neck. “You’re my sideline buddy today. If anyone asks, I absolutely did not steal those credentials, and your name is Shelby Wentz.”
THIRTY-NINE
We Rise
CAMERON: WEEK 9
Spotting Avery on the sideline carrying one of Pippa’s bags like a shield, Cameron wished for only a second that she was an anonymous blur in the student section like she always was, and not close enough to catch his eye. A team hat, again courtesy of Pippa, covered her pale blonde hair.
He turned his back and locked in.
Tennessee went on the scoreboard first with a field goal. UND matched it. Ethan threw a touchdown. Cam tossed a shovel pass to a running back for a short rush and UND brought the game back to a tie. They chased the opponent the entire first half, never down for more than one score, but never snagging a lead.
“That’s the heat!” Cam shouted in the locker room at halftime, tied at twenty points each. “I’m getting a goddamn sunburn in November! Matching isn’t good enough when they start the half, so we’re going to hit them in all three phases and take that lead! Y’all know how we’re going to do it?”
He smiled and pointed at Mario Madison, his cornerback who still looked deflated from a costly pass interference penalty. “We’re going to do it together. Lights out on those bastards, defense. I believe in every one of you to make those stops, and get that turnover. I believe in every man on this offense to take the lead. And special teams, I know you will to pin them at the end of the field on every damn kick, because we are going to do this together! All three phases, we rise when they bring the heat!”
Bold words.
In the middle of the fourth quarter, tied at twenty-seven, the defense recovered a fumble during a sack. Isaac was tackled with the ball almost as soon as he grabbed it, but the defense gave Cameron the turnover he demanded, and now he had to capitalize on it.
Five more yards, he prayed, checking their field position over and over to make sure he could still count. The home crowd was deafening, and a smudge on the right side of his glasses was just enough to worry him. We need five yards to field goal range for a lead. Five yards.
He drew in a deep breath as he stepped into the huddle, and exhaled the noise, the yard lines, and everything else but the play call. At second and ten, and with two of his best receivers sidelined by injury, a touchdown wouldn’t be easy. The field goal, if they could get into range, might be enough.
His offensive line had protected him like a wall the entire game. He had time for passes, if a receiver could get enough separation to catch one.
Cam felt Ethan’s eyes on him as he lined up in shotgun formation, and before the count, he exhaled that, too.
He dropped back with the ball in his hands. No one was open. He looked to Benny for a screen pass and found him holding a block for a receiver in double coverage.
He ran.
He blew past the line of scrimmage and his five yards for field goal range, aiming for ten yards to pick up the first down. Spotting the linebacker closing in on his right, he leaned to avoid him and threw out a stiff arm to protect the ball cradled against his left side. The linebacker lowered his head and jammed his face mask against Cam’s hand. When his fingers closed as a reaction to steady himself before sliding, his heart stopped before the yellow flags hit the ground.
A player may not grasp, twist, or pull another player’s face mask.
A fifteen-yard penalty.
Cam hadn’t drawn a penalty for weeks. Driving for the comeback when he demanded the best of everyone on his team, he dragged them all back—literally. Five yards was now twenty. If they couldn’t make it at least twenty yards on the next play, Tennessee would have the ball and could beat them with one kick.
Coach Keyes didn’t look at the receivers when they paused for the two-minute warning, only his quarterback and tight end. “I want that play you two drew up,” he said as Cam took off his helmet and wiped his glasses. “Get Benny the hell out of the trenches and open on the right. Cam, you’ve got to set up the protection better. Talk to Zack out there. Nine out of ten, they blitz you on this because they think we’ve got no one to throw to. Go.”
A shiver chased up Cam’s back, and he slapped his neck like a bee stung him. “We’ve got this!” he yelled, smacking helmets as the team jogged back to the field. “We’ve got this!”
RISE!
The team’s response to the play call in the huddle sucked the sound from the stadium. Tennessee’s defense spread into what looked like zone coverage. He didn’t like it, and was just about to call a shift when they tightened their formation for a blitz.
He signaled his running back into motion for a fake handoff, looking left. His tight end, at his right, stared down the linebacker who thought he was facing a blocker, not a receiver. Benny had spent the entire season trimming bulk and gaining speed, and not many people outside their training facility had seen him shoring up his skills as a dual threat route-runner.
The snap.
The dropback.
The offensive line held. Cam let the ball fly as Benny hit the route, sprinting first for the sideline, then back to the middle of the field as a receiver drew coverage on the left for a slower version of the same route—the distraction that would hopefully open the route to the end zone.
Time slowed as he watched the ball arc over everyone but Benny, wide open on the ten yard line for an over-the-shoulder catch on the run. Cam raised his fist and opened his mouth to scream for the touchdown as a defender hit him from his blind side and knocked him backward onto the grass.