Chapter 8

Scooter

I’m not sure how I caught Joey’s pitch. It was a matter of reflexes, I guess.

It wasn’t something I thought about one way or the other.

Instincts. That’s all it was.

Nothing else that happened was planned either.

Two guys were closing in on me, so I stutter-stepped. I half-spun. I ducked and lunged. Using my hand for balance, I stayed on my feet and scampered to my right. I planted a foot in the ground and cut back to the left and then again across the line of scrimmage. One more cut and a stiff arm later and I was running free.

It wasn’t until I got to the end zone that I had any idea of what I had just done. I turned back to the field and saw bodies strewn everywhere.

I did that, I thought. This must be how Barry Sanders used to feel after a long run.

Thinking of Sanders reminded me of how he acted after he scored touchdowns. No matter how incredible the run was, he didn’t celebrate. He definitely didn’t showboat. He just found a referee and hustled over to hand him the ball.

Since this was practice, there wasn’t a referee. But there was Coach Douglas.

I ran the forty yards back to the line of scrimmage, head down, and handed the football to my new coach.