HERE GOES NOTHING

People were cheering and yelling when I stepped out onto that field, but I couldn’t hear it anymore. All I could hear was that siren inside my head—the one telling me to run, duck, take cover, and GET OUT OF THERE! My knees were shaking for real, and I wondered if I was going to throw up on the ground, on my shoes, on the other players, or all of the above.

Even if I didn’t get hurt, I was definitely going to humiliate myself. In front of everyone. Including Jeanne.

“Coach, I… I don’t think I can,” I said.

“Kid, it’s just football,” Coach Shumsky said. “This is your chance to go have some fun.”

“Um… okay—”

“I’m kidding,” Coach said. “Get in there. Go get ’em. You know the drill. Sic ’em!”

Ha-ha. What a funny guy, I thought. Coach Shumsky was a real comedian. Because anyone who thought this was going to be fun was a COMPLETE JOKER!

But I still had to get in there. No turning back now.

I joined the huddle with a couple of other subs. Miller took over for Tug at quarterback, and he already had the play from Coach.

“Baines, Harrison, Abuja, start wide and go deep. They’ve got their biggest guys in the middle. Let’s see if we can get around them.”

“What about me?” I said.

“Block number eighteen,” Miller said.

When I looked up, I could see a guy with a big 18 on his back, huddling with the Southside team. As far as I could tell, this kid was somewhere between the size of an eighth grader and a house.

“Can I trade for someone else?” I asked Miller, but it was too late.

“We’ll go on two,” he said. “Break!” And just like that, we went into our positions.

Now that I could see number eighteen up close, he looked like a cross between a jackal and a serial killer. And I was pretty sure he could wad me up and toss me like a paper towel if he wanted to.

I mean, you’re not allowed to actually tackle anyone in flag ball, but let me put it this way: How would YOU feel if someone told you to block THIS?

I couldn’t remember what kind of stance I was supposed to do, so I just bent my knees and waited for the play to start. Or more like, prayed for it to be over fast.

“Rover twenty-three!” Miller said. “Hike! Hike!” I was probably supposed to know what that Rover thing meant too, but there was no time to think about it. Jason Carmichael made the snap, and everything started moving at once.

I’ll give myself credit for this much—I actually reached for the big guy. I tried to stay low like I was supposed to, but I think I closed my eyes for a millisecond. By the time I was done blinking, number eighteen had done some kind of spinning twisty thing, right past me. He was heading for Miller, who still had the ball, and I thought, Well, I tried. Sort of. Hopefully it would be over in about a second.

And that, my friends… THAT… is when the unthinkable happened.

Miller grinned—he actually smiled—right before he threw me the ball. It came like a spinning time bomb, right at my head, and right through some kind of hole that hadn’t been there a second ago.

All I could think was… actually, I thought a whole lot of stuff, but it all happened at the same time.

So, which one of all those things do you think won out?

(Hint: It might not be the one you expect. Keep reading and find out.)