The next day we started getting ready for our first game. Binks didn't bring the letter to the field. But it didn't seem to matter. I was thinking about Mary again. I thought I would call her when the team returned from our first game against Decatur. We rode the bus to Decatur. I ate a steak dinner and went back to the hotel. It was kind of a flea bag. Everybody was nervous, walking up and down the hall. I was rooming with Klobuchar. He didn't seem nervous. He went to bed early. I sat up reading, but he wasn't asleep very long and he started talking in his sleep, something about the mine caving in and then he started shouting: "Everybody out! Everybody! Out!" I couldn't take it. I got up and shook him and he woke and sat bolt-upright in bed.
"What the hell you dreaming about?" I asked him.
"I was back in Ely," he said. "And the whole town was falling into the iron ore pit. United Steel had dug under the town."
"Go to sleep."
"That's what I'm trying to do."
"Try a little more."
"Shut up," he said and pulled the covers over his head.
The next morning was cool. We went out to the stadium to work out, nothing special, exercises, tossing the ball around. Back at the hotel, the coaches talked to us. I went up to my room. We would eat about four o'clock.
I was reading when Binks came in and shut the door and told Klobuchar to leave us alone for awhile. Klobuchar grunted something about sand in his jockstrap and left the room. Binks sat down on the edge of the bed.
"What about the letter?" I said.
He raised one hand. "Take it easy. We'll get to that. First things first."
"Don't crap me."
"I've got news for you."
"Sure."
"This is a good break."
"Not if you're hooked up to it."
"Kaminsky sprained his ankle."
"Get him a doctor."
"You're going to play setback."
"No way."
"Extra hundred bucks."
"Two hundred."
"You sure don't think a lot of your backup quarterback, do you?" I said.
"You won't get hurt. Hell, you ran a lot with the ball in college and high school."
"I was a helluva lot younger. Hundred and seventy-five bucks."
"One sixty."
"You cheap bastard."
"One sixty?"
"And all the tape I can eat. O.K. One sixty." I didn't give a damn. I knew the plays. Reed came around and talked to me, wanted me to go over the game plan with Vakos.
"Just tell him to get the ball to me."
Reed shook his head and went out.
About four o'clock we went downstairs for the pre-game feed. Steak and eggs. It was dark when we came out onto the field into a bowl of light. Reed had given us the usual crap in the dressing room, how we had to really hustle, put out, make the maximum effort. I ran through the basic plays with Vakos after calisthenics. Then it was time. We won the game toss. We huddled around the coach. Everybody was making some kind of sound to get psyched up. I didn't say anything. For the first time in a long time, I was scared. It had been a long time since I'd run with the ball, and a hundred and sixty bucks wasn't a hell of a lot to get for committing suicide. One good bust and I was finished as quarterback. I wondered how bad Kaminsky's ankle was. Maybe Reed and Binks were framing me. Good way to,get me out of the way. No, that wasn't it. They needed me if Vakos got hurt again. I looked at Decatur. My guts knotted. Decatur looked big in black and white jerseys and white pants. Then the sound of the band rose over the sound of all the yelling, just a monstrous thudding. I watched the kick-turn team take the field. I heard the whistle, saw our deep men get ready to receive. The kicker started toward the ball.
On the first play from scrimmage, Vakos gave me the ball. I made two yards. Somebody hit me low and the linebacker gave me a hardshot in the head. My guts relaxed. Vakos threw to Leighton on an up pattern. It was good for six yards. Vakos pitched out to me and I made six behind a solid block and cut inside and went to their thirty. I could feel we were moving.
Vakos pumped his face mask with one hand. Wide out for Leighton.
"Hit. At a way," Klobuchar said in the huddle. "Good pop Gussy. At a way."
Schaeffer, sliding sideways, faked the linebacker wide and got tackled at the ten. I went up the middle to the four. We were moving sharp. I knew we were going to make it. I felt like I was back in high school. In a way it was a relief, better than playing quarterback. But I can end my playing right here. Last time I'd play setback. Schaeffer dived to the two-yard line. Vakos faked a handoff to me and slid off tackle and went in for the touchdown on one knee. Bower Hawthorne came in to kick the extra point. I went out and knelt on the sidelines. The band and blaring and the glowing darkness was full of screaming and yelling from the stands. Reed knelt down beside me.
"Matt, fire out faster on two-two-twenty five. Go. I mean go."
"O.K."
"All the way."
"All the way," I shouted into the din of noise.
Decatur came back strong. We went into a five-four over shift. The Decatur quarterback, Bob Beebe, out of an eight protection, fired three passes in a row and moved to our forty. He went to the ground and we stopped two running plays and a long pass. They punted and Rexford ran it back to our thirty. Vakos hit Leighton on a wide out for ten, and then Klobuchar slugged and got caught. I picked up nine. Vakos threw to Schaeffer against a loose-six defense and their secondary had only two defenders to counter three receivers. Schaeffer caught the pass and picked up twelve yards. They stopped us then and we had to punt. I kicked to their thirty-four, and the receiver got nailed after a five-yard return.
Beebe moved them in the air, using screens and draws and quick outs. They were on our fifteen. We were off sides. One play. A pass on a drag pattern and they scored and kicked. the extra point.
In the next huddle on our thirty, Vakos said, "B-right-flip 8. On two." He looked at me.
"What the hell," I said.
"Yeah," said Buckram, a guard. "What the hell. I never heard the play."
"Why don't you listen in practice?"
"You're nuts, Vakos," I said. "It's not in the play book."
"It's in mine."
"O.K.," I said'. "What is it?"
Vakos looked at the guard. "Wing back, crack back. Strong end, on, outside. On-tackle, pull, lead. On-guard, pull, hook tackle. Klobuchar, on near gap, downfield. Off-guard, inside, on, outside linebacker. Off-tackle, release. Split-end, down-field. Scallen, take exaggerated open step, keep angle away from the line – look for the ball all the way – key to pulling tackle's block downfield."
We were penalized for too much time in the huddle.
"Goddamn it," Vakos said in the huddle. "Stay awake in practice."
"Bullshit," somebody said. "Stop making up plays."
Third and nine. They red dogged. Vakos had to roll out. I hooked and held the outside linebacker. He flung me away and I ran and Vakos threw but it was too high even to jump off. Reed shook his head and glared at me as I went past him and sat on the bench. Kaminsky sat next to me. He was suited.
"Why aren't you playing if you're suited?" I said.
"I could play. Coach doesn't think so. I know I could. Suited me so nobody'll think I'm hurt."
"What do you figure they're thinking if you're sitting on the bench?"
"It'll fool 'em."
"Who?"
"Next week. Fort Wayne."
He got up to get a drink and fell down.
Beebe really started to move Decatur, up the middle, around end, slants, counters. Reed was raving. Bobby Richards broke his leg. I was really pooped at the end of the quarter. My mouth was full of cotton. I was glad to be sitting. Beebe on a Statue of Liberty, with the end coming around to take the ball, moved to our five. Beebe faked a hand off and kept and tried to roll around end and got hit and fumbled. I picked up my helmet and jogged out with Klobuchar who said: "We'll kill the bastards."
Vakos got a good series going.
Somebody half clipped me and knocked me down. The fans were screaming at that somebody. I couldn't hear the name. The officials didn't see it. But I had a first down. Vakos bootlegged fake away to me. I went straight ahead to block the tackler. The play was going wide. I nailed the tackle. Hoke got the ball off Vakos' outside hip and ran close to the double team block against odd line. Second and six on their forty-five. Vakos called time and went over to the bench. He came back, shaking his head a little.
B-Right-50 Trap I faked a block on the tackle and started downfield. Hoke ran close to the trap block on an even line defense. MacDonald missed the trap block. The. end knocked Hoke flat on his ass. MacDonald came to huddle, holding his gut with one hand. His face was white.
"For Crissake," Vakos said. "What the, hell. Can't you handle him?"
"Somebody slugged me," MacDonald said, holding his guts.
"Blow it out," said Giese.
"Ribs?" Gleason said.
"I'll kill the cocksucker," said MacDonald.
"You O.K.?" Vakos asked.
"If you're hurt, get out," I said.
"Piss on it," said MacDonald. "I'll fix his ass."
"Come on,,come on," said Vakos. "Third and eight."
"Let's go," said Voss.
Their linebackers started to blitz. I thought Vakos ought to throw short. Let the receivers break their patterns and Vakos could hit the receivers for short gains. But I didn't say anything. Both outside linebackers blitzed. Vakos got dropped twice for a loss. I stayed back to block. Vakos overthrew Leighton in a man-to-man coverage. Vakos hadn't passed fast enough. Vakos' arm wasn't strong enough. His hands were slow. Hawthorne came in to punt. About thirty-five yards. I was standing next to Reed.
"Why didn't you let me kick?" I said.
"Shut up," Reed said.
Beebe got hot, throwing short and long. Right down the field. Fifty yards. First down on our fifteen. Our defense blitzed. Both the left halfback and their fullback picked up the blitz by looking back fast on their swings. Beebe unloaded fast and almost hit the fullback in the back of the head with the ball. But he caught it. Second and three. We started a seven-man rush. The fullback beat the defensive end on the swing and went into the end zone standing up. The conversion was good. The kick-return team looked slow going out onto the field. Fitmaurice ran it back to the twenty-five. I went in.
Vakos called an audible signal for a four-yard hitch pass to the flanking spread end. Decatur immediately revolved to a zone defense. Vakos hit Schaeffer for twenty.
A right X 99 Vakos started to spring out. I was on a fan route. I caught the ball in the flat for nine yards. Then I got blind sided. Then a couple others hit me. They were all piled on me. Somebody was hissing.
"Kill you. Kill you. Kill you. Prick. Prick."
I pushed a hand off my face before I got a finger in the eye. 73-Quick Y-Hook Leighton caught the ball, but it looked short of a first down. My side started to hurt. I couldn't remember being hit there. They measured and we were short by a foot. Decatur went into a five-two defense. Tough to run against, but Vakos handed off to me. I ran straight ahead. That's the safest route. Whoever saw Unitas try to run wide? I was going to save a piece of myself for quarterbacking. Somebody clothes lined me and two monsters high-lowed me. I thought I was broken in half. I got up, heard the band. It sounded far away. Somebody put my helmet on my head.
"Vakos, you stupid bastard," I said. "Do you want to win this game or get me killed?"
"Fuck off," said Vakos.
"Run against a five-two!" I said. "Your brains are up your ass."
He knew I was right. Against a five-two, you throw to the strong side – the side of the flanker and tight end. We walked over to the bench and Reed came over.
"What in hell are you doing?" Reed said to Vakos. "Running against that defense!"
"Short yardage."
"Short yardage, my ass. You all right, Matt?"
"Yeah."
"You dumb-dumb," Reed said to Vakos. Sure, Vakos was trying to get me killed, but he'd cut his own throat with a few more calls like the last one.
Posz came out with blood all over his face. Preston was holding his arm. Neiman looked as if somebody had punched him in the eye.
Beebe started throwing again. We went into a zone defense. Beebe started faking the running play and passing off the fake run. Ten, twelve, fourteen yards. They were flooding the zone, three fast receivers. Beebe's pass protection was holding up. When you've got that, there's no such thing as a zone defense. Our linebackers were being forced to play close to the line of scrimmage. Beebe was hooking passes between the cracks, slant passes to the end and flanker. Picking us apart. Then it went to his head. Beebe threw long. You almost never should throw long against a zone defense. Sawyer picked it off. My side felt better as I got up from the bench.
I came back on the counter and took the ball from Vakos and went inside behind a cross block into the three hole. I saw Klobuchar coming down the line to nail the linebacker coming across; I went to the outside and cut back against the traffic. I thought I was going to make it. I gave somebody a leg and took it away and then the roof fell in as somebody hit me from behind. Then I got piled. I got up hurting all over. 74-Out-X-Slant and Up I slanted inside the spread end and went up and across and behind Leighton. Leighton was clear. Then I saw the ball coming. I got hit just as I reached for it. I walked past Vakos on the way off the field.
"You dumby," I said. "Leighton was open."
"You look good out there, Matt."
Hawthorne punted about fifty yards. Reed came over to me.
"Why didn't you hang onto the ball?"
"Why didn't he throw to Leighton?" I said.
"That ball was right to you."
"I'm a quarterback."
"Take it easy," Reed said. "You're not such a damn poor setback."
"If I live."
"You'll live."
"Not playing quarterback."
"You're getting paid."
"Rebellion prices."
Posz took my arm and led me away.
"Reed knows what he's doing," said Posz. "You can count on that."
Beebe was smart. More slant passes. Twelve yards. They carried Preston off on a stretcher. Out cold. Then a hook pass with the end running a deep pattern was good for sixteen. It burned the ass of the over-aggressive defender. Then the tight end went up on a center pass. He was fast, faked a good move to the outside, then went inside on a ninety-degree angle. He looked for the ball on the break. It wasn't there. Beebe still had good protection. The end went on across the field, Beebe hit him and he went all the way to the twenty before Neiman got him from behind. Then Beebe lost his smarts. He tried running plays and lost eight yards. Hitch pass. Just a little five yard beauty, but the end was a real cutey. Good head and shoulder fake to the inside, then he pivoted to the outside, turned up the sideline and would have made it but he cut it too fine and stepped out of bounds. I looked at the clock. Better go for a field goal. But they were going to go touchdown. First a corner hook, dropped, then a hook and go. Intercepted by Broadhurts. I trotted out.
A Right X 94 Throwback A quarterback should only run out of sheer fright. All I can say is the protection broke down. I looked back. Vakos was running. He was not exactly Bobby Layne. I like to run only off the quarterback draw. Vakos was not that fast. Go straight, I thought, go straight. The dumb-dumb was moving to the outside. Vakos the gazelle. He turned upfield. Three of them had the angle on him. Run for the sideline, dumb-dumb. He headed for the sideline but just as he stepped out of bounds, the three hit him. They got up but Vakos didn't move. I walked over to him. He was out cold, face down. The trainer jogged across the field. He turned Vakos over. They put Vakos on a stretcher. I looked over at Reed and walked over to the bench.
"I want you to give it all you've got, Matt," he said. "You gotta move this team. I want you to move it. You can do it. How you feeling?"
"I'm all warmed up." I walked away.
"Let's move that ball!" Reed yelled.
Fred White, a setback, first year out of a small Southern college, came running out to replace me.
Wing-right with a double flex.
White made six yards on a slant. Seven-man zone defense. Make the defenders desert their zones. Five-man pass pattern. I hit Leighton for twelve on the spread side. I felt happy. The air and grass smelled good again. I could hear the shouting now in the stands. I hit the spread end for thirteen with a sideline pass. Christ, we were really moving.
In the huddle, I said, "Anybody spotted a dog?"
"The right corner linebacker is slow," said Neiman.
The gun sounded and we all took off for the dressing room.