Wyatt

The day we've been training for all season is here, and nervous doesn't even begin to describe the array of emotions flooding the locker room.

The North High Raiders are gathered in the Dallas Cowboy's locker room, having won the coin toss and been selected as the official home team for the upcoming game. We're wearing our home jerseys, clad in navy and maroon from head to toe. Our school's booster club even pitched in to buy us State Championship patches, sewn on the shoulders of our jerseys.

All around me, the excitement and anxiety are palpable, with some of the players handling the pressure better than others. I've seen a few tears, heard a few terse words, and seen more fist bumps and high fives than I can count. It's manic.

In less than twenty minutes, we'll be taking the field to face the Galveston Giants, and lemme tell you, their team name is no coincidence. These guys are enormous, and from all accounts, agile and strong. Here's hoping that this assessment is due more to poor competition along their way, rather than any real skill on their part.

Don't get me wrong. I know I sound pessimistic, but I have no doubt that we belong here. We've earned this, having had an unstoppable year. Only one loss to our names this season, and that game was stolen from us by the poor officiating.

Nah, this game is ours. It feels like fate.

"Ready, brother?" Nash asks. I smile when he pulls me into a half hug, knowing he's thinking the same thing I am: this is our last game together. Over a decade of peewee's, junior high, and high school ball with my sidekick, and this is the end.

"Hey," Ari grunts, making his way toward us. "Don't forget about me." He throws his arms around Nash's and my shoulders. "Damn, this kind of sucks."

"You gonna cry Aurelius?" Nash prods, even though, truth be told, we're all a little nostalgic today.

"Ha, ha, Nash," he intones. "Seriously though, we better make this one hell of a game."

"Oh, it's on," I say. "We're kicking some Giant ass today."

"To kicking Giant asses!" Ari shouts, and the cheers and laughter that follow are deafening, the humor of the statement not lost on anybody, despite our crippling nerves.

And just like that, out of nowhere, the anxiety is gone, making way for our intensely competitive spirits to thrive. Leave it to Ari.

"Alright boys, simmer down," Coach Castillo calls over the chaos. He takes a deep breath, and I see the pent-up emotions all over his face. This game must be hard on him too, as it's the last time he'll be coaching his son.

"You boys have done me proud this season," Coach continues. "I couldn't have asked for a better team or a better dynamic. This team is something special, I think we all know that." He sniffles, but plays it off as a cough. "Bring it in."

We all press in toward Coach Castillo and the rest of the staff, taking a knee and joining hands. We bow our heads, knowing what comes next.

"Lord, I thank you for bringing us here today, and for each one of these outstanding players," Coach Castillo states quietly. "Please keep both teams injury free and healthy. We pray for the game of our lives today. Oh, Lord, that you would see fit for us to triumph today, beating their Giant asses. Amen!"

"Amen!" we shout in unison.

"Hit the field boys!" Coach yells.

We rise, pouring through the tunnel with a matchless energy, ready to take on the mission at hand.

This day is ours.

...

It's the best game of our lives. Calling it a blowout doesn't do it justice.

Our defense is a literal brick wall, holding the Giants total offense to fewer than one hundred yards and zero points. We're aiming for a shutout—it would be our first all year, and the odds look pretty good with only two minutes and counting.

On the other side of the ball, our offense is explosive. Nash is like a bulldozer, running over everything that steps into his path. Ari has a touchdown and the phone number of one of the Giant's cheerleaders.

And Cole. Damn.

Cole is like a man on fire. He's rushed and passed for quadruple the yards the Giants have achieved in total.

The two of us have connected more than a dozen times already. I've got over one hundred receiving yards and two touchdowns under my belt. In actuality, becoming buddies with Cole was one of the best things we ever could've done for the team.

"Right side fly route, blue on five," Cole says when we huddle. "Let's put this baby away for good. It's been a helluva ride, gentlemen."

Indeed, it has. We throw our hands into the circle, and I take a lingering look at the eager faces of my teammates, who I notice, with a bit of amusement, are doing the same thing.

This is it. My final play as a Raider.

Hell, if it don't sting.

"One, two, three, Raiders!" we roar as one.

The crowd, or at least the half of the stadium that's here for us, erupts. I scan the sidelines as I jog away from the huddle. Coach Castillo's alight with the pleasure of an impending victory. The cheer squad has given up any pretense of uniformity, the girls absolutely wild with enthusiasm.

When my gaze lands on Colby, the pride on her face takes my breath away. Her glistening eyes meet mine, and I realize she knows precisely what this moment means to me. She blows a kiss my way.

How on God's green earth did I get lucky enough to make her mine?

"Let's do this shit," Nash yells, clapping his hands and snapping me out of my reverie.

We line up, and Grant Hurley snaps the ball to Cole. I find my target in the form of a hefty lineman, throwing the entirety of my weight into my block and digging my cleats into the turf for leverage. Cole whizzes by, ball in hand, en route to the end zone.

He's in.

The sideline bursts at the seams, the coaching staff, cheer squad, and all of my teammates flooding the field as the game clock hits zero. It's chaos. I'm swallowed by Raider nation, the pandemonium and excitement of our victory pressing in on me.

"Wyatt," Coach says, appearing from out of nowhere. He clasps my hand and tugs me close for a hearty hug. "Good man. You had a hell of a game son. I'm proud of you." He pats me on the back, moving on to the next guy before he gets too gooey. Deep down I know he's a soft touch, and his words hit me right in the feels. He's been like a father to me.

"Babe!" Colby cries. She struggles toward me through all of the warm bodies, throwing herself into my arms, right where she belongs. "Sweet Moses, what a game!" Her lips crash down on mine, reminding me that we've already achieved the most important victory—becoming one again.

"Ew, B, get off of Wyatt's face," Luke groans. I dunno how he and my mother located me in the midst of all this humanity, but I'm glad they're here. Colby steps aside, and I'm enveloped by the enthusiastic arms of my mom and Luke.

"Your father would be bustin' with pride right about now," Mom utters into my ear. "You've done us both right proud, son." She's sniffling, and suddenly my eyes are damp.

Hell.

What is it about mothers?

"Thanks, Mom," I say, giving her another good squeeze.

"Luke and I are headed home," she adds, swiping a tear from beneath her eye. "He wants to get back to his mama, but you and Colby stay. Please, enjoy this moment, baby." She throws a watery smile my way before guiding a waving Luke away by the shoulder.

Colby tucks herself into my side, and we make the rounds, greeting teammates and celebrating our success. The win is everything I'd hoped for, but it's made so much sweeter by the way we achieved it. Never before has the team worked together so flawlessly. It was a forty-eight to nothing drubbing I will never forget.

"Wyatt!" Cole shouts, waving B and me toward himself and Wynn. They stand with a man I've never seen before, Cole grinning from ear to ear. "I want you to meet Brantley Gordon, football scout for Texas A&M."

I release a sharp breath, my heart rate picking up speed as we approach. I guess I knew there would be scouts here, but I was too busy thinking about the game to be worried about what they were seeing.

"Wyatt Matheson," Mr. Gordon greets, shaking my extended hand. "Pleasure to meet you."

"You too, sir," I say, my pulse hammering so hard I hear it in my ears.

"Listen, I'm not gonna beat around the bush here," he continues. "We want you and Cole next year. There's a full ride in it if you agree."

"Come again?" I say, certain I can't have heard him right.

He laughs. "You and Cole are a helluva duo, son. Come play for A&M, and your education is paid for."

Colby squeezes my arm, a tear escaping her eye when she smiles up at me. "Do it, babe," she whispers.

"I'd love nothing more, sir," I say.

"We'll be lucky to have the both of you," Mr. Gordon says, giving my hand another firm shake. "I'll be in touch with your coach, and we'll arrange for you to sign. Welcome aboard boys!" He nods, making his way into the sea of maroon and navy, off on another mission.

"Did that just happen?" I huff in disbelief.

"Hell yeah, brother!" Cole bellows. "We're gonna light up division one football together. It's a good thing we made nice."

I laugh, shaking my head. This day feels like a dream or a fantasy.

Only it's real.

...

We're about thirty pizzas into our victory party, gathered at a local pizza joint just outside of Arlington. The team's all here, along with many friends and family members that decided to stay for the celebration before our departure for home tomorrow.

"S'cuse me," Coach booms, calling our attention to the front of the restaurant. "I'd like to hand the floor over to your team captain. I think a toast is in order." He gestures toward the table that Colby, my friends and I share with Cole and Wynn.

Cole rises to his feet. "I can't believe we just played our final game," he begins, his words being met with nods of ascent. "It's crazy to think that we won't be doing any more of Coach's dreaded drills."

With that, laughter fills the room, as everyone knows Coach Castillo's drills are a special brand of torture. That right there is a relief I hadn't given any thought to yet.

"I wanna say thanks to Coach, and all of my teammates," Cole continues. "I think it's safe to say this is a season none of us will ever forget. It's a particularly memorable season for me. The truth is, I wouldn't have had the game I had today without the help of Mrs. Galloway—"

...Mrs. Galloway? His mama's not here, but...

"My wife."

Shit!

Cole turns to his left, extending a hand to Wynona, who takes it with a smile that could light the darkest of caverns. She stands, and he wraps his arms around his bride.

Yep. His bride.

Gasps of shock arise alongside hoots and hollers of amusement.

Cole kisses Wynn's cheek and then whispers something in her ear that makes her blush.

Wynn doesn't blush.

They return to their seats, having shocked those gathered here into an utter stupor.

Next to me, Colby breaks out into a fit of giggles that can be heard all throughout the now quiet restaurant.

"Well, aren't you two full of surprises!" Colby chirps, detonating the tension bomb dropped by Cole.

Damn. What a night.