Curse of the Spider King (23 page)

The Chargers players adjusted.

But the kicker did not send it bouncing toward the right at all. Instead, he gave the ball a little pooch kick. It drifted over the head of the closest Charger. In that instant, as the Charger watched the ball go over his head, Jett slammed into him, sending him into an awkward backward roll. But Jett wasn't finished. Another Charger player loped back across the field toward the ball. Jett could never get to the ball in time, but he sprinted toward the opposing player and crashed into him.

Bryce Tomlinson did exactly what Jett had told him to do. When Jett took out the two Chargers' players closest to the ball, Bryce streaked right up the middle and dove on the football. Since the football had traveled ten yards and Bryce recovered it, the ball belonged to the Raiders.

The crowd was delirious. The Chargers coach threw his clipboard to the turf. And Coach Tucker's eyes bulged. “We got the ball,” he said quietly to himself. “I don't believe it. We got the ball!”

The clock still loomed as the enemy. The Raiders had the ball on the Chargers' forty-yard line but only one minute and twelve seconds left to play. Coach Tucker grabbed Kyle Merkel by the shoulder pad. “After this play, Kyle, go no huddle. Watch the clock. Just remember what we've been doing all week in practice. Go get 'em!”

Kyle ran out into the huddle and looked at his teammates. “This is it, guys. No huddle from here on out. X Out, Slide, Y Wing. Go on three. BREAK!”

Jett lined up at running back directly behind Kyle. He knew he wasn't featured on this play. He needed to block so that Kyle would have time to hit the wide receiver deep or the tight end ten yards out near the sideline.

Kyle called out, “Hut, hut, hike!”

The center delivered the ball. Kyle dropped back about three yards and looked for a receiver. Bryce was covered by three defenders on the deep ball.

Kyle looked for the tight end.

No good. They had guys camped out at the sideline, waiting for the quick out.

Kyle started to panic. A Chargers' linebacker broke around the outside and sprinted toward Kyle's backside. Kyle didn't see him coming . . . but Jett did.

He dove backward and slammed the linebacker, knocked him to the turf, and he did not get back up. That hit bought Kyle the extra few seconds he needed to find his second wide receiver streaking across the middle of the field. Kyle threw a dart right into the receiver's chest. He caught it at the twenty-five yard line but was gang tackled there.

The clock was at one minute and counting, and the Raiders were out of timeouts. Kyle ran up to the new line of scrimmage and motioned for the line. Ten more seconds flew off the clock before they were all there and in position. Kyle got the snap and quickly threw the ball into the turf, the only way to stop the clock from running. He looked up at the white lightbulb numbers.

Fifty-three seconds left.

With the clock stopped, the Raiders huddled up. Kyle began to call the next play. “Okay, they are taking the sidelines, so we go with X Scat Fly, YZ posts!”

“Kyle!” Jett yelled. “Give me the ball.”

“We can't run here. They stop us, the clock'll keep running.”

Jett shook his head. “They won't expect it. Line up in shotgun and spread everyone out. Then give me the ball with a draw play.”

“If the linebackers see—”

“I know, Kyle, c'mon,” Jett urged.

Kyle looked at the receivers and the linemen. They shook their heads in enthusiastic agreement. Kyle shrugged. “This doesn't work, Coach'll kill me.”

“It's one of the plays Coach gave you, right?” Jett asked. “Four X Slide, Y Delay Dive—Shotgun draw?”

“Uh, yeah, but we don't have enough ti—”

“C'mon, Kyle, I feel good.”

Kyle shook his head. “I'm glad you do. I feel like I'm going to barf.” Kyle turned to the rest of his team. “Four X Slide, Y Delay Dive, on two. BREAK!”

Kyle lined up behind the center and then took five steps backward. This formation, known as the shotgun, forced the center to hike the ball through the air rather than simply putting it right into the quarterback's hands. Standing that far behind the center and offensive line gave the quarterback a better look at the field, and so it was mostly used when the team wanted to pass the ball. Of course, the Chargers' coach knew this; the Chargers' defense knew it as well . . . and that was what Jett was counting on.

The wide receivers lined up three on the right side, one on the left. The Chargers' defense dropped all their linebackers and cornerbacks into deep-zone coverage. No one was going to go deep on them this time.

Kyle barked out, “Hut!”

His third receiver on the right went in motion, running left behind the offensive line and coming to a stop just behind the other receiver on the left. The defense watched the motion receiver the whole time, expecting him to try a quick cut underneath for an easy catch and run out of bounds to stop the clock.

But as soon as the motion receiver stopped, Kyle grunted, “HUT!!” Kyle held the ball for a second and scanned the field just as he would for a pass play. But suddenly, he turned and slid the ball into Jett's arms.

The Chargers' linemen had been busy trying to get free to sack the quarterback. They didn't even see the blur that was Jett racing up the middle. The linebackers and corners realized what had happened, and they moved into the middle of the field. Jett sidestepped a linebacker. Then he stiff-armed a cornerback, planting his hand on the defender's helmet and pushing him to the turf. The buzz from the crowd surged louder as Jett neared the end zone. He was at the ten when two defenders closed in. Jett spun around one, hurdled another, and kept going. Two yards from the goal line, a speedy safety tripped Jett up, and another defender hit Jett as he fell into the end zone.

Jett heard the whistle. He got up just in time to be mobbed by his teammates. Even Coach Tucker came over. “I told you, Jett! You're an unstoppable force! That's what you are, Son! UNSTOPPABLE!!”

Coach Tucker turned back to the sideline to call for the kicker. They still needed the extra point for the win. But one of the referees kept blowing the whistle and pointing at the field. Jett looked up at the scoreboard. It still showed the Chargers ahead 30–24.

“What?”

The referee finally got Coach Tucker's attention when he yelled, “The ball carrier's knee hit the ground before the ball crossed the goal line! It's first and goal on the one-yard-line.”

“You gotta be kidding me!” Coach Tucker ran up to the referee and argued, but it was no use. The referee made the call. There was no touchdown, and the clock was at twenty-two seconds and still running.

Coach Tucker screamed for his offense to get on the field. As they ran on, he yelled to Kyle, “Bulldog slam!”

Kyle lined up right behind the center and hurried a couple of his offensive linemen. Jett hunched down three feet behind Kyle and waited. The game clock ticked down. 5 . . . 4 . . . 3: “HUT, HUTTT!!”

Kyle handed Jett the ball. Jett felt it in his arms and tucked it in. He looked ahead for a hole, even a tight crack he could plow through.

But there was none.

Suddenly, two of the Chargers' defensive linemen broke through and slammed into Jett. They drove Jett backward two yards, but he did not go down. He just kept churning his legs. The Chargers' player slipped down and held on to Jett's left leg. Two more Chargers blasted in and crunched Jett between them. Still he did not go down.

At that moment, everything seemed to slow down for Jett. He'd scored touchdowns before, many of them. He'd broken tackles before and had even dragged another player across the goal line before. But he'd never felt as strong as he did this day. It was as if each time he thought he'd spent all the energy he had, more strength poured into him. He was carrying three defenders and was still moving forward. As he neared the goal line, more Chargers' players piled on. One, two, three more defenders slammed into the pile and pushed it back a yard. The game clock had run out. If the referee blew the whistle, or if Jett lost his feet and went down, the game would be over . . . and the Chargers would win.

But Jett did not fall down.

He kept his legs moving. He leaned forward and pushed with all his might. And the entire pile, now seven defenders all around Jett, began to move forward again. The crowd exploded with cheers. Everyone stood. Jett's parents screamed, cheering him on.

The pile lunged forward. Carrying some, dragging others, Jett surged ahead . . . across the goal line.

And everything went quiet.

The referees saw Jett score the touchdown, but they didn't signal. They just stared as Jett emerged from the pile. Even Jett's teammates and Coach Tucker were speechless.

The Raider's kicker, Neil Stefanik, was the first to speak. “Coach?”

Coach Tucker didn't answer.

“Coach?”

“What?” Coach Tucker replied as if waking. “What is it, Stefanik?”

“Uh . . . it's tied now, 30–30. You want me to kick the extra point . . . uh, so we can win?”

Coach Tucker's thick brows beetled, and he practically pushed his kicker onto the field. “What are you waiting for, Stefanik? Go win the game!”

Whooping and hollering, hugging and smacking, Jett and the offense loped off the field. They knelt on the sideline and waited breathlessly to see if the kick would be good.

The special teams unit marched toward the end zone and lined up on the five-yard line. The Chargers players lined up. Some of the linebackers and safeties jumped up and down to distract the kicker, but it was halfhearted. After what they'd just witnessed, they'd lost their fight.

The snap and the hold were perfect; the kick went up and sailed right between the uprights.

The fans in the bleachers exploded at last and stormed onto the field. Jett's teammates picked Jett up and carried him on their shoulders even as the crowds of exulting fans surrounded them.

It was some time before Coach Tucker could get his team away from their friends and family. Jett's mother had her son crushed in a bear hug. “Oh, you make me so proud,” she said, giving Jett another squeeze. “My baby . . . my violet-eyed baby. Don't you take too long with 'em, Coach Tucker. We're takin' our baby out for pizza and ice cream.”

“I understand, ma'am,” said the coach, gently prying Jett away.

After the coach's usual postgame speech and the awarding of the game ball—to Jett—Coach Tucker took Jett aside. “That was a herculean effort, Jett.” Coach Tucker shook his head. “I've never seen anything like it. Not even John Riggins or Earl Campbell.”

“Who?” asked Jett.

“Ask your father,” replied the coach with a laugh. He scratched the graying hair at his temples and repeated, “Nope, never seen anything like it. Now, go on home and rest up. We've got the championships next weekend. And I expect you'll run the ball quite a bit.”

“Yes, sir!” Jett smiled from ear to ear, even as Coach Tucker turned and went back into his office.

Jett left the locker room and walked out into the tunnel. He turned left to head for the parking lot. As he walked down that shadowy concrete tube, he mused on the incredible game he'd just experienced. Nothing had ever felt as good. Maybe it was the adrenaline, but rather than being exhausted from a demanding game, he still felt energized.
I feel like I could
play another game right now
, he thought. He looked back over his shoulder toward the field end of the tunnel. And then the agile star running back for the Greenville Raiders almost tripped over his own feet.

There was someone standing at the other end of the tunnel. He was tall and narrow and wore a coat that reached down to just above his ankles. But with the light behind him, he was just a silhouette.
A
strange silhouette
, Jett thought. And though Jett couldn't determine just what it was, something about the man didn't look quite right. He wore a hat, too. “It's the guy from the stands,” Jett muttered. “But what's he doing?”

Jett had a sudden urge to run to the parking lot, but instead he turned his back and continued walking. Slowly at first. And he listened intently, hoping he wouldn't hear the sound of distant footsteps mixing in with the scrape of his own cleats on the tunnel floor.

Jett sped up a little.

He turned and looked back just in time to see the man disappear from the mouth of the tunnel. Jett sped up a bit more.

By the time he approached fading daylight at the other end of the tunnel, Jett was moving a little faster than a jog. He took one last look over his shoulder and ran out of the tunnel . . . straight into a man in a long gray jacket.

The man caught Jett by the shoulder pads and absorbed Jett's impact with his own strength. “Whoa, Jett!” said the man. “You trying to score another touchdown?”

Jett looked up. “Mr. Spero? What are you doing here?”