She was too busy thinking about the game.
The score was tied. There were three minutes to go in the fourth quarter, second down and eight with Weston on their own thirty-five yard line. For the twentieth time that night Holly jumped to her feet in outrage. “Did you see that?” she said to David and Angela Washington, waving her hand toward the field. “How could the ref miss that call? Pass interference! That should be a fifteen-yard penalty and an automatic first down.”
“Not only that,” Angela said, and if looks could kill there was one referee who would have been good and dead. “They roughed the passer, too. Charlie’s still down.”
It was true. A sudden hush fell over the crowd, home fans and visitors alike, as Weston’s trainer trotted out onto the field to look at the Wildcats’ starting quarterback, Charlie Mazillo, who was lying on his side clutching his left leg.
“Oh, no,” David Washington said. “I think it’s his knee.”
Whatever it was, it had obviously ended the game for Charlie. He had to be helped off the field, leaning on his coach and his trainer, to a round of obligatory applause from the stands.
“Those bullies,” Holly said furiously. “I can’t believe they’ve been getting away with this kind of crap all night. My God, these are high school kids.”
Angela shook her head. “Yes, but this is Ohio, and we play our football for blood.”
“Alex doesn’t,” Holly said, her voice positive. “He plays to win, but he doesn’t play dirty.”
David sighed. “Alex is rare. He’s a coach who plays the game the right way and can still maintain a winning record. Most of them can’t manage that.”
“And to think I was starting to like this game. Maybe I had the right idea all along.”
“Hey,” Angela said suddenly, looking down at the sidelines. “Coach is sending Will out there.”
Holly gripped the other woman’s hand in sudden panic. Her baby boy, going out on that field to face that gang of thugs?
Angela patted her on the back. “Don’t worry. Will’s tough, and he’s smart. He can handle it.”
“What do you mean he can handle it? He’s fifteen years old. Charlie’s a senior and he couldn’t handle it.”
“The referees will call a cleaner game after this. They’ll have to.”
“Oh, sure they will,” Holly muttered, watching Will trot out to the huddle. Even from up here she could tell he was panicking, too. This wasn’t a series or two in a game they already had sewn up. This was three minutes to go in a tie game, a game they’d only kept tied by the incredible play of their starting quarterback, who’d just been injured by a vicious hit from the Steeltown defense.
Will wasn’t ready for this. Holly could read the uncertainty in his posture. It wasn’t fair, she thought wildly. It was too much pressure to put on a fifteen-year-old boy.
Then he handed the ball off to Tom, who ran for twelve yards and a first down, and while David and Angela cheered for their son Holly breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe it would be okay. She no longer even cared about winning the game. She just wanted Will to get through this without getting hurt, and without making any huge mistakes that would torture him for the rest of—
She groaned and closed her eyes briefly. Will had just gotten sacked, and although he scrambled to his feet right away, obviously unhurt, she could tell he was rattled. The very next play he was called for intentional grounding, and in a flash of insight she knew he was afraid to pass the ball, afraid to touch the ball, afraid to have the game resting on his shoulders.
Alex called a time-out and Holly wondered what he would say. Will was probably hoping his coach would call another rushing play, and another and another, but then Tom would be the focus of the punishment the Steelers were handing out, and, anyway it wouldn’t work. You had to balance your running attack with your passing attack if you wanted to have success—and that meant you needed a quarterback who believed in himself.
Alex was talking to Will by the sideline. Holly took a deep breath and let it out. She felt calmer suddenly, seeing them together. Alex would say the right things. Will trusted him. Will nodded at whatever his coach was saying, and Alex slapped him on the back. Then all the players came together for the team grip.
“Go Wildcats!” they said with one voice, and then they were running back out on the field.
The opposing teams lined up to face each other. The crowd noise made it impossible to hear but she could see Will behind center, looking right and left as he called the play, crisp confidence in his bearing as he took the snap and backpedaled in the pocket.