and we recover it, thank God.
Hart and I stand, and I slap his ass. “All right rookie, now’s your chance to get the job done.”
Unfortunately, the offense can’t make anything happen. There aren’t any more interceptions, but it’s three and out for the Thunder on every possession in the second quarter. There’s a reason Seattle’s defense is ranked number one in the league. By the time the buzzer sounds for halftime, our defense and punter are worn the hell out, and we’re down by twenty-five points.
Halftime is painful. The guys are bitching and groaning, Coach is yelling, and everything in me screams Put me in, but I don’t say it. McKay’s earned this position. He can turn it around if he can get out of his head, and me pressing to go in won’t help with that. Plus, the team’s used to playing with him. An offense is like a carefully coordinated dance, and throwing someone different into the mix, even though I’m not new, could still screw things to hell.
“All right, we’re the motherfucking Thunder and we’re still in this fucking thing,” Coach says, and the locker room erupts into cheers. “Now go out there and take this bitch back.”
No one will ever give Coach a Sunday school award. I grab my helmet and head for the door, chuckling.
“Cash.”
I turn to look at the man who’s been not only a coach but a friend. “Yes?”
“How’s the shoulder?”
“Good.”
“I’m going to give the kid a series or two, but if he can’t pull it together, you’re in.”
I wait for the lightning strike that will erase all the uncertainty and insecurity of the last few months, but it doesn’t come. I’m happy, I want to play, but those words haven’t changed my life like I thought they would. “Whatever you think’s best, Coach.”
He nods, and we head out to the field where our kickoff team is lining up. It’s a battle, but our defense holds their offense and forces a punt.
It’s our turn to make something happen, but McKay fumbles on the second down. I see him jog to the sideline toward Coach. There’s a discussion, then my name is called. “King, get your arm warm.”
I glance up at Duke, who nods, but I can see the concern on his face. He doesn’t need to worry. I know my shoulder is going to hold. I also know that I can handle the pain. He’s done his job by getting me back, and now I’m going to do mine.
This time, when the offense takes the field, I’m leading them. The crowd goes crazy and begins to slide one palm over the other in a make it rain motion. “Cash Always Pays,” a song a local rapper wrote about me, blasts through the speakers.
I take a moment to soak it in. I love our fans—they’ve been incredibly good to me. But I find my gaze going to my cheering section of ten, and there’s that lightning strike I’ve been waiting for, especially when I see the blonde beauty who owns my heart standing next to Elva.
Tiger.
I look to McKay, who’s now wearing the headset, and he gives me the signal. Well, hell, I guess they want to test my shoulder because it’s a passing play. We huddle up, and I look at all the men with me. “All right, what do you say we take this game back?”
“Hell, yeah,” Guthrie says.
We line up, and I glance to my right, then to my left. I point at Seattle’s linebacker, who’s moving in like he’s going to rush me. “FIFTY-FIVE MIKE. FIFTY-FIVE MIKE.” I pick up my right leg and put it down, signaling Jamail, my wide receiver, into motion. He runs from the right end of the offense line to the left. “WHITE TWENTY-ONE, WHITE TWENTY-ONE, SET HUT.” Then Guthrie snaps the ball.
It’s an explosion of helmets crashing into one another, shoulder pads meeting shoulder pads, and the grunts and curses of grown men sacrificing their bodies for the game they love. And the instant the rough exterior of the ball touches my hands, something clicks in my head, and my muscle memory takes over.
I drop back three steps, letting my offensive line protect me, while I look for my receivers. A streak of white and red shoots down the field. I take a deep breath, step into the pass, and release the ball. Pain slices through my shoulder. Adrenaline makes the ache bearable for now, but I’ll feel it tomorrow. The ball spirals through