Chapter 87 Chapter Eighty Seven
Noah's POV (Part One)
The second quarter was all Jace.
He was playing like a man possessed; launching perfect spirals downfield, reading the defence like a book and scrambling out of the pocket when needed.
Every single play of his seemed designed to showcase exactly why he was captain, why scouts had travelled hours to watch him play.
And every play seemed designed to remind everyone that I was irrelevant. It was starting to really piss me off.
"Blue forty-two! Blue forty-two! Hike!"
Jace took the snap, pump-faked left, then fired a bullet to Donovan streaking down the sideline to gain thirty yards. The crowd went absolutely insane, cheering for the Tigers, waving their posters.
I jogged back to the huddle, my shoulder still aching like hell from that hit in the first quarter.
"I was open, why the hell won’t you just pass it over?” I demanded.
Jace didn't even look at me. "Marcus, I need you blocking their linebacker. Rodriguez, run a post. And as for you…” Finally, his eyes met mine. "Try not to trip over your own feet, you’re making the rest of us look bad. Got it?”
A few guys snickered on hearing that. I bit my tongue and bided my time, knowing that it wouldn’t be long till he would eat his own words.
Right now though, his play was working beautifully. They landed another touchdown, and there he was, Jace raising the ball high as his teammates mobbed him.
The scores were Tigers 21, Sharks 7.
We were dominating, that much was true, but as we lined up for the next drive, I noticed something out of the corner of my eye.
Jace was limping.
It was subtle, in fact if you weren’t paying attention you wouldn’t even notice it. Just the slightest hitch in his step when he planted on his right leg, so slight that most people probably wouldn't catch it.
But I'd seen the wrecked Mercedes being towed away two days ago. I'd noticed Jace walking back from Marcus's house instead of driving. And now, watching him favour that leg ever so slightly...
He was hurt. Somehow in that accident, he’d hurt his leg and sustained some kind of damage to it, and it was minor but it was there.
Not bad enough to bench himself, because Jace would rather die than show even the slightest weakness. But badly enough that the right hit could take him out completely.
“What’s up with your leg, Jace?” I asked, studying him warily.
“Shut the fuck up!” He yelled back with a glare, eyeing me up and down with a dirty look before running off to his teammates.
Halftime came and went. Coach gave us the same standard speech about maintaining momentum, not getting cocky, and staying focused on the game.
“Drinks on me when we bring it home, boys!” Jace yelled. The guys lost it, pounding their fists on the lickers and cheering him while he laughed it up.
I just shook my head, because we weren’t done yet, and I had a feeling something bad was coming. Our luck had been far too good so far, and those Sharks weren’t going to let that slide much longer.
The Sharks' locker room must have had a very different conversation, because when we came back out for the third quarter, everything changed.
Their defensive coordinator had clearly been watching the film, studying every play we made. I saw their guys pointing at Jace, gesturing to his right leg.
Then their captain; a massive defensive end named Big Morrison, called out across the line: "Number twelve's got a bad wheel, boys. Let's test it!”
The ball snapped, and Morrison bull-rushed straight through our line ignoring everyone else and went low, slamming straight into Jace's right leg.
“Fuck!” Jace went down hard, his face twisted in pain as he hit the ground.
The whistle blew, and the ref gave a personal foul, calling a fifteen-yard penalty. But the Sharks didn’t care one bit, Morrison was smiling as he jogged back.
Jace limped back to the huddle.
"Hey man, you good" Marcus asked worriedly. “That looked like it hurt.”
"I'm fine." Jace's voice was tight. "Just run the same play."
“We can’t let our entire play be focused on one single player, especially if that player can barely walk. We have to restrategize.” I tried to warn them.
“I’m Captain of this team Noah, not you.” Jace snarled, “Don’t want to do what I tell you? Then get off the fucking field and find a bench with your name on it.”
Then to the rest of the team, he went. “Tigers, same play! Now get your asses in formation!”
We tried it again, and this time two Sharks came for his legs; one high, one low.
Jace managed to get the pass off, but it was incomplete and he didn't get up as fast this time. He was failing.
Now the crowd was starting to worry as the mood changed, there was significantly less cheering now, and more concerned murmuring.
"Dawson, maybe you should…" Donovan started when we huddled again.
"I said I'm fine! What part of ‘I’m fine’ don’t you fucking understand!" Jace snapped.
But he wasn't. And the Sharks knew it.
They were targeting him relentlessly now. Every play, they sent someone after his injured leg, sometimes two people, and our offensive line, strong as it was, couldn't protect him from everything.
Now the Tigers were at 21, Sharks 14.
Soon the scores were 21-21.
And then the Sharks took the lead.
The momentum had completely turned upside down. Our perfect machine was falling apart badly and it showed.
Guys were missing blocks, running the wrong routes and fumbling snaps. We'd built our entire offence around Jace with him at the centre, and now that he was compromised, we had nothing.
I called for the ball twice, both times I was wide open ready to score, and yet Jace, the stubborn bastard, still forced throws to covered receivers instead.
By the fourth quarter, the Sharks were at 28, Tigers 21.
We were lined up on our own thirty-yard line when the worst happened. Another snap came clean, Jace dropped back to chase it, only looking downfield.
Their linebacker blitzed from his blind side and Boom! Crashed straight into him. The hit was vicious, a full-speed collision directly into Jace's right knee, obliterating it. I could hear the sound of that sickening crunch even over the crowd noise, even I winced.
Jace went down, and this time... he didn't get up.