Play Maker (Bitsberg Knights Duet)

“This is it, Leverette,” Beauman said, taking his new-normal place beside me as we prepared to go out to the tunnel.

My jaw was tight, but I offered my best attempt at a smile. Though, it felt more like a grimace. My stomach was in knots, and every nerve and muscle was wound tight, ready to spring. I knew once my cleats hit the turf, I’d spring into action, but thinking ahead, all I felt was nauseous.

And for a good reason. By the time we made it through the first two quarters and the hoopla spectacle of a halftime show, we were down six points and the nerves that had kept everyone quiet prior to the game were now all channeled into smart ass comments and frustrated glares at one another in the locker room.

Coach tried to rally us, but when we hit the field for the third quarter, we were more disjointed than ever. The weight of it fell square on my shoulders. I was the quarterback. The leader. I was supposed to have my team’s shit together in the moments they were losing it the most. But the third quarter saw us slide even further and despair was palpable as we took a timeout.

“Leverette, over here,” Coach said, jerking his chin toward me.

I jogged over as he pulled me aside. “Yes, Coach?”

“Son, we gotta get this game back on course. We need this next play to get them fired up again. They love you. You’re the underdog story of the year, hell, maybe the best one in NFL history. So, if anyone is going to get the team in the right frame of mind to win this thing, it’s you. You got it, son?”

“Understood, sir.”

He laid out the play, and we hit the field, ready to get back on top. The Baltimore Bulldogs were a top team, one that was favored to win, and their arrogance poured off of them as they got into position. I channeled Coach’s voice inside my head and followed the play he’d passed down. It went off perfectly and we scored a touchdown.

The crowd cheered, and we stopped the Bulldogs from gaining ground before the end of the quarter. We went into the fourth on level ground, but thanks to a fumble; we wound up back where we started. By the middle of the fourth, we were down 21-17 and the Bulldogs had the ball. Their play was obvious, move the ball down the field and eat up as much time as they could to kick it and leave us with no choice but to get a touchdown or go home.

I watched from the sidelines, bouncing from one foot to the other, and was stunned when Chance caught an interception and stopped the Bulldogs’ reign of terror. We had two minutes left, and even before Coach pulled me aside, I saw what we needed to do.

We needed a touchdown, and damn it, I was going to make it happen.

For me. For the Knights. For my teammates, Brandon and Peters, who were waiting on the bench and praying all their hard work from the regular season wouldn’t come undone. For Shelby and our future.

It all came down to one moment.

Time was suspended in some kind of slow-motion action scene, and I was left with a familiar choice—tuck and run.

So that was what I did. I faked a pass, tucked the ball as tightly as I could against my side, and ran like hell for the end zone.

The stadium took a collective gasp as the Bulldogs realized the play and reassembled, everyone making a mad dash for me. I could hear them, feel them coming for me, but I zigged, zagged, and jumped.

And landed right in the end zone.

A twenty-five-yard touchdown was mine and the crowd went wild.

The Knights raced onto the field and piled on top of me before I could even process what had happened. We took the kick, but it was just for show. There was no way for the Bulldogs to take the title from us. We’d done it. We’d won the Super Bowl!

Confetti was raining down, the gold and silver speckles glittering in the afternoon sun. I stared up at it, trying to keep from breaking down into tears right there on the fifty-yard line with millions of people watching me.

“Ross Leverette, I’m not sure we’ve ever seen anything like this! What a season!”

I nodded and swiped at my eyes. “God, yeah, I don’t even—I can’t get my head together right now. This is just—”

“Ross!”

I turned at the sound and spotted Shelby bolting toward me, full speed, with the widest grin on her face. She crashed into my arms, nearly taking us both out, and planted a huge kiss on my lips, oblivious to the cameras or the thousands of people in the stands watching us.