Two-Minute Drill - Mike Lupica [35]
On first down, trying to make something happen despite lousy field position that matched the weather, Chris went back to throw one to Jimmy in the right flat. Only the ball slipped out of his hand and somehow ended up behind Chris, falling right into the arms of a Lions’ defensive tackle, who seemed as shocked as anybody to have the ball in his hands, then started slip-sliding toward the end zone until Chris managed to bring him down from behind.
Lions’ ball, on the Eagles’ eight-yard line.
But Scott watched as his guys on defense finally caught a break. The Lions’ quarterback fumbled the snap on first down and the Eagles got it back just as the third quarter ended. One last quarter to go in the season.
Lions 2. Eagles 0. A baseball score for the biggest football game of the year, the biggest game any of those kids had ever played.
The rain was coming as hard as ever.
Somehow, though, with three minutes left, Chris Conlan—maybe because he was Chris Conlan—began to drive the Eagles down the field.
You couldn’t see the numbers on the uniforms by then. You wondered how Chris could see anything with the rain hitting him in the face. Didn’t seem to matter to him. He completed his first pass of the day, to Jimmy, and Jimmy nearly dropped it before hugging it to his chest with both hands and running twenty more yards, almost in slow motion to avoid slipping in the mud. The Lions’ defenders could hardly plant their feet in the mud to make the tackle.
That gave Chris an idea. He called for the reverse that he’d run with Scott at practice, and Jeremy Sharp gained another fifteen yards.
The Eagles were at midfield now. The element of surprise seemed to be working. On the sloppy field, it was more difficult to react than act. So Chris kept the surprises coming by calling a quarterback sneak and running all the way to the Lions’ fifteen-yard line.
One minute to go. The Eagles’ first real drive of the game.
Chris called their first time-out, went over to talk to Mr. Dolan.
“No turnovers,” he said. “This is for the game.”
“Got it,” Chris said.
Scott had come over to listen.
“Let’s see if we can run it in,” Mr. Dolan said. “We’ve seen already that bad things are happening today when the ball’s in the air.”
Chris nodded. Scott handed him a bottle of Gatorade. Chris tipped his helmet back to take a swig, and it was then that Scott saw that he was smiling. Like there was nowhere else in the world he’d rather be.
He tossed the bottle to Scott. Still smiling, he said, “Love of the game, dude.”
Then the quarterback ran back on the field.
The next play was a sweep. Jeremy ran for three yards. When the play started, it looked like he might get more, but Jeremy fell down without being touched, body-surfing for about five yards after he hit the ground.
Second-and-seven.
They lined up without a huddle to save time. Chris faked a pitch to Jeremy, handed the ball to Grant. But the Lions weren’t fooled this time, and Grant got stuffed for no gain.
Third down now, from the twelve-yard line.
Fifteen seconds left.
Chris called another time-out to stop the clock. It was third-and-long. Pass coming. Chris took the snap, rolled to his right. As he did, Scott looked down the field and saw that Jimmy had gotten himself wide open in the back of the end zone, his man having slipped.
It looked like a sure touchdown to win the game.
Except.
Except as Chris’s arm came forward, his back foot slipped out from under him and he went down, the ball squirting out of his hand, dying like somebody had shot it out of the air. It fell harmlessly to the ground.
Fourth down from the twelve.
Eight seconds left.
Time for one more play.
Only Chris Conlan was limping now, limping badly, grabbing for his hamstring, in obvious pain. Even with the clock stopped because of the incompletion, he called their last time-out and hobbled toward the sideline.
Mr. Dolan ran out to meet him.
By the time