Page 72 of Hard Count
Three and out by Denver followed.
Next drive, second and seven on the Denver thirty-eight, the linebacker got through the gap. Piper saw him coming and knew the throw was open, and he was not going to be standing when the ball arrived.
He released.
The hit came across his lower rib in a single blow that drove the air out of him before the pain did. He went sideways, took it on his shoulder going down, and the crowd noise pulled back.
Then the noise came back. The rib arrived with it; a line of fire under his pad on the right side burned through his body. The ball was gone. Completion, thirty-one yards.
He got up.
He got up the way he always got up, without putting a hand down to help himself. Tank was already jogging over.
“FUCK, you okay?” Tank said quietly as he grabbed Piper. “Don’t grab it. Go get it checked out.”
“No, I gotta finish this,” Piper stubbornly replied.
He ran the next rep off pure mechanics. The rib told him exactly where it was every time he twisted at the waist. He did less of that for the rest of the drive.
The drive ended in a field goal. Score: L.A. 6, Denver 0.
On the sideline, Tank stepped in close.
“Ribs?”
“All good.”
“You’re throwing it differently.”
“It’s fine,” Piper said, trying to get Tank to leave it alone.
“You’re lying,” he said.
“I’m playing.”
Tank let it go.
Third drive, Piper saw it before the snap. Safety late over the top. He took the snap and waited one beat longer than the rib wanted him to and released on rhythm.
Touchdown.
He didn’t celebrate. The receiver slapped his helmet once, hard, and ran on. Score: L.A. 13, Denver 0.
The ribs were louder now. FUCK JOAN, get me through this shit, I’m on fire and so are my ribs.
Denver started to show life and scored before the half on a long drive that ate up the rest of the second quarter. Score: L.A. 13, Denver 7.
Piper watched it from the sideline with a Gatorade, and the rib pain getting worse. He still refused to get checked by medical staff in fear he would get pulled from the game.
At halftime, the trainers wanted to look at it. He let them, but assured them it was nothing, so he went back out.
The third quarter was slower. Denver’s defense started to crash out. Windows closed faster. Piper threw less and threw shorter. Each team got a field goal out of it. Score: L.A. 16, Denver 10.
Then, on second and goal from the seven with four minutes left, Piper saw the corner inside again. Same look as the third drive.
He took the snap. His rib on fire.
Touchdown. Score: L.A. 23, Denver 10.
