Free Last Man Out by Mike Lupica

this was a habit he might never break, he looked up to the corner of the bleachers where his father had always been, home or away.
    It was empty.
    That wiped the smile off Tommy’s face. In that moment, though, he surprised himself. He didn’t feel sad. Just really mad all of a sudden. Like he wanted to take out everything that had happened to him in the last week on the Watertown Titans. He could feel his heart beating inside his chest, could feel himself taking great, big, deep breaths as he walked over and took his position to Greck’s right, his fists clenched.
    Greck must have been watching him, because he turned and said, “You okay?”
    Tommy threw one of Greck’s favorite words back at him: “Gorgeous.”
    It was third and nine for the Titans. If the Bears could get a stop here, they’d get the ball back with enough time to try to tie or win the game. When they broke their huddle, Kevin was in the shotgun. Coach went through his hand signals like a third-base coach in baseball, finally putting out one finger as he dragged his hand across his shirt. It meant he was signaling a straight blitz,from all three of his linebackers, telling them to just pick a lane and go, ready to force the action one more time.
    With the game on the line, Tommy, a monster back, wanted more than anything to make a
monster
play.
    Tommy knew he had Kevin’s cadences down cold by now. Sometimes you didn’t just read with your eyes. You read with your ears, too.
    But Tommy didn’t trust himself to try to jump the count, afraid of getting an offsides penalty. He came hard when the ball was snapped, but he’d lost something by not jumping the count. Still, he blew right past the Titans’ left tackle, the blind-side tackle, giving him a head fake like he might go outside, but went inside instead. As Kevin stepped into his throw, Tommy was raising his own arms at the same time, trying to get a piece of the ball.
    But he whiffed on it, and Kevin got the pass off just in time. Tommy was a step late, because he’d hesitated just enough right before the snap.
    The pass sailed through the air, intended for the Titans’ tight end . . . and landed out of bounds.
    Before Tommy could stop himself, though, his momentum took his body forward, and he landed on Kevin as Kevin finished his follow-through. Tommy tried to wrap Kevin up and keep him from falling. It wasn’t even that hard a hit—Tommy had put enough good licks on quarterbacks since he’d started playing football to know the difference. But Kevin fell backward and out of Tommy’s grasp, trying to make sure the ref thoughtit was a late hit. The contact seemed so much worse than it had actually been.
    And Kevin got exactly what he wanted.
    Whistle, flag.
    Tommy would have been better off jumping offsides.
    Another fifteen yards, another Titans’ first down on what should’ve been the end of a drive, because of a Bears penalty.
    No, check that. Not a Bears penalty. A Tommy Gallagher penalty.
    Tommy didn’t help Kevin to his feet, because he was watching the ref walk off the penalty, like the ref had broken into the clear with the ball, and there was nothing Tommy could do to stop him.
    Tommy heard Kevin say, “Tough break.”
    Tommy turned to him and said, “Tough acting job.”
    â€œWhat’s that mean?”
    â€œFigure it out.”
    â€œAre you accusing me of flopping?” Kevin said.
    â€œNo need to accuse you of something I saw with my own eyes.”
    â€œRight,” Kevin said. “Guess I must’ve hit myself late.”
    Without another word he headed back to his huddle and Tommy walked slowly back to his. He should’ve been walking back to the Bears’ sideline watching the Titans’ punt team come on the field. But the Bears’ defense stayed on the field and that was squarely on Tommy’s shoulders.
    The Titans kept the drive going, getting