Worth The Trouble

Friday, October 24th, 1986 - 9:18pm - Touchdown

 

ROGER FLEMING COMMANDED the huddle. His hands moved as the clock drained down on the scoreboard.

 

“Red three. Red three. Corners watch deep. Jesse, you got the middle. Ashford, strong side flat,” he said.

 

Ty Hensley wiped his mouthpiece down the front of his jersey and shoved it back in. There was grass in his facemask and he’d quit trying to get it out three plays ago.

 

“Third and five,” Jesse Duffy, the middle linebacker, said. “They gotta throw it.”

 

Roger’s head came around.

 

“Hensley. You got the weak flat. Make sure it’s covered.”

 

“I got it.”

 

“Say it again, Hensley.”

​

“I got the flat.”

“Ready?” Roger clapped once, hard. “Break!”

 

They broke the huddle and Ty jogged out to the right side. The scoreboard in the far end zone read 1:16 left in the game. Fourteen to ten. Down by four points. Ty glanced at the visitor side to see their fans cheering. The ref holding the down marker stood on the St. Joe forty.

 

Ty had been out here for almost the whole second half. This was more snaps than the first seven games put together, and his legs started feeling it around the middle of the fourth.

 

The offense came out with a two back set. The tight end went to the right. Ty moved left to the weak side. He checked the receiver split out wide and focused on the quarterback.

 

Ty slapped the sides of his helmet twice.

 

One of the running backs set up in the backfield on his side and settled into his stance. Roger, the strong side linebacker, lined up on the right side of the defense about five yards off the line. He was up on the balls of his feet with his hands out in front of him. He was talking. Ty couldn’t understand a word of it over the band.

 

The center snapped the ball.

 

“Pass,” Ty yelled. “Pass, pass…”

 

The back on his side moved to block then ran out towards the sideline. Ty went with him checking his area. The quarterback’s shoulders came around towards the back. Ty broke towards him as the quarterback let go of the ball.

 

He cut in front of the back and caught the ball right in his chest.

 

“Go! Go!”

 

He never knew who yelled it. The ball tucked into his right hand as he ran. He crossed midfield and nobody was with him.

 

The St. Joe sideline was jumping as he turned his head for pursuers. The thirty went by. Then the twenty. He turned his head once at the fifteen and could see nothing but grass. The last ten yards he held onto the ball tight with both hands.

 

The official’s arms went up as he blew the whistle.

 

Touchdown. His first touchdown this year.

 

The scoreboard ticked sixteen to fourteen.

 

Roger hit him before he’d finished turning around, both arms, driving him back toward the end line. Brent Ashford came in from the side and got a hand on the top of his helmet, cranking it sideways.

 

Brent yelled right into the earhole of his helmet. “You did it! You freakin’ did it!”

 

Ty laughed into his mouthpiece, but couldn’t get it out.

 

Three more guys crashed into the pile and somebody’s forearm came down across the back of Ty’s neck. He pulled his helmet straight to face teammates yelling at him.

 

“Sixty yards, Hensley!”

 

Roger got a hand on his shoulder pad and left it there. “Heck of a play, Sophomore.”

 

Ty high-fived Jesse. “Heck yeah.”

 

Ty came off as the kicking team went in. By the time he had his chinstrap unhooked, Roger was fifteen yards away hollering at them to hurry it up.

 

Coach Warner met him at the twenty and caught the front of his shoulder pads. Ty stopped as he pulled him over.

 

“What do we always say?” Warner patted his shoulder pad. “Stay where you’re supposed to be, good things happen.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“That’s why we tell you that.”

 

Ty grinned. “Yes, sir.”

 

Warner turned him loose with a push toward the bench. “Go get some water. You’ll be back out there after the kickoff.”

 

The snap came back clean and the kick went through the middle of the uprights. The score now was seventeen to fourteen. The whole sideline and stands roared again. Ty got a paper cup off the table and squeezed it into his mouth. His hands shook enough that half of it ran down the front of his jersey.

 

Brent came in beside him and took a cup for himself.

 

“That quarterback almost had you.”

 

“Come on, man, I don’t think he was even close.”

 

“He had your jersey.”

 

“Dude, no way. All he had was air.”

 

“Is that why you looked back?”

 

“There was nobody there.”

 

Brent grinned at him over the top of the cup. “You looked back ’cause you thought he was catchin’ you.”

 

The last pass of the game hit the grass ten yards short of the visitor sideline. The horn went off before the receiver had gotten back to his feet.

 

Ty pulled his helmet off and held it against his hip. Guys were coming out onto the field, and somebody got him between the shoulder blades hard enough to move him forward a step.

 

The teams crossed at the fifty and the handshakes went fast, good game good game good game, half of them not looking up. The quarterback came down the line and stopped when he got to Ty.

 

“Nice play, thirty-two.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

Then he was gone down the line, and Coach Warner hollered for them to gather up.

 

“Bring it in. Right here. On me.”

 

They came in off the fifty and took a knee around him in the middle of the field. Somebody’s mother was hollering a name from the fence and wouldn’t quit. Roger knelt on Ty’s left with his helmet upside down in the grass in front of him.

 

“Good win,” Warner said. “It wasn’t a pretty one.”

 

“Counts the same,” somebody said from the back of the circle.

 

Warner let that sit. “It does. You boys got the job done.”

 

He waited until the team settled down again.

 

“We got things to fix Monday going into our last two games. Offense, you did a great job. Defense, you kept us in it all night. Special teams didn’t give a thing away.” His eyes came around the circle and stopped. “And when we needed somebody to make a play, Hensley made one.”

 

A hand came down flat on the back of Ty’s head from somewhere behind him.

 

“That’s what happens when you do your job,” Warner said. “You don’t go lookin’ for the big play. You do your job long enough and sometimes it comes to you. Enjoy tonight. Be smart. Homecoming’s tomorrow and I don’t want to hear about one of y’all doin’ somethin’ stupid.”

 

He took his cap off.

 

Thirty-some heads lowered and the circle went quiet. Ty said the Our Father with his eyes on the top of his helmet, the way he’d said it after every game since August. The words ran ahead of him the way they always did.

 

“Amen.”

 

“Amen.”

 

Warner put his cap back on. “Now, let’s get out of here.”

 

The team rose and roared all at once.

 

The locker room was loud and getting louder. Somebody had a radio going on top of the lockers and lost the argument about it twice. Ty pulled his shoulder pads over his head and dropped them in his locker. He sat down and got the first shoe off. He was working on the second one when Roger came down the row with his bag already up on his shoulder. His hair still wet.

 

“Hensley.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“We’re goin’ to Whataburger.”

 

Ty stopped with the shoe in his hand. “Who is?”

 

“Us.” Roger tipped his head across the room, where Brent and Diego were already dressed. Marcus pulled his shirt down over his head. “You comin’?”

 

It took Ty a second. “Yeah.”

​

“Then hurry it up. I’m hungry.”

 

Roger was gone towards the door before Ty got the other shoe untied.

 

Jenny Martinez was out in the lot with her mother’s car running behind her. She cut across two rows of cars and got to him before he had his bag up on his shoulder.

 

“Well, look who it is. Mister Touchdown.”

 

Ty ducked his head. “Oh, you liked that one, didn’t you?”

 

“I did. Hey, I only get about a minute, so I’m using it.” She was walking backward in front of him now. “You looked really fast out there.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“For you.”

 

“Wow. Thanks a lot.”

 

Her mother tapped the horn. Jenny put a hand up behind her without turning around.

 

Ty looked past her at the car. “Your mom know where you’re at?”

 

“She knows. She just hates waitin’.”

 

Roger’s voice came across the lot. “Hensley! Whataburger. Let’s go.”

 

Ty turned around. Roger’s truck sat under the light at the far end of the lot. Brent and Diego were already leaning on the tailgate.

 

Roger Fleming was yelling his name in front of everybody.

 

When Ty turned back, Jenny had stopped walking backward.

 

“You’re really going with them?”

 

“Yeah. Roger asked me to come eat with ’em.”

 

She backed up a step. “Well, you’re not spending tomorrow night with them.”

 

“I’m taking you, ain’t I?”

 

“Then you better actually hang around with me.”

 

“I will.”

 

“Ty.”

 

“I said I will.”

 

The horn again, longer. Jenny pointed at him, walked backward three more steps, then turned and ran for the car.

 

The guys took two booths at Whataburger. Ty didn’t get to pick which one.

 

Roger and Brent took one side of the first booth, Roger on the aisle. Diego and Marcus sat across from them. Ty ended up on the outside of the second booth with two juniors and Kenny Salas, one of the other sophomores who’d dressed out for the varsity squad. Ty’s back was half turned to the seniors. He spent the whole meal twisted around in the seat to be part of anything.

 

He’d barely gotten his burger open when Brent hung over the seat back.

 

“Hensley. Tell Rog how that quarterback almost caught you.”

 

“Come on, Brent, he didn’t.”

 

“You were runnin’ for your life,” Brent said.

 

Roger, Diego and Marcus all laughed.

 

Roger swung a leg out into the aisle and came around to face him. “I was behind him the whole way. Sophomore finally stayed home where I told him to and gets the pick of the night.”

 

Ty grinned. “I read that pass all the way. Took it clean from him.”

 

“That’s because you were finally where you were supposed to be.”

 

Marcus Gaines looked up from his tray. “You have to tell him where to be each play?”

 

“Heck yeah I did,” Roger said.

 

Ty swallowed what he had. “No. I knew where I was supposed to be.”

 

For the next twenty minutes the interception got longer every time somebody told it. By the third telling he’d run eighty yards. By the fourth he’d broken three tackles and the quarterback had two hands on his jersey.

 

“None of that happened.”

 

“I was right there,” Roger said.

 

“You were sixty yards away.”

 

“Details.”

 

The door opened and two girls came in. Ty knew the one in front. Everybody knew her.

 

Brent quit talking in the middle of what he was saying.

 

Kim Thiel got in line with her friend and didn’t look over.

 

Marcus took a long pull off his Coke and set it down. “He did score more than you tonight.”

 

“Whose side you on?” Roger said.

 

“Scoreboard’s.”

 

Brent spoke before Roger could answer. “Speakin’ of things Rog lost…”

 

“Don’t even start, Ashford,” Roger said.

 

Brent rapped on the table top. “Dana’s got second lunch with Kim’s cousin and said she’s bringin’ Edna tomorrow night.”

 

Diego Alaniz quit talking with his mouth open. Somebody’s straw kept going in the bottom of a cup and then stopped.

 

“Bringin’ who?” Diego said.

 

“Some dude from Edna she’s hookin’ up with,” Brent said.

 

“To our homecoming?” Diego said. “Man, get outta here.”

 

“Yep, that’s what she told her.” Brent pointed at Kim still ordering.

 

Roger had a fry in his hand and he put it down without eating it. “Well, she’s free to bring whoever she wants.”

 

“Oh, that’s real big of you, Rog,” Diego said.

 

“Who the heck cares. She can do whatever she wants.” Roger’s eyes trailed across the restaurant, then back at his tray. “She’s done this. Y’all seen her do this.”

 

Ty twisted the other way to see Kim and her friend sit at a booth on the other side.

 

Brent held both hands up. “All right, dude. You ain’t got to get your panties in a wad.”

 

For about three seconds nobody at either booth said anything. Ty turned back around far enough to see it. Roger had his jaw set and his eyes somewhere past the register. Brent started eating again.

 

Marcus said it flat. “She dumped you in August, Rog.”

 

Roger’s head came around.

 

Ty had never seen his face do that. It just went still, the way a dog goes still. He held it on Marcus long enough that the junior sitting next to Ty quit chewing.

 

Then Roger grinned. He wadded up a napkin and threw it at him.

 

“Eat your fries, Gaines.”

 

Brent laughed. Diego said something about Dana that Ty didn’t catch. Then he was back on the interception, swearing the quarterback had gotten two hands on Ty’s jersey. Ty was arguing about it with his mouth full.

 

Marcus didn’t say anything else the rest of the night.

 

Then Roger got up.

 

He didn’t say he was going anywhere. He came out of the booth and went down the aisle with his hands in the pockets of his blue and white letterman jacket. Fleming covered the back in bold letters. Roger had several award patches down the arm.

 

Roger was walking to the girls who were in a booth on the other side, by the window.

 

Ty turned around in the seat.

 

Roger stopped at the end of their booth. Ty couldn’t hear any of it. Their conversation was muffled. The junior beside him was telling somebody about a hold that didn’t get called in the third quarter.

 

Ty grabbed some fries and dipped them in the ketchup. He missed the first time.

 

Kim looked up at Roger and then back at her friend.

 

Roger said something else. He still had both hands in his pockets, but his elbows moved.

 

Kim said something short.

 

Then she turned all the way back around to her friend and started talking again. Roger stood there.

 

Ty put the fries in his mouth and bit.

 

Kim didn’t look again. She just kept talking.

 

Roger turned and came back up the aisle. The look on his face was not happy. He didn’t sit down.

 

“Let’s go.”

 

“We ain’t done,” Brent said. “I still got half a burger.”

 

“I said, let’s go.”

 

Trays got stacked wrong. Somebody knocked a cup over going for his jacket. The manager who’d been giving them the eye for half an hour watched them do all of it and didn’t say a word.

 

At the door Ty looked back.

 

Kim had her elbows on the table, laughing at something her friend said. She never once looked at the door.

 

Out in the lot Roger pulled his keys and pointed them at Ty across the hood.

 

Marcus got in his own car. Brent and Diego got in the cab and pulled the door shut. Two of the juniors climbed into the bed ahead of Ty. Ty put a hand on the rail and swung himself over. The metal was cold through his jeans and colder once they got moving. He sat up against the cab with his bag under his arm and the wind coming over the top of it.

 

Best night he’d ever had.