Blind Side

The State Championship game was a nightmare.

Eastton High was playing the Westview Spartans, the defending champions. The Spartans ran a complex, shifting defense that disguised their coverages until the last second.

Without Iris’s cheat sheet, Caleb was blind.

First Quarter: Caleb was sacked three times. He held the ball too long, waiting for a receiver to come open, unable to anticipate the pressure.

Second Quarter: Caleb threw an interception. He misread a zone blitz as man coverage.

By halftime, the score was 21-7. Eastton was getting crushed.

The locker room at halftime was a morgue. The coach was screaming, drawing frantic lines on the whiteboard.

Caleb sat in his stall, staring at his cleats. His head was ringing.

"Hart!" Coach Miller yelled. "What is going on out there? You're playing like you've never seen a football before! What’s the read on the weak side?"

Caleb looked at the board. The X’s and O’s swam before his eyes. It was just noise.

He realized then that he wasn't the Commander. He wasn't a genius. He was just a boy who had borrowed someone else's brilliance and then smashed it on the floor to look cool in front of a bunch of guys who wouldn't remember his name in five years.

He felt a physical ache in his chest that had nothing to do with the sacks he’d taken. It was regret. Heavy, suffocating regret.

"I can't do this," Caleb whispered.

"What did you say?" Coach Miller barked.

Caleb stood up. He grabbed his helmet.

"I can't do this," he said louder. "Not like this."

"Sit down, Hart!" the Coach roared. "We have a half to play!"

"You play it," Caleb said. He turned and ran.

He ran out of the locker room. He didn't run to the field. He ran up the concrete tunnel, past the concession stands, past the confused parents.

He ran up the spiraling ramp to the top of the stadium.

He reached the black door of the AV booth. He pounded on it with his fist.

"Iris! Iris, open up!"

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