William Kienzle: Sudden Death

“Pretty soon it’s going to be Galloway against the world. “

“That’s the way it started,” Koesler rejoined.

“I even saw in the paper where there’s some dissension on the team. . some bad blood between Cobb and the trainer.”

Koesler nodded. “They had some angry words at the last meeting. Some people are reluctant to believe it, but I think there are times when the spoken word is more permanent than words carved in stone.”

The timeout was over. The Cougars were returning to the line of scrimmage. Koesler and McNiff along with all the other spectators rose to their feet to give the Cougars all the encouragement their almost hoarse voices could muster.

“Here they come again, Lou. Their work’s cut out for them, with only 1:45 to go.”

“And they’re in the shotgun formation, Eddie. I wouldn’t be surprised to see them stay in that formation for the rest of the game. This is close to desperation time. Cobb takes the ball and fades. He can’t find anyone open. He’s scrambling and being chased. He’s waving his receivers into different patterns. Uh-oh, the left linebacker almost got him. He’s using up precious seconds. Okay, he’s got his man. Hoffer came back from a deep post pattern and he’s got the ball and is tackled on the spot. It’s a fifteen-yard gain. The clock is still running! Why don’t the Cougars call a timeout? Okay, finally they do. But letting the clock run like that may just have been a fatal mistake!”

“I’m afraid you’re right, Lou. The Cougars now have the ball on New York’s 40-yard line. They’ve used up their last timeout and there are just twelve seconds left on the clock. In all probability, the next play will be the last one of this game. And you can bet New York’s going to have everybody way back covering what has to be one of those old ‘Hail Mary’ passes.

“You know, Lou, this game has largely belonged to Hoffer and, of course, Cobb. The question on everybody’s mind this week has been, How badly are the Cougars going to miss the Hun? And I think young Hoffer has answered that question this afternoon.

“Although all Cobb’s passes to Hoffer have been of the short variety, this is what you expect from a tight end. Tight ends are not deep threats. But for what he is, Hoffer looks like he’s gonna fill the Hun’s shoes and more. Even if the Cougars lose this afternoon-and right now it sure looks like they will-this Cougar team has found itself a premier attraction. The crowd has taken Hoffer to their hearts. He’s gonna have a really great career.”

“Oh, I’m glad I’m not in the land of cotton. .” Bobby Cobb sang his parody of the Confederate anthem, “Dixie.” Again, it was one of his ways of keeping his team loose. And at this moment, he needed to remain as self-possessed as any of his teammates.

There were only a few seconds left in the timeout. And then, the final play of this game. Cobb beckoned Hoffer to bend close. “Well, Hoff, old man, we been foolin’ with this short game all afternoon. These dudes from the Big Apple know by this time that you can catch a short pass with the best of ’em. What they don’t know is that you got the afterburners of a rocket. I think it’s about time to show ’em what you got.”

Hoffer grinned from ear to ear. “Like, man, I thought you’d never ask.”

“I’m gonna call an eighty-nine out of the shotgun. That’ll get all the backs and wide receivers deep into the end zone, hopefully with most all the defensive backs. You delay a couple seconds, then give me a post pattern. If this works, I’ll hit you on about the 5-yard line. You gotta get it in from there. If it don’t work, that’s all she wrote.”

“Okay, Lou, the Cougars are coming up to the line. This is it.”

“Right. The noise is deafening. Cobb is waving his arms, asking for quiet so his team can hear the signals. He’s getting some cooperation. There’s the snap. It’s only a three-man rush. The Cougars’ defensive line seems well able to contain that rush. As anticipated, every receiver is cutting deep, but the retreating defensive backs are with them step for step.

“Wait a minute. I didn’t even see this: Hoffer has broken downfield after a delay. There’s a linebacker with him, but he’ll never keep up. Holy Christmas, I’ve never seen a tight end with that kind of speed.

“Cobb fires the ball. It’s a clothesliner. It may be too hot to handle. Hoffer goes up at the five. Holy-I didn’t think anybody could get up that high! Hoffer’s got it on his fingertips. He gathers it in. And he’s hit. One, two, three defensive backs all over him. But he hasn’t stopped. Those legs are still pumping. He’s carrying three defensive players all over him! Now he’s hit by the fourth back and he’s toppling. He falls. He’s down. Wait. . wait a minute! The referee has both hands raised. Hoffer broke the plane of the goal line! He scored! He scored! He scored! I don’t believe it! Four men on him and he scored! And the Cougars win it! It’s a miracle! It’s over; it’s all over! The game’s over and the Cougars win it!”

It’s like a miracle, thought Koesler, as all around him went berserk. As far as he was concerned, it seemed to bring everything full circle. It all started last Sunday and it was all over this Sunday. It thoroughly satisfied the priest’s deep-felt need for symmetry in life.

God’s in Her heaven; all’s right with the world.