They backed up to the new scrimmage line and settled into their stances once again. This time, he actually made it to the end of the count, and the center snapped the ball into his waiting hands.
It felt good. Perfect. He really only belonged in one place, and the weight of the ball against his palm felt a bit like coming home. He hurried back, turned to protect his chest from the rushing safety, and planted the ball in Gates’s waiting arms. He barely released it before he hit the ground, and he knew Gates wouldn’t have enough room to make up twenty-one yards. Only a handful of seconds later, Gates rolled to the grass, ball still protected against his chest. By the time everybody found their feet again, the scoreboard announced third down with eighteen yards to go. Through the speaker in
