“There's still plenty of time,” Joe Tyler said. “But let's speed things up, anyway.”
They did. Pass to Will in the flat, pass to Hannah on the sideline, a screen for Toby that Will's dad had drawn up at halftime and went for twenty yards. On the last play of the third quarter, Will seemed to have gotten stopped on the goal line, told himself to keep his legs moving, fell into the end zone.
It was 19â14 now at Shea, one quarter to go, in a game they couldn't afford to lose.
Because the Bulldogs only had twelve players, Will noticed that the refs would give them a longer break every chance they got, on changes of possession or the ends of quarters. By now, Joe Tyler knew to expect it, so he had the players come to the sideline again, get some water or Gatorade.
As they did, he went up to every one of them, either slapping them on the pads or helmet, stopping to hug Tim, and then Will.
“We're doing this,” Will's dad said.
Will nodded.
But right then, as if on cue, they heard Dick Keenan. Will noticed that the longer the game went on, the more the yelling was directed at all of them, Will's dad included, and not just Toby.
“While you're hugging it out with them, maybe you could tell them to tackle somebody.”
Joe Tyler turned toward the bleachers now and said, “That's it.”
Turned back toward the field, waved the ref over, asked if he could call a time-out even if they were basically in a long time-out already.
“What's up, Joe?” the ref said.
Will's dad said, “I need a minute to shut somebody up.”
The ref said, “The guy at the top of the bleachers with the leather lungs?”
“Him.”
“Be my guest.” With that he blew his whistle, extended his arms in the direction of both benches, said, “Official time-out.”
As soon as he did, Joe Tyler walked over to the bleachers behind the Bulldogs' bench, yelled up to Dick Keenan, “Hey, Dick, come down here; there's something I need to tell you.”
In that moment, it was as if all sound completely disappeared from Shea Field.
Will watched Toby's dad, arms crossed in front of him, face clenched like always, staring down at Joe Tyler.
“Just coach your team,” he said.
“Trying,” Joe Tyler said. “But you won't let me.”
“Free country.”
Will stood and watched it all, heart pounding. He wondered what the Becker Falls kids, their coach, thought was happening over here. Not knowing that this was the real action now at Shea, before the fourth quarter even started.
“Oh, I know it's a free country,” Joe Tyler said. “And that means free speech, too. Just come down here for a second. I'm not like you.” Will could see his dad grinning. “I don't want everybody to hear.”
It was as if he'd challenged him, in this easygoing way. And left Toby's dad no choice. He walked down through the bleachers now, the other parents giving him plenty of room, staring at Joe Tyler the whole time, looking the way he always did, like he spent his whole life being mad at the world.
Then the only thing separating Will's dad and Toby's dad was the fence.
This is it,
Will thought.
This is what we've been waiting for, somebody to tell this guy off.
Will stole a look at Toby, who'd taken his helmet off, was just watching the scene play out the way everybody else was.
How long had Toby been waiting for somebody to tell off his dad?
Dick Keenan spoke first.
Of course.
“There's a game going on,” he said. “Not that the guys on your defense seem to have noticed.”
Now,
Will thought.
Now.
“You noticed, huh?” Joe Tyler said, surprising Will, still keeping his cool.
“Your kids, starting with
my
kid, couldn't stop a nosebleed today,” Dick Keenan said.
“You're right.”
He still had his arms crossed in front of him, still looked as if he would come right over the fence if Will's dad said the wrong thing.
But now he looked confused, as if Will's dad were trying to trick him somehow.
“I'm . . . right?”
“It's why I called you down,” Joe Tyler said. “I said I wanted to tell you something. But the truth is, I wanted to
ask
you something.”
“Well, hurry up, before they flag you for delay of game.”
“You still think you know everything about defense, right?”
“More than you, that's for sure.”
“Then here's my question: why don't you come over here and help me try to win this game?”
And to everybody's amazement, starting with Toby, that is exactly what Dick Keenan did.
CHAPTER 27
As
soon as Toby had brought down the Becker Falls kick returner at the thirty-yard line, Joe Tyler signaled to the ref for a real time-out, waved the Bulldogs over to the sideline all over again.
And once they were in the huddle around Dick Keenan, they found out that when you could get him to stop acting like a blowhardâor a bullyâeven for a couple of minutes, he actually knew what he was talking about.
It was almost like he'd been waiting for somebody to give him the chance to prove it.
It wasn't like he turned into a good guy all of a sudden, or got better at talking to guys their age, or even acted like a good dad. But he knew his football; you could hear that right away. Especially defensive football.
When he started talking too loudly, Joe Tyler said in a much calmer voice, “Dick, we can hear you fine.” He nodded at the Panthers. “We just don't want them to hear, too.”
Will saw something pass across Dick Keenan's face for a second, a look that he was sure Toby knew like his own name, but then it was gone.
He said to the Bulldogs: “Listen up, we got about a minute to put in a defense. We used to call it the â50' when Joe and me played. This won't be that. But we're gonna put five in the box, put four backers behind 'em. Leaving us with two cover corners, no safety.”
He pointed at Johnny and Hannah, the two corners. “You get up on their receivers, because there's no chance that kid can throw deep with that wet noodle arm of his. And give run support whenever you can. Got it?”
They all nodded.
Dick Keenan said to Toby, “You spy on the quarterback. The two linebackers on the outside”âhe pointed at Tim and Gerry Dennisâ“you do
not
let the stinkin' ball get to the outside one more time today. You git it?”
Tim and Gerry nodded, like they were afraid not to.
They all heard the whistle now. Will turned and saw the ref walking slowly toward them, like a baseball umpire ready to break up a conference on the mound.
“You follow the ball,” Dick Keenan said, “not where you think it might end up.” He was kneeling. Now he looked up at them. “Any questions?” Nobody said anything. “This ain't rocket science. It's about who wants it more. If you do, now would be a good time to show it.”
Joe Tyler had told Will that Dick Keenan was always the quarterback of the Forbes High defense when they were teammates. Now that became Toby's job. Somehow he was playing even harder now than before, which was saying plenty. Like there was a chance for him to do something more than beat Becker Falls today.
Dick Keenan's defense started working right away. On first down, the Panthers' quarterback faked the pitch to the tailback, but Toby didn't bite, planted the quarterback instead for a three-yard loss. On second down the tailback got the ball, looking like he could get to the edge the way he had all day. But Tim beat him to his spot, forced him to the inside. Toby was waiting for him. The kid was lucky to hold on to the ball.
No gain.
The quarterback did try to throw on third-and-long, rolling to his right, but Jeremiah Keating read the play perfectly, dropped back on the tight end, knocked the ball down.
Three and out. The Panthers brought in their punter. Will and Tim dropped back, Tim just there to block. Will looked over at their sideline. Dick Keenan still had his arms crossed in front of him. But something about his face had changed now. He didn't look happy. Will wondered if anything made this guy happy. But there was definitely something different.
Will thought:
He's like my dad.
He's back on the field finally and he likes it.
Will got off a good return, taking the ball back to midfield. Chris faked it to Will on first down, straightened up, hit Toby for six yards. But then Will got caught in the backfield for a five-yard loss, only got eight on third down.
They had to punt now, Will worrying as they did that they might have handed momentum right back to the Panthers. Only they hadn't. Because they weren't beating the Bulldogs with the option anymore, couldn't solve the new defensive formation, mostly couldn't get through or around Toby Keenan, who played like he was on some kind of mission now. He made all three tackles on the Panthers' next series, forced them to punt again.
Still 19â14. Four minutes left now. Bulldogs' ball on their forty.
Right before Chris called the first-down play in the huddle, a 38 Toss to Will, Tim put his hands on Will's shoulders and said, “Thrill? You think you could win this sucker for me?”
“We all can,” Will said.
And then gained twenty yards on 38 Toss. From their forty to the Becker Falls forty, just like that. Chris handed it to Will now on a counter-play. He gained eight more yards. Then four more on a direct-snap Wildcat play his dad had installed for today's game. Another first down. Ball moving, chains moving. The Panthers had called two of their time-outs already. They had one left.
Tim pointed that out in the huddle.
“They can stop the clock one more time,” Will said. “Just not us.”
They ran 38 Toss again, and it was as if the Panthers hadn't seen it all day. This time Will took it all the way to their fourteen.
Minute and a half left.
Now the Panthers called their last time-out.
It was all Will Tyler now. He knew it; the Panthers knew it. He carried up the middle for six yards, then ran off-tackle for four more. First-and-goal. He could have gotten a yard or two more but had no chance to get into the end zone. Decided to stay inbounds. Let the clock run.
Will tried to run left on first down but slipped as he made his cut, went down for a two-yard loss. Got back to the four on second, before getting stuffed by their nose tackle.
Third down from the four. Fifteen seconds now. Will's dad had two time-outs left, called one of them now. Signaled for the play he wanted.
35 Dive, to Will.
In the huddle Will said to Chris, “I'll line up at fullback. Give the ball to Tim.”
There was a long pause and Chris said, “You sure?”
Will said, “I'm so sure you wouldn't believe it.”
“You don't have to do this,” Tim said.
“Yeah,” Will said. “I sort of do.”
Chris went on a short count, taking the snap from Wes as Ernie Accorsi tried to push the Panthers' nose tackle all the way out of the back of the end zone. When the middle linebacker tried to step up and fill the hole, Will took him down with the hardest block he'd ever thrown in his life, sealing the hole for the friend who had sealed so many for him.
Tim LeBlanc scored standing up. His final touchdown as a Bulldog.
Bulldogs 20, Panthers 19. The refs didn't even bother having Hannah come out to kick the point. Game over.
When Tim broke free, Will handed him the ball.
“This belongs to you,” he said.
Tim said, “I didn't know we could keep game balls.”
Joe Tyler was there now. “You can carry that baby all the way to Arizona.”
Then the Bulldogs were swarming Tim again. When they finally settled down, on their way to get the snacks Ernie's mom had brought today, Will watched Toby break off on his own and start walking toward his dad.
Dick Keenan watched him come, no smile on him, no change of expression. When Toby got close enough, all his dad did was nod slightly, then point at his son.
A start,
Will thought.
This time Toby didn't have to walk to the parking lot alone.
CHAPTER 28
W
ill and Tim decided to say their good-byes in front of Vicolo's when Tim's party was over.
Will's dad and Tim's parents were the last ones left inside, finishing their coffee. Now it was just Will and Tim on Main Street, neither one of them wanting to act as if they were actually
saying
good-bye to each other.
Tim kept saying he'd call Will tomorrow as soon as he got to Scottsdale.
“I keep thinking that because of the time change, you'll get scores before I will,” Tim said.
Will said, “You would think that.”
“The only thing I really know about the Arizona Cardinals,” Tim said, “is that we beat them that time in the Super Bowl.”
We. The Steelers.
“That's the way we're probably gonna beat Castle Rock,” Tim said. “Some last-second hero play.”
We. The Bulldogs.
“That,” Will said, “would be sweet.”
“Don't
you
screw it up for
me,
” Tim said. “You know how the story is supposed to end.”
“Tell me about it.”
All their lives they'd been able to read each other's minds, know what the other one was going to say before he said it. And now it was as if they were just trying to find things to talk about.