Free QB 1 by Mike Lupica

QB.”
    Jake nodded and ran out on the field as the quarterback of the Granger Cowboys, if only for these few mop-up minutes at the end of a blowout game. But somehow the day had brought him here, like some crazy ride on a horse one of their wranglers was trying to break.
    And Jake couldn’t help it as he ran out there: He gave a quick look over his shoulder, like he was giving one last look to the sideline for instructions. But really looking past his coaches and teammates to where he knew his mom was, knowing the seat next to her, the one that always belonged to his dad, was empty this afternoon.
    He found her easily enough. Everybody around her was sitting down, no reason to stand and cheer for the Cowboys right now. His mom, though, she was standing, staring right at him, nodding her head. Like she was telling him, from up there in the stands, that he could do this.
    Now Jake was glad she had come, glad she was here to see this, not knowing how long this would last, not knowing if he’d be out here again anytime soon.
    Glad that she was here, but wishing in that moment that his dad was with her.

    Act like you belong.
    If there was one thing his dad had drummed into his two boys’ heads from the time they’d understood the things he was saying to them about life and football—and ranching and horses and bulls and just about everything else under the sun—it was
Act like you belong.
Like it was the Eleventh Commandment.
    Even if you weren’t sure you belonged somewhere, act like you did.
    He got into the huddle, everybody looking at him, Jake trying not to look scared. He told his teammates the three plays he’d brought with him from Coach J, clapped his hands, and told them all the snap count. Wanting to get on with it. Grabbed Nate on the way to the line and said, “Don’t let me drop the snap.”
    â€œBetter chance of me droppin’ my pants in front of everybody,” Nate said.
    Jake managed to handle Nate’s snap cleanly, but then nearly made a mess of the handoff to Spence, rushing it, wanting to get on with that, too, putting too much air between them. Spence saved him, though, collected the ball, gained four, running right behind Nate Collins’s big ol’ butt.
    They lined up quickly. Jake straightened up, saw Roy Gilley open on a slant route, but threw the ball behind him, incomplete. Third-and-six. Calvin and Justice were switching sides. As Calvin ran past Jake he said, “Get me the rock, I’ll do the rest.”
    They went to a quick count this time, Jake took a one-step drop, ready to gun it over to Calvin in the left flat. Keep it simple. But the same cornerback who’d been giving Casey fits all day, who’d been reading him like he’d been in the huddle with Casey and the rest of the Cowboys, was just sitting there, ready to step in on Calvin the way he’d been doing all game long.
    Jake managed to pull the ball down at the last second, making it look like the showiest pump fake anybody’d ever seen at Cullen Field. Then he just took off, the way those hotshot young quarterbacks in the pros did all the time now. Colin Kaepernick. Russell Wilson. RG III. Took off the way Johnny Football Manziel did on his way to winning the Heisman trophy as a freshman over at Texas A&M, ran down the sideline to the thirty-yard line. Even tightroped the last few yards the way Johnny Football did sometimes. Finally got bounced out of bounds.
    First down.
    Yee boy,
Jake thought. He was in the game. Not with any chance to win it. Just trying to show he belonged. David Stevens, their other halfback, came running in to replace Spence, told Jake the next three plays, the first a curl route to Roy Gilley.
    But Jake overthrew Roy, the ball nearly sailing all the way into the arms of a safety. He then missed Calvin on second down, the ball too low, Calvin giving Jake a look on his way back to the huddle.
    Third-and-ten.
    This one was a crossing