The play was a scissors pattern that had Ricci crossing midfield. His eyes were on Meyer as he ran, but out of his peripheral vision he saw a linebacker bearing down on him. Slightly altering his course, he went on the inside of the umpire, causing the linebacker to plow over the unsuspecting official and send both of them sprawling. Three steps later Meyer had the ball in Ricci’s hand. Ricci looked downfield only to see three very large black-shirted Bandits in his path. He juked past the first defender, but the next two sandwiched him between their foul-smelling jerseys and brought him to the ground.

The hit was jarring, but what really hurt was the thumb jab in the trachea, courtesy of one of the Bandits lying on top of him. Ricci got up coughing but tried his best not to let the pain show. Trotting back to his own side of scrimmage, he picked at the turf lodged in his helmet, while calls of “good job” and “nice catch” from his teammates surrounded him.

The pain in Ricci’s throat was starting to subside as he leaned into the huddle.

“Nice pattern, Reech,” Meyer said. “Way to use the umpire as a pick.”

“If he’s in the field of play…” Ricci laughed.

“Okay, good start. Let’s keep it going!” Meyer continued. “West Right Tiger Left Nineteen Handoff Release! Break!”

Ricci’s brain quickly deciphered the code. The Tiger Left package meant there would be two tight ends. Sure enough, Fuchs, the second tight end, was quickly stepping to the left side of the line with him. Fuchs placed himself just off the left tackle, and Ricci stood behind him. Ricci’s role was to motion right. If he saw that the linebacker read the handoff and was on the ball, he would take him out. If not, he would block the first man he came to.

Meyer started the call, and Ricci began moving; then everything burst into activity. Ricci saw the linebacker racing to the point where the handoff would be made. Ricci launched himself at the Bandit’s upper body, but the defender was anticipating him and rolled off the block. Ricci went down, then heard the crack of linebacker forcibly meeting with halfback. That quickly, he went from hero to goat. When Ricci jogged toward the sidelines for the third down play, Coach Burton was waiting to tell him what he thought of his blocking skills.

When Ricci finally made it past the head coach, the tight ends coach was waiting to give the second chorus to Burton’s song. That lasted another full minute, until mercifully, the Mustangs got a first down, and Ricci escaped back onto the field.

The next five plays netted thirty-four yards and two first downs. It was second and fifteen after a dropped pass and a false-start penalty. As Ricci got set on the line of scrimmage, he knew the ball was coming his way. Here was his chance to redeem himself. Gorkowski snapped the ball, and Randy Meyer dropped two steps back and threw a rocket right at Ricci. The tight end reached for the pass, but the ball bounced off his numbers. The defending cornerback was there, ready to make the tackle, but when the ball popped up, he caught the deflection instead and ran it back for a touchdown. The extra-point try soared between the uprights, and just like that, the Bandits were up 14-0.

Ricci looked toward the sidelines and saw Coach Burton staring right at him. There was no place to run, no place to hide. He knew that whatever Burton was going to say to him was exactly what tens of thousands of people were this very moment shouting at him through their television sets. He took a deep breath, then ran to face the music.

Riley Covington knew the Mustangs desperately needed this game. At 9-5, their play-off chances were touch and go. It was one of those “you control your own destiny” moments. If the Mustangs lost here, there would only be one last meaningless game before their off-season.

The game had gone back and forth through the rest of the first three quarters. Neither team had been able to do much with the ball, but the Mustangs had slowly built up 10 points to make the score 14-10. Now, with three minutes to go in the fourth quarter, the Bandits had the ball and were trying to eat up the clock. One more first down would effectively end the game.

It was third down and seven. The quarterback took the snap. He dropped back and prepared to pass. Riley was blitzing up the middle when he realized that the QB was going to throw a screen pass to the fullback. Digging his cleats into the turf, Riley stopped his forward progress and began backpedaling as quickly as he could. When the quarterback released the ball, Riley was off balance, but he still managed to leap backward and snag the tip of the ball with his finger. The ball deflected enough to miss the fullback and drop into the arms of Mustangs safety Danie Colson. Colson raced down the field and high-stepped it into the end zone. He spun the ball on the ground and did his famous “hoodaman” dance around it-a celebration perfectly timed at just under five seconds to avoid the unsportsmanlike conduct call. By the time he finished his dance, his teammates were on top of him. He waded through the group until he found Riley and gave him a bone-crushing hug.

Coach Burton met Riley and Colson as they were coming off the field. Colson still had the ball in his hands. Burton had almost lost his voice from screaming all afternoon. “I told you guys,” he croaked. “I told you. Just be patient and they’ll make a mistake. They’re the Bandits; that’s what they do.”

Girchwood slammed in the extra point, taking the last gasp out of the Bandits faithful. Now at least half of the continuous stream of verbal abuse was directed against their own team. The Bandits had one more chance but couldn’t get anything going against the swarming Mustangs defense. They went four and out, and the Mustangs kneeled out the rest of the time.

The media rushed onto the field with their microphones, cameras, and tape recorders as the players went out to meet each other. Despite the rivalry, most of the guys congratulated each other and wished the opposing players well. Riley joined a small group made up of both Bandits and Mustangs at the 50 yard line for a postgame prayer. The Bandits chaplain thanked God for protecting the players, while reporters and cameramen waited impatiently. When the prayer was complete, Riley was instantly assaulted with cameras and microphones stuck right in his face. He tried to keep a smile and answer some questions, but he was exhausted.

When Robert Taylor saw what was happening, he quickly jumped into the mix. “Riley’s gotta go. Sorry, fellas,” Taylor said.

Taylor kept his arm around Riley as they both jogged off the field. When they entered the tunnel, some Bandits fans took their parting shots at the Covington family tree. Police were standing nearby to make sure that it was only words pelting the players. Riley smirked at Taylor after one particularly foul insult. “If my mama really did that, I don’t think Daddy’d be too happy.”

They walked through the double doors and into the visitors’ locker room. Many of the guys were hugging each other and giving high fives. The coaches and the management were walking from locker to locker, congratulating everyone. Riley went up to give Ricci a quick hug, but Ricci just held up his fist for Riley to tap with his own and said, “Good game, Pach,” then turned back to his locker.

Coach Burton called the team together for his postgame speech. “Men, I’m proud of your effort. It’s tough to go into someone else’s backyard and come out with a win. My hat’s off to you today. One more and we’re in the play-offs. Enjoy your day off tomorrow.”

At that pronouncement, the team cheered. Often a football player’s Monday had a lot to do with the team’s Sunday. A victory meant a day off from practice with only a required workout. A defeat meant a workout, two and a half hours of unpleasant meetings, then ten back-to-back hundred-yard sprints for the whole team.