CHAPTER 7
Carlos looked hard at Noah in the huddle. “We’re running again, Noah,” he said. “Power sweep. Wait for your guards, okay?”
Noah knew the play well. It would get some good yardage if the guards picked up the defenders in time. Otherwise, Noah would end up running straight out of bounds — or getting pounded into the grass again.
“Break!” Carlos shouted. The team lined up. Noah found his guards as the ball was snapped.
Both guards pulled right, and Noah fell in behind them. He knew he couldn’t cut up field until the defense had been fully sealed off.
But the guards weren’t big enough or strong enough to hold the defenders this time. The defensive line pushed through, and the hole wasn’t big enough to slip through. Noah and his guards were being forced toward the sideline.
No way, Noah thought. I’m not letting another loss of yards show up in my stats.
Noah cut back to the left. The defenders were fooled for a moment, and Noah cut up the field.
It wasn’t enough, though. The rest of the defensive line had already recovered and closed up the hole.
Noah threw up his arm and held the ball in one hand, like he’d seen so many great running backs do, but it didn’t make any difference.
In an instant, he found himself face first in the grass. There was a clump of dirt and turf stuck in his facemask.
“Ugh . . .” he groaned. He just wanted to stay where he was.
The Eagles who had taken him down got up and high-fived. Noah managed to get to his feet too, but he wasn’t feeling as good as they were.
The ref called out, “Loss of five yards. Fourth down.”
Carlos walked past Noah and pulled off his helmet. “I guess we’re not scoring this half,” he said. “Here comes the kicking team.”
Noah looked at the bench. Their kicker and special teams were heading for the field. Noah had blown it.