Football Genius (2007) (14 page)

SHE LOOKED PUZZLED, BUT
Troy couldn't worry about that. He plunged ahead, laying out his plan to use a cell phone to talk to her on the sideline so she could signal to Seth what the offense was about to do. He was speaking fast, desperate to get it all out so she'd see the beauty of it, so she couldn't say no.

"Troy?" she said, tilting her head. "Is that what it was really about?"

"What?" he said, doing his best to look dumb.

"You know what," she said, her voice getting softer. "You know."

"Not really," he said.

"Really, you do," she said.

Troy felt like he was on a hook and she was just reeling him in. He stared hard at the soda bottle, gripping it with both hands. Outside the window, the blue jay scolded something from its treetop.

"Do you know how
embarrassed
I am right now?" she asked him, her voice eerily calm.

"Why?" he asked.

She looked at him for a long time before she spoke. A crooked smile spread across her face.

"Because my son, my only son, is trying to trick me into doing something he knows could make me lose my job," she said. Her hands were out on the table now, clenched into fists and trembling. "Do you know I actually
hinted
that I'd go out with him again?"

"That would be good, right?" Troy said, his voice fading.

She pounded a fist on the table, rattling the cover of the sugar bowl and tipping over the salt.

"I am not a
toy
," she said.

"No one said that, Mom," Troy said, his eyes welling up with tears.

"You just won't let this stupid football thing go, will you?" she asked, roaring now. "Not until you've ruined everything. No, don't you cry. I'm the one crying here!"

Troy sprang up out of his chair and ran for his room, slamming the door and throwing himself on his bed. He strangled his pillow, then punched it, over and over, cursing under his breath. It was dark by the time his blood cooled.

He silently opened his door and walked softly out into the living room. He could hear his mom's voice talking to someone out on the front porch. Through the window, he saw her sitting there next to Gramp's scarecrow, her legs curled up underneath her. She was talking on her cell phone. Troy crept close to the door, resting his face against the frame, listening through the screen. It didn't take long to figure out she was talking to Gramp, telling him what happened. Troy winced as he listened.

"Yes, he's very likable, Dad," she said, "but how much of it is real?"

Silence.

"I'm not underestimating myself, Dad," she said, lowering her voice to a whisper. "No one wants a woman with a twelve-year-old kid. They just don't. I faced that a long time ago."

Troy staggered back, a heavy knot twisting in his gut. His face went numb. His whole body went numb. His mom's voice was just a garble to him now, noise without words.

On his next step, he stumbled and bumped into the lamp. He grabbed for it, but too late to keep it from crashing to the floor. The screen door swung open and his mom stood there with a look of horror on her face.

"I gotta go, Dad," she said, snapping shut the phone. "Troy, I didn't mean that."

Troy just stared at her. The sound of the crickets outside was broken by the faraway groan of an oncoming train. They stood that way, just looking at each other.

Finally, she said, "I'm sorry I said that. I didn't mean for you to hear."

Nearer and nearer came the sound of the train, until Troy could hear the clack of the wheels.

"It's okay," Troy said, finding his voice. "I know what I am. That's why I want this so bad. I want to
do
something. I want to
be
something. I thought this was my chance."

The little jar of seashells his mom kept on the coffee table began to rattle and shake. Down in back of the house, the train rushed by in a vortex of speed and blaring sound, dying slowly away as it rounded the bend by the Hooch.

"I'm sorry I said no," his mom said. "You're right. Maybe this is your chance, and I want to help you take it."

THE CROWD IN THE
Georgia Dome rumbled to life as the team took the field. Troy clenched Seth's cell phone in his hand and sat down between Nathan and Tate. Seth had gotten them tickets on the fifty-yard line. Troy searched the sideline for his mom and, as if she sensed him looking, she turned around and waved, pointing to her cell phone. Troy fumbled with Seth's phone and it slipped from his hands. Tate scooped it up and handed it to him, pinching it between her finger and thumb.

"It's all wet," she said, wrinkling her nose.

Troy wiped his sweaty palms on his pants and felt his face heat up. He dialed his mom and she picked up right away, looking at him as she did.

"All set?" she asked.

"I think so," Troy said. "You set with the signals?"

"Troy, between you and Seth I think I spent every free minute I had this week going over those things," she said. "I was doing them in my sleep last night."

Troy laughed at that.

"Call me when you know something, okay?" she said. "Good luck."

Troy felt like he was in a dream. The noise washed over him. The crowd cheered the Falcons and booed the visiting Oakland Raiders. He saw Seth come out onto the field and meet up with his mom on the sideline. She pointed at Troy. Seth gave him the thumbs-up. Troy raised his hand, then let it drop. Nathan leaned over him to buy a box of popcorn and a soda and had to shake Troy three times before Troy realized he was asking him if he wanted some. Troy said no thanks. The game began and Troy felt his insides go cold. The Raiders had the ball.

Troy gripped the edge of his seat, narrowed his eyes, and leaned forward. The Raiders ran the ball, then threw a pass. Two more runs. Two passes. Another run. Troy saw his mom look up at him from the sideline, and his stomach flipped. He felt his breakfast of scrambled eggs and ketchup boiling up into his throat and he choked it back.

Seth's words came back to him. If you can't do it under pressure, it's just a stunt.

"Relax," Tate said, offering him a bottle of soda. "You want a drink?"

"How 'bout popcorn?" Nathan said, stuffing a fistful into his mouth and spilling some onto the seats.

The Raiders completed a long pass on third down and got into field-goal range. The defense held them for three plays, then the Raiders lined up to try a field goal. The crowd sent up a wave of jeers. Troy pressed his hands against his ears, drowning out the noise, and concentrated. The Raiders' kicker missed and the cheers roared through Troy's hands. The Falcons' defense jogged to the sideline. Seth took off his helmet and looked up at Troy. Troy shifted his eyes.

A few seconds later, the cell phone rang. It was his mom.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said.

"Okay, honey, because Seth was asking me."

"I know," Troy said. "I'm trying. Something's wrong."

"Oh, honey," she said. "It's all right."

"Not really," he said. He felt those hot tears welling up behind his eyes. It made him furious.

"Was my father a crybaby too?" he asked.

"What?" his mom said.

"Nothing," he said. "I'll call you, Mom. When I see it."

He hung up the phone and bit into his lower lip. The Falcons drove down and tried for a fifty-two-yard field goal. They missed. The Raiders opened up with a long pass to Randy Moss. Touchdown. The Dome erupted in boos while Moss jiggled his backside.

The Falcons got the ball back, drove down, and made a short field goal. The Raiders took the kickoff and started to move, running five yards at a clip, completing almost every pass.

The crowd erupted and Troy looked down on the field. Randy Moss was in a shoving match with DeAngelo Hall. Yellow flags flew into the air. Both teams got penalized. The crowd's booing was like long, low thunder that just wouldn't stop rolling. Troy saw two wide receivers come off the sideline and head for the huddle as the fullback and tight end left the field.

"They'll motion Moss and throw a go route," Troy said, talking to Tate from the side of his mouth, his eyes intent on the field and the slouching, disrespectful body language of Randy Moss as he yelled and pointed his finger toward the referee. A "go route" was when the receiver used his speed and tried to just outrun everyone to the end zone.

"What did you say?" Tate said, grabbing him and shaking him.

"I said--"

"Call your mom!" Tate shouted.

Troy looked down at the phone and dialed. His mom answered, and he yelled the play into the mouthpiece. He squeezed the phone in his hand as he watched her. She was signaling to Seth, but he wasn't looking.

He must have given up.

But Troy's mom waved her hands furiously and got Seth's attention before dashing back behind the thick white line. Seth rolled his hands over in circles, motioning to Troy's mom to give him the signal again. She did, and Seth nodded and turned to the defensive huddle, pointing at Bryan Scott.

Moss sauntered back to the Raiders' huddle to hear the play, then they broke and came to the line. Moss went into motion. Troy stuffed a knuckle into his mouth. The quarterback snapped the ball and dropped into the pocket. Moss shot up the field. Troy saw Bryan Scott backpedal deep and drift toward Moss's side. The instant the quarterback started to throw, Bryan Scott took off toward Randy Moss. But the angle wasn't quite right. Moss was running too fast.

Even though Bryan Scott knew the play, Troy thought he wasn't going to make it.

TROY WAS RIGHT.

But it didn't matter. Even though Moss beat Bryan Scott to the end zone, the quarterback's throw didn't quite reach his receiver. Because Seth knew the play, he had blitzed through the offensive line and chased the quarterback, making him throw off balance. Bryan Scott spun, intercepted the wobbly pass, and ran it all the way back, ninety-one yards, for a touchdown. 10-7, Falcons.

"You did it! You did it! You did it!" Nathan and Tate screamed at him, jumping up and down and hugging him.

Tate kissed his cheek, and Troy felt tears spilling down the sides of his face, not tears of pain or fear, but tears of joy.

Pure joy.

Seth jogged to the sideline with his teammates, slapping high fives, head-butting, and hugging everyone around him. Troy kept his eyes glued to the old linebacker, so he saw Krock grab him by the front of the jersey and yank him close enough to say something into Seth's ear. Seth's face went dark. He shook his head, scowling at Krock, and walked through the cluster of players to the bench.

Seth looked up at Troy, gave him the thumbs-up, and winked with a big smile. Troy felt his insides glowing.

Troy's mom appeared and shook Seth's hand. He pulled her to him and gave her a quick hug. From up where he was in the stands, Troy saw Krock limping their way through the crowd of players. He sensed danger and knew Krock shouldn't see his mom talking to Seth. He dialed his mother, shaking his phone as if to make it ring faster.

She stepped away from Seth and answered.

"Get away from him, Mom," Troy said. "Krock's coming."

"Krock?" she said, taking another step back.

Krock broke through the wall of players and stood staring at Seth and Troy's mom. She turned her back to the coach, keeping the phone to her ear.

"What's he doing?" she asked Troy.

"Just looking at you," Troy said, hissing the words. "Walk away."

Slowly, she did. Krock eyed her for a moment, then turned his attention to Seth. Stabbing his finger at the linebacker, he began shouting.

"What's he shouting about?" Troy asked.

"He's telling him to play the defense that's called," his mom said, taking a quick glance over her shoulder. "He's saying Seth was supposed to cover, not blitz, the quarterback. I guess Seth changed the defense Krock told him to call after he got my signal."

"And he'll have to change it again," Troy said. "Rats."

"Seth can handle him."

"Let's hope. I'll call you when it's time for the defense to go out there, Mom."

Troy hung up and watched the Falcons' offense start to move the ball. They got to the fifty-yard line, and Josh Lock threw a perfect pass to Brian Finneran on a fifteen-yard crossing route. Finneran caught the ball but was instantly smeared by the strong safety. The ball popped loose and the Raiders recovered.

Nathan and Tate looked at him, and he nodded his head. The Raiders' offense came out and lined up in an I formation, running a simple run up the middle for a four-yard gain. Troy watched the field. The Raiders replaced the fullback with a third wide receiver. He dialed his mom.

"Draw play," Troy roared into the phone. "They're going to fake the pass and run right up the middle again."

Troy's mom had positioned herself right near the first-down marker, just as Seth asked her. She motioned her hands, signaling the play to Seth. The linebacker darted his head back and forth between Troy's mom and Coach Krock. He had to at least make it look like he was paying attention to the coach.

When Seth got the signal, Troy could see him shouting to his teammates. He was yelling and swirling his hand over his head like a cowboy in a rodeo. The Raiders lined up on the ball. The Falcons' defense started to crowd in. On the snap, everyone on the Falcons' defense blitzed through. Seth shot up the middle and nailed the running back just as he got the ball. The ball popped loose and a Falcons lineman came up with it, holding the ball high for the thundering crowd to see. The Dome shook under Troy's feet, and he and his friends hugged each other and screamed at the top of their lungs.

Josh Lock threw a touchdown pass to Alge Crumpler on the very next play. The place went wild.

After the kickoff, the Raiders went back out on offense, down now 17-7. Troy watched the people they sent out onto the field and dialed his mom, telling her they'd run a sweep play to the right. His mom signaled Seth, and the defense tackled the Raiders runner for no gain.

"Yes, Mom! Yes!" Troy shouted into the phone, pumping a fist into the air.

But Troy's mom didn't hear. She was jumping up and down with the cell phone in her hand, cheering along with everyone else. Troy was smiling down at her when Krock appeared, shoved her, and snatched the phone out of her hand.

The coach put the phone to his ear, and his voice snarled at Troy over the line.

"I know you're up there, boy," the coach said, gazing up toward the stands, "but you're finished!"