Knocked Into Next Week

Greg Van Fleet drifts in and out of consciousness.

“His helmet is split in half,” a voice says.

“He’s lucky his head isn’t in the same condition,” Head Coach Steele Stoneman replies. “Guess we’ll get the money for padded goalposts now.”

Greg tries to stand but can’t move.

He gasps for air. His heart pounds and Greg tries to remember how he wound up flat on his back…

Our Lady of Perpetual Sorrow High School hasn’t scored a point in two weeks, which means Greg, the team’s kicker, and third-string end hasn’t played at all, while his best friend, punter Dansby “Fridge” Sears has been seeing too much action. The team, which has yet to win a game in five tries, is helmed by Chance Champion, a third-string quarterback playing because of injuries. They were now facing the undefeated Hartsdale Hornets.

Greg searches the bummed-out bleacher crowd for his girlfriend, sophomore Prudence Regan, waving at her. The much admired, cute blonde shyly blows him a kiss.

“Did Prudence really say she wants to marry you?” Fridge asks, adding, “She’s sixteen. You’re eighteen. That’s weird. You’ll miss out on a lot of the fun if you go to college.”

“She knows what she wants,” Greg replies proudly. “And right now, she wants me. And she wants me to quit football.”

“Are you kidding?”

“She wants to spend more time together.”

The plump punter scratches at his curly mane of hair, looking disapprovingly at Prudence.

“Don’t fall for that. It’s the first step toward female domination.”

“What do you know about it? You don’t even have a girl,” Greg scolds. “I just wish I could get into a game.”

“Hoping to impress Miss America?” Fridge asks.

“I wanna be a real hero for her, just once.”

“If Prudence really cares about you, getting in the game won’t matter. You don’t wanna play in this game anyway. The Payne brothers are playing. They’re all-county players, all-stars. They’ll tear your head off and feed it to you. Besides, you can forget about playing wide receiver. ‘Hands of Stone’ and ‘Head of Stone’ haven’t caught a pass all season but they’re still the coach’s favorite players.”

Greg and Fridge grimace as Jaun “Hands of Stone” Jones and Sergei “Head of Stone” Bolinksi collide while running a passing pattern. Jones remains on the ground, clutching his shoulder.

“VAN FLEET! GO IN FOR JONES!” Coach Stoneman yells.

Greg straps on his ill-fitting helmet, sprinting to the huddle.

“Welcome aboard, Van Fleet,” Champion says. “I’m gonna do you a favor and let you show off for Prudence. The play is I-left-41 curl.”

As the huddle breaks and Greg runs to his position, it dawns on him that Champion has called his number for a pass play.

Greg looks into the hungry stare of Darius “Great” Payne.

“Nice. Fresh meat,” the muscular defender hisses.

His twin brother, Ladarius “Exceptional” Payne, flashes his sharkish-gold tooth display at Greg.

The brothers continue to stare and grin at Greg as if they know the next pass is coming to him.

When the ball is snapped, Greg bolts from the line of scrimmage, flying past Great Payne.

Greg stops and turns back toward Champion just as the quarterback releases the ball.

Greg has to wait for the wobbly pass to reach him. Catching it, he turns to run and is smashed in the shoulder blades by Exceptional Payne, as a recouped Great Payne wraps up his legs.

The resultant violent impact of the Payne brothers propels Greg out of bounds. He flies over the bench, landing with a painful thud on his back, but holds onto the ball.

The Payne brothers high-five each as Greg shakes the cobwebs from his head and trots back to the huddle.

“You okay, Van Fleet?” Champion asks.

“Never felt better.”

“Good. The play is I-left-41 curl.”

“Wait a minute,” Greg says. “That’s the same play.”

“It worked, didn’t it?”

Greg feels like a man headed to the gallows as he looks into Great Payne’s eyes. Great Payne makes a slashing move across his throat as if to say, “You’re dead.”

Greg takes off, with Great Payne following much closer than he did before.

He turns, waiting for the football. It slowly floats end over end toward him like a constipated duck.

Greg catches the pass and is immediately assaulted by the Payne brothers, who hit him so hard he flies past the out-of-bounds marker, over the bench, and onto the track.

Knocked nearly ten feet away from the field, it takes a moment for Greg to regain his senses.

“You tell your quarterback that if he throws in our zone again, we’ll knock you into next week,” Great Payne hisses.

Greg wobbles back to the huddle.

“I’m double covered. Don’t throw me the ball,” Greg says to Champion.

“The play is I-left-41 curl… bomb,” Champion says.

“What have you got against me, Chance? The Payne’s will cream me.”

“We gotta play the hot hand,” Champion replies. “You’re the only guy who can catch the ball. By the way, if you get killed, can I ask Prudence out?”

“Don’t worry,” center Bruce “Popeye” Perry whispers to Greg. “It’s a forty-yard pass play. Champion can’t throw the ball that far.”

The Paynes crack their knuckles as Greg assumes his stance.

Greg sprints, blowing past the Paynes. He looks over his shoulder, confident that Champion’s throw will never reach him.

The football spirals toward him.

Greg reaches out, the ball landing in his hands. He knows if he can control the football, he’ll score a touchdown.

He can hear the crowd's roar as he pulls the ball back toward his chest.

Bolts of pain shoot up his legs and, in his head, as Greg realizes the Payne brothers have tackled him in mid-air.

Greg’s body spins, slamming into the goalpost. His head and back crack against the goalpost’s cold metal as the football flies from his grasp.

Greg is unconscious before he hits the ground.

“…His tongue, pull his tongue out, he’s choking!” Coach Stoneman yells.

Greg gags, gasping for air.

His blurry vision begins to come into focus.

Greg turns his head. Players from both teams have taken a knee and are praying. Greg can hear some of them crying. Fridge is walking in circles, his meaty hands grasping at his hair as he mutters to himself.

Trying to muster a hopeful smile, Chris Zander, the team doctor, looks down at Greg.

“Can you move your arms or legs, Greg?”

“… I… I can’t even feel them…”

Coach Stoneman grabs Greg’s hands.

“Squeeze my hands, son.”

Delirious, Greg asks, “…How’d I do, Coach?...”

“Just fine, son,” Coach Stoneman replies, tears welling in his eyes. “As soon as you heal up, you’re gonna be a starting end… Now squeeze my hand.”

“Am I doing it?”

Coach Stoneman looks at Dr. Zander, who shakes his head somberly.

“You’re paralyzed from the shoulders down,” Dr. Zander says. “Your playing days are over.”