Two-Minute Drill - Mike Lupica [34]
“Suit up. We’re gonna finish what we started.”
“Yeah, with me watching and you playing.”
“No,” Chris said. “As teammates.”
He brushed past Scott and headed up the stairs. “I’m not leaving until you suit up.”
“Are you gonna be this stubborn about passing that test on Monday?” Scott said.
“More,” he said. “Now come on, or you’re gonna make me late.”
“I give up,” Scott said, and followed him.
He and Chris were coming down the stairs, Chris in his number four—for Brett Favre—and Scott in his number twenty-two for Doug Flutie, when Scott’s mom and dad came back from their walk.
His dad just gave him one of those smiles, the kind where he didn’t have to say anything because the smile said everything.
“I figured I’m gonna get rained on anyway,” Scott said. “I might as well do it wearing this.”
“Sounds like a plan,” his dad said.
It had started raining earlier that morning, not a big storm, just a steady downpour. Even if it stopped right now, the game was going to be played on a muddy field.
Scott’s dad said, “Your mom, Casey and I will see you over there.”
Sure enough, the field was a mess by the time the game started.
Yet the first half of the championship game was an even bigger mess.
By then it was no longer just a nice, steady rain, it was a total downpour, but because the coaches had agreed to start the game, they were determined to finish it, no matter how miserable the conditions had become.
Chris fumbled the ball away twice in the first quarter, both times deep in Eagles’ territory, but both times the Eagles’ defense held, and the game remained scoreless. It looked as if that might change when the Lions’ quarterback fumbled on his own twenty-yard line with less than a minute left in the half. Except then Jeremy fumbled right back.
The game was still scoreless at halftime.
For the first time all season, Mr. Dolan took them inside at the break. It wasn’t so they could get a chance to get dry. That, they all knew, wasn’t happening until they got home. But at least it was fifteen minutes out of the rain.
“You guys are playing your hearts out, and I’m proud of you,” Coach said. “I know the conditions are lousy, but they’re lousy for the other guys, too.” He took off his red cap with the O on the front now, shook it hard to get some of the rain off it.
Then he knelt down in the front of the room where they all could see him.
“This is one you win,” he said. “This is one you win and then no matter what you do in football after this, you’ll remember this day, and talk about it for the rest of your lives.”
Chris stood up then. He wasn’t much of a talker, and had never given a speech to the team, but he said something now.
“Let’s win the Mud Bowl!” he yelled.
Suddenly all of the Eagles were chanting “Mud, mud, mud.” Scott was yelling right along with everybody else, knowing they sounded as if they had water on the brain by now.
He and Chris were the last two out of the room as they filed out. “Glad you came?” Chris said.
Scott grinned. “Let’s go win the championship,” he said.
It didn’t get any easier in the second half. Both teams kept turning the ball over. Nobody came close to putting it in the end zone.
Then, near the end of the third quarter, disaster struck for the Eagles.
Dave Kepp was back to punt from his own five-yard line. Only the snap went sailing over his head like it had been shot out of a cannon and landed in the Eagles’ end zone. There was a wild scramble for the ball, and for a moment Scott was worried that somebody on the Lions was going to recover it for a touchdown.
At the last second, though, Dave was smart enough to shove the ball out of the back of the end zone for a safety. No touchdown, but now the Lions had a 2-0 lead. And in these conditions, those two points felt like more.
A lot more.
Maybe the whole game.
Because of the safety, the Eagles had to kick the ball back to the Lions, who weren’t taking any chances now that they had the lead. They just ran the ball up the middle three straight times from midfield and