With the march-ons complete and the cadets now in their seats engaging in good-natured razzing with the midshipmen, the teams began coming onto the field to warm up.
Stevie noticed they didn’t come out all at once. The kickers came out first, apparently so they could boom kicks all over the field without getting in anybody’s way. Then the rest of the players came out by position: linebackers, defensive backs, linemen. The so-called skill position players-quarterbacks, running backs, and receivers-came last.
Stevie and Susan Carol both saw players they’d gotten to know well, but there was no time for chat-the players were all focused on getting warmed up for their biggest game of the year.
By eleven o’clock, the field was filled with players and the stands also appeared full. Stevie had no doubt there were still some people trying to get through security, but it looked to him as if most people had heeded all the warnings about arriving early.
Susan Carol saw that the officials were also on the field, warming up. She hadn’t realized when she wrote her story about the officials at Notre Dame that some of them would be working this game as well. She tried to unobtrusively keep Stevie between her and Mike Daniels, and for the first time she found herself wishing that Stevie was taller.
She was glad when Kelleher, Pete Dowling, and Bob Campbell returned after another pregame check-they offered more cover.
“Another hour and we’ll have the president in his seat and be seventy-five percent of the way home,” Dowling said.
“Seventy-five percent?” Susan Carol asked.
“The president has to cross the field at halftime,” Dowling said. “That’s another high-alert moment for us. And then we have to get him home.”
“And still no sign of trouble?” Stevie asked.
“None. The people we’ve been watching are still outside tailgating. Haven’t even made a move to come inside.”
Campbell said, “We had their license plates and knew what parking lot they had a pass for, so their cars were checked thoroughly coming in.”
“And you didn’t find anything?” Susan Carol said.
“Nothing but beer and cameras and extra scarves,” Dowling said.
Susan Carol gave them credit for that. She wished she had an extra scarf about now. Even wearing long underwear, a down coat, a hat, gloves, and a scarf, she was still cold. But the sun was warming things up-it might hit forty by noon.
The PA announcer was telling everyone that the players would be clearing the field by 11:20 so the parachutists could make their jumps into the stadium.
“Marine One doesn’t leave the White House until that’s over,” Dowling explained. “Once the president leaves the ground, the airspace around here is completely locked down until he’s back inside the White House after the game.”
“What about planes heading to National; isn’t this right along their route?” Kelleher asked.
“Sometimes it is, depending on the wind,” Dowling said. “But from eleven fifteen until about four o’clock, they can’t use this flight path. Fortunately, it’s a good-weather day, so they’ve got lots of options. Shouldn’t cause any delays.”
Stevie had a game-day itinerary that was planned right to the minute. The parachutists were supposed to begin landing at 11:26.
And sure enough, when the players had all gone back to their locker rooms, he heard the sound of a plane overhead.
Ninety thousand faces turned up to the sky to watch as eight specks started falling. Then one by one, eight enormous parachutes unfurled. In the sky they seemed to be gliding slowly and smoothly, but the closer they came to the ground, the more Stevie could see they were moving at an incredible speed. Skydiving-yet another thing he wasn’t eager to try.
The divers left ribbons of red and blue smoke streaming behind them. They must have had some kind of special equipment in their shoes. It was a great effect.
The PA announcer told the divers’ names as they touched down on the field and worked to gather in their still-billowing chutes. Amazingly, the last diver, who was carrying the official game ball, touched down right on the huge Army-Navy game medallion painted at midfield. The referee met him there to accept the ball to great applause.
To Stevie’s surprise, he also heard a smattering of boos. But then he saw they were coming from the Navy side-clearly some people had recognized the referee.
Pete Dowling had one hand on his earpiece. “Marine One is in the air,” he reported. “We’ll have wheels down here at eleven thirty-eight.”
“Everything is on schedule, then,” Susan Carol said.
“So far,” Dowling said. “We all just want to see a good football game and have that be the story of the day.”
That sounded good to Susan Carol. And just about perfect to Stevie. He hadn’t really fully appreciated how hard the Secret Service’s job was until a small incident had set off fireworks at the Army-Navy lunch.