Free Emergency Quarterback by Rich Wallace

1
    Fingertips
    j ason Fiorelli lined up at wingback and scanned the opponents’ defense. He wiped his hands on his muddy jersey as he glanced at the scoreboard: fourth quarter, 1:39. Time was running out. The Hudson City Hornets trailed, 14—7.
    Quarterback Vinnie DiMarco called the signals, and Jason exhaled hard. He wanted the ball. The glare of the lights, the smell of wet grass, the tension in the bleachers and on the field—this was crunch time.
    Shoulder pads collided as the ball was snapped, and Jason held his ground, waiting for the rush of defenders. A linebacker burst through the seam and Jason threw a glancing block that barely slowed him down. But that was the whole idea.
    Jason drifted to his left as another defender scooted into the backfield. Perfect. The field was wide open.
    And here came DiMarco’s screen pass, lofting gently toward Jason above the on-rushing defenders. He felt the almost weightless solidity of the football as it settled into his hands. And with that lightning-quick acceleration that made him such a dangerous receiver, Jason reached full speed in an instant and streaked up the field toward the end zone.
    He had blockers at his side but he didn’t need them, racing along the sideline. His arm muscles were flexed as he cradled the ball against his chest, and his breathing was hard but steady as he put all his might into every stride.
    His cleats gripped the slippery grass and every step got him closer. A frustrated cornerback made a futile dive at the ten-yard line, but Jason was out of reach. Touchdown!
    He raised his fist and resisted the temptation to slam the ball into the ground, tossing it to an official instead and leaping into the arms of teammate Miguel Rivera. “Did it, man!” Jason yelled. “Got that ball and I was gone.”
    He looked up at the bleachers, expecting a wild ovation. But while the Hudson City fans were on their feet, most were staring out at the center of the field, where officials and coaches were huddled around a fallen player.
    “What happened?” Jason asked.
    “DiMarco got nailed,” Miguel said. “You didn’t hear the crunch?”
    “Didn’t hear nothing.”
    “You must’ve been running faster than sound. That hit was intense.”
    Players from both teams were circling around now, and the coaches were motioning for them to stay back. DiMarco had his helmet off and Jason could see that he was conscious, but he was lying flat on the field and his face was set in a grimace.
    Jason stepped over to an assistant coach. “Knee?” he asked.
    “Wrist,” said the coach, slowly shaking his head. “He got clobbered.”
    It took several minutes before Vinnie was helped off the field. He waved to the crowd with his left hand but walked slowly along the running track toward the locker room, accompanied by a small group of adults.
    Coach Podesta called the offense over. “Listen up,” he said with a stern expression. “Vinnie will be all right. We still have a game to win here. Everybody with me?”
    Several players nodded. With all the confusion and delay, Jason had nearly forgotten that they hadn’t even tied the score yet. South Bergen still had a 14—13 lead.
    “We have to go for two points,” Coach said. “We don’t have another kicker that I trust under pressure.”
    The head referee had walked over. “Coach,” he said, “let’s get that team on the field.”
    Coach nodded. “Wade, get the ball to Jason. Let’s go.”
    DiMarco had not only been the quarterback, he was also the Hudson City placekicker. So the Hornets couldn’t go for the tie even if they wanted to. Instead, they’d try for a two-point conversion and a win. Wade Brigham would be at quarterback for the most crucial play of the year. The team’s unbeaten record was in jeopardy.
    Jason grabbed the sleeve of Wade’s jersey and stared up at the quarterback’s pale eyes. “Don’t be a hero,” Jason said sternly, well aware of Wade’s tendency to run with the ball. “I’m