“Here we are, in beautiful Pasadena, and I think everyone is ready for a great game of football. Don’t you agree, Lee?”
“I sure do, John. What a way to start the New Year. We have two great teams out here competing for the national championship. The Tigers and Bears have both had fantastic seasons so far.”
“Yeah, those kids on the Tiger defense are big and strong. Two of them, Danvers and Ray Morrison—he’s the middle linebacker and defensive captain, the real heart of their team—are taking home All-SEC Honors. Coach Roberts has graciously let us mike Morrison, so we can hear down on the field. Now that’s being brought to our viewers today by Motorola.”
“He’s a real gamer. I wouldn’t be surprised if there were some pro coaches watching today, just hungry for these tough guys.”
“Definitely. But when you’re talking about superstars-in-the-making, you have to talk about the Bears’ running back, number 34, Derrick Simms. There was never any question he was going to win the Heisman—he’s just magic to watch.”
—–
The locker room shudders with the bass rumble of men. The mingled smell of sweat and bleach, while familiar, does nothing to comfort the players. They yell and pace, gnash their teeth against mouth guards and clap each other on the back. The lone calm spot in the room, the center of the swirling maelstrom, is Derrick. He sits on the bench in front of his locker, his head bowed slightly and his eyes closed, holding his father’s class ring. All of the other players watch him without watching him. And while they can’t hear his voice, they have all read the stories and each knows the prayer he speaks as he brings the ring to his lips.
Derrick stands and the team quiets around him. They all want to believe in destiny; they all want to believe in him.
—–
“Here come the players, John.”
“Just look at how the crowd loves that running back. Wow. They know he’s something special.”
—–
As the television cameras focus in on the retreating back of number 34, the fans wave towels at him and stretch out their arms to touch his shoulder pads, exaggerating their hero worship for the viewers at home. The producers replace the audio of the cheering fans with the helmet mike of the Tigers linebacker: “Hey! Hey! I don’t care about that guy. That guy is nothing, you here me? I want all of you to hear me. This is our day! Are you with me, Jace? This is our game!” The voice remains disembodied as the cameras, shaking with the vibration of the stadium, trace the path of number 34 to the sideline.
—–
The thundering stadium is awash in blue and yellow, black and orange. On the home team’s side of the field, near the fifty-yard line, the Sigma Epsilons slowly, and quickly, drink themselves insensible. As the game begins, the fraternity brothers scream and pound their chests.
A Tigers fan, shirtless, chest painted with orange and black stripes, turns to the fraternity brothers and yells, “Our defense is going to fucking destroy Derrick Simms.” One fraternity brother staggers forward, his chest puffed out, and screams in the tiger-striped man’s face, “Hell no! We’re the fucking team of destiny, man.” The Tigers fan waves him off and turns back to the field in time to see the Bears’ running back bolt past a crowd of defenders and take off into the open field. The Bears fans growl and bark and laugh at the man in orange stripes. The marching band begins to play the team’s fight song in flashing brass voices.
Someone throws an empty beer can at the Tigers fan.
—–
“Just over five minutes into the second quarter and that Bear halfback is putting on quite a show. Almost one hundred yards rushing, two touchdowns, five receptions for forty-six yards. He is certainly making his college and mother proud.”
“That’s right, Lee. I’m sure many of our viewers have already read the article by Dan Silver, but if any of you didn’t, it’s a hell of a story. After his father died last year, a lot of people thought that Simms just didn’t have the heart to keep playing, but he has proved all of those doubters wrong. I was talking to his coach before the game, and he told me that, since last year, Derrick thinks of nothing but football and his mother. I can’t put it as well as Dan did in his article, but the kid is a real class act.”
—–
Janet Simms watches the game with her brothers and sisters in the small house she shared with Derrick’s father. Around her, they cheer and chatter, talking with casual ease about the game and all the luxuries that will come with Derrick’s first NFL contract. They no longer dwell on the tragedy of the car accident; they find distilled possibility in each yard Derrick runs. But Janet cannot forget. The crash of bones and sinew, rendered so clearly on the big screen television rented for the game, reminds her of the screech of metal and the scent of burning rubber. Every time he is tackled, she watches between her fingers and holds her breath until she sees him bounce back up.
—–
Every time they return to the huddle, it takes the Bears an extra few seconds to wipe the smiles off their faces. They grin like idiots. They laugh and joke, feeling the current of fate sweep them along. They are playing like kids at recess, throwing deep, running hard, histrionically panting and falling down after each big play.
Even Derrick feels the pulse of victory. After he cradles a pass against his chest and steps into the end zone, he pumps his fists and waves his arms to excite the crowd. As the half ends, both teams walk off the field, an air of certainty surrounding each.
—–
“I don’t think anyone expected a blow-out like this, John. I wouldn’t want to hear what’s going on in that defensive huddle.”
“This Tigers defense really needs to buckle down in the second half and show the Bears what they’re made of.”
—–
Half of the stadium is muffled—the Tigers fans drink their beer greedily, already resigned to going home empty-handed—when a Tiger defender picks off a pass and returns it for a touchdown. Suddenly every fan in the stadium is on his feet. The man painted with tiger stripes screams until his voice is hoarse.
—–
The producers cut to Ray Morrison racing into the end zone, his teammates clapping him on the back and helmet. “That’s what I’m talking about! Now let’s get out there and do that again!”
—–
“If you’re a Bears fan, I wouldn’t get too worried. They just need to put it in the hands of their best player and ride Simms to a national championship.”
—–
The tenor of the game has changed, but the Bears are still confident. The guards and tackles step up to the line of scrimmage, warriors at the point of attack. They are ready. When the ball is hiked, they grapple with the surging Tigers and push open a small gap. Derrick leaps through, a flash of blue and yellow.
Two defenders converge on him from opposite sides, one low and one high. The ball bounces onto the grass.
—–
The crack of the helmet as Ray Morrison collides with Simms’ knee sends feedback shrieking over the broadcast. A roar follows quickly as Morrison leaps onto the football. The camera, initially focused on the triumphant Morrison, slowly shifts back to Simms.
—–
Janet holds her breath, but he never jumps back onto his feet. The television cameras catch the sharp relief of his jaw line as he clutches at his knee. She realizes before any of her relatives that something has gone wrong. Slowly the din in the room dies down as everyone stares at the screen. Janet begins to shake her head, silently mouthing, “No,” again and again.
—–
“God.”
“Jesus.”
—–
At first, the tiger-striped man crows in victory, looking back at the fraternity brothers. The smiles have fallen away from their faces, and he turns back to the field. The entire stadium seems to be muted. He almost believes that he can hear the whimpers of the young man on the field. “I hope he’s all right,” he says, quietly.
—–
As Derrick is driven off the field in a golf cart, her oldest brother tries to reassure Janet that Derrick will be fine, but she stares blankly at the screen as tears stream down her face.
—–
Morrison walks alongside the cart, the camera following him, and whispers, “I’m sorry.” As the cart leaves the field, the camera remains focused on Morrison as he walks somberly back to his teammates.
—–
“That is a terrible injury to a very promising young man. I hope he’s all right.”
“So do I, John. So do I. But you can tell that Ray Morrison really cares. He’s such a good kid. Did you know that Ray, while his father was in and out of jail, worked two jobs to help support his family?”
“What a remarkable kid.”
—–
He claps his hands and tells his defensive squad, “This is our game, now. Let’s get in there.” He is going to lead their comeback, and it seems as though it was all destined from the start.
—–
“I know it’s a hard loss, but the Bears have to pick themselves up and move on. There’s still a lot of game left to play. I can’t wait to see how Morrison responds. He is one class act.”
“That’s right, Lee.”