Page 101 of Hard Count
He crossed the goal line at a full sprint with his head down and the corner’s hand on his hip and the safety closing from the other side, and he went down in a skid of mud and water six feet inside the end line with the ball tucked against his arm, and he was already thinking about the next drive before the whistle blew. Touchdown.
Tank was there first, in the mud, pulling him to his feet, and Piper was laughing, briefly, because the adrenaline was still pulsing through his body.
The head coach nodded and smacked the back of Piper’s helmet. Score: Seattle 7, L.A. 7.
Forty-one seconds until half.
Seattle came out throwing.
Noah threw for ten yards down field. The rain appeared to lift for a second, a break in the cadence that both sidelines felt, and Noah threw into a tight gap, and the ball got there with four inches to spare before the safety closed. Fifteen yards. He spiked the next one to stop the clock with twelve seconds left.
Then the rain came back with a vengeance.
Piper was watching from the sideline with his hood up and he saw the rain visibly accelerate across the field, a front movingfrom one end to the other in real time. It was coming. It was going to be a problem.
Noah didn’t flinch as the rain picked up.
He took the snap with eight seconds left and threw the ball to the sideline at the forty-six because that was as close as Seattle was going to get and he needed to stop the clock, and the kicker came out, and the kicker missed the field goal as a wind gust pushed the ball to the left as the crowd held their breath.
The half ended. Score: Seattle 7, L.A. 7.
***
The locker room was angry.
Nobody talked at first, the first half had taken it out of all of them.
The coordinator was standing in the middle of the room with a whiteboard and was waiting for the room to be ready for him.
Tank sat down next to Piper.
“Nice work out there keeping us in it.”
“I need to do fucking better,” Piper replied.
“Better ask Joan about it,” Tank whispered into Piper's ear as he placed his hand on his shoulder and squeezed.
The coach started his half time pep talk.
“They’re going to bring the house in the third. Whatever you think about tonight when it’s over, this is the one, this is our shot at the playoffs, it’s win and in. Each one of you needs to remember that!”
***
They came out for the second half under a sky that had gone entirely black. Piper watched Seattle come out first, and Noah come out last. They still hadn’t made eye contact during the game. Piper could feel the coldness, like they had never had that moment months before at their first meeting. The wink was not forgotten as far as Piper was concerned. It changed Piper in a way he was still processing.
The rain was coming down in waves now as the wind gust pushed it from side to side.
Whatever cadence Piper had been playing at in the first half was not going to work anymore.
Tank came up beside him.
“Fuck Seattle,” Tank said.
“Fuck Seattle,” Piper replied.
They jogged out. The third quarter was about to start, the rain was getting harder, and Noah Reyes was standing on the opposite sideline with his helmet under his arm looking across the field at him, and Piper met his eyes, across the distance, and didn’t look away.
Finally, he fucking looked,Piper thought as he put on his helmet.
