Free The Extra Yard by Mike Lupica Page A

the game went into the fourth quarter, the bigger that point looked.
    â€œWe are not losing this game,” Gus said to Teddy on the sideline as their defense tried to get them another stop and get the offense back on the field.
    â€œYou are aware,” Teddy said, “that you said the exact same thing every time we were trailing in a baseball game?”
    â€œYour point being?”
    â€œGot nothing,” Teddy said. “You’re right. My point is that we’re not letting that stupid point on the board stand up for those guys.”
    The Bears were deep into Wildcats territory by then. But on a third-and-three play at the twenty yard line, Max Conte fought off a couple of blocks, caught up with the Bears’ quarterback just as he was getting to the edge, knocked the ball loose with his right hand, and recovered it.
    Three minutes left. Eighty yards to go. No Jack. Right before Teddy ran back onto the field with the rest of the offense, he looked over and noticed that his dad was standing next to Coach Gilbert. And that his dad was doing most of the talking.
    â€œWhat’s he doing down here?” Teddy said.
    â€œHe was a quarterback, right?” Gus said. “Maybe he’s our new quarterback coach.”
    Teddy’s mom had said before the game that this wasn’t about his dad. But maybe his dad thought everything was.
    When they were all in the huddle, Danny said, “We’re gonna pound it with Jake and Brian, and then try to move the ball with short passes.” He looked around at his teammates and said, “Coaches figure even I can accurately throw a ball five yards.”
    Now Teddy spoke. “You throw,” he said. “We’ll catch.”
    Jake ran for eight yards. Brian ran for six. First down. But after the Bears stuffed Jake for no gain, Danny completed his first pass of the second half, a little dump-off throw to Gus in the flat. Gus dusted the linebacker closest to him with a great move and ran for twenty yards before one of the Bears’ safeties knocked him out of bounds. Now the Wildcats were in Bears territory.
    Under two minutes to go.
    Jake, who had been a horse all day, ran straight up the middle for ten more yards. Danny completed another short pass, this one to Mike O’Keeffe. Right at the end of the play Teddy threw a huge block, and Mike gained five extra yards.
    Just like that they were at the Bears’ nineteen yard line.
    Brian ran for five yards, couldn’t get out of bounds.
    Thirty-eight seconds left.
    Coach called time-out. Teddy took another look up into the stands. He saw his mom on her feet with the rest of the Wildcats parents, her hands clasped in front of her, looking nervous and happy and excited all at the same time. It meant she felt pretty much the way he did right now.
    He looked over at his dad now, couldn’t help himself, saw him leaning forward, hands on his knees, looking as fierce as guys like Jim Harbaugh did on the sideline. Like he was coaching the team as much as Coach Gilbert was. Like he was the one calling the plays. Maybe he was.
    Danny had run over to their bench during the time-out and came sprinting back to the huddle now.
    â€œTight end screen to Teddy,” he said.
    It was a play they hadn’t run all day and really didn’t run that often in practice. But one that required almost perfect timing, from Danny, from the blockers, from Teddy, who when the play started was supposed to look like a blocker himself.
    Danny did his job perfectly, looking away from Teddy at first as the rush came up on him, then turning and throwing at the last second while the guys on the right side of the line and Jake had set up a wall of blockers.
    The problem was that it was one of the worst throws of all time.
    Danny, under pressure, had short-armed the ball. Teddy had done it himself his first few games in baseball, when he’d tried to throw out guys trying to steal second on him.
    As the ball