Overtime

Someone slapped his helmet. Bryce sat beside him, breathing hard.

“You ready?” Bryce asked.

Mark turned to him. “For what?”

Bryce leaned in, eyes flicking toward the coaches. “Trick play. I’ve been getting smashed out there. We need to switch it up.”

“Coach won’t go for that.”

Bryce smiled “he won’t say shit if it works.”

“And if it doesn’t?” Mark asked.

“You let me worry about that. Be ready Rodgers.”

Overtime started. Westminster won the toss and their offense took the field first. Their defense managed to hold, giving them the chance to win if they scored during this possession. The play came in from the sideline—run left, safe and simple. Bryce ignored it.

In the huddle, Bryce looked right at Mark. “We run ‘Wildcat Echo.’ I’ll take the snap and lateral it to you. Toss right like a sweep, then hit Thomas deep.”

Mark blinked. “You serious?”

“Dead.”

The others looked unsure. Thomas nodded. “I’ll get open.”

Mark stepped up behind center, heart punching against his ribs. The snap came clean and Bryce tossed the ball back to Mark. Mark took it, ran right, selling the sweep. The corner bit. Thomas cut upfield.

Mark stopped, turned his shoulders, and launched it.

The ball hung in the air forever. The corner tried to recover but was too slow. Thomas pulled it in at the ten, broke a weak tackle, and jogged into the end zone untouched.

Silence from the crowd. Then whistles. Then booing.

Mark just stood there, staring.

Bryce sprinted over, lifted him off the ground, yelling something Mark couldn’t hear. The rest of the team piled on.

They’d won.

Somehow, they’d actually won.