Whompyjawed: a Novel by Mitch Cullin

Author:Mitch Cullin
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781453293966
Publisher: The Permanent Press

SLOW-MOTIONED AND BLINDSIDED

Something about playing football in a storm gets me all crazy in a good way. And playing at night with a storm is even better. But not tonight. There was this high, yowling wind pushing sand and dried grass and crumpled drink cups across the field. The bleachers was packed. Everybody was bundled up. It was so cold that the cheerleaders from both Claude and Lefors had sweat pants and sweat shirts on. It was like that wind was so mean that when a fellow tried running against it, never mind how fast he was going, he’d still think he wasn’t hardly moving at all.

Anyway, no one scored during the first quarter. Us and the Leopards from Lefors just bumped around in that filthy weather not doing much of anything at all. In fact, I’d say the first quarter was downright dull. But then things started kicking in by the start of the second quarter. That’s when we attempted a sweep to the right. I carried the ball just a couple of yards before getting clobbered in a cloud of dust. Then Sammy broke a pass pattern, fumbled the ball and lost it. After that, the Leopards did a sneaky little play, gaining a few yards on us. And the whole time Coach Bud paced around nervously on the sidelines. Every now and then I heard him shout, “Come on!” Or, “Get after it!” And Effie from Lefors appeared like a statue on his side. He kept his arms folded. He chewed this huge hunk of gum in that big dumb face of his.

Finally, we got the ball again and tried a favorite play, but I gained only a couple of yards before them Leopards heaped over me. And each time I trudged on into the huddle, my face was dirtier and stickier with my own swelter, and the rest of the guys kept complaining on how them Leopards was tripping and grabbing and holding. I mean, more than twice Coach Bud jerked his head all angry as hell, yelling something at Effie like, “You’re playing nasty, goddammit,” though it mostly got swallowed in the wind.

And this is how it happened, or at least how I think it happened—

Lee handed me the ball, and I cradled it in my arms as I leaned into the line. Suddenly, I was past the line and gaining yards, even though that bitter breeze had me slowed to almost nothing. But I just knew I was in the clear. But I wasn’t. BAM! I got nailed in the ribs by a cornerback. So I stumbled a little, broke the tackle, and shook him to the grass. I juked to the left and then cut to the right. Then BAM! Somebody from nowhere just laid into me like a ton of bricks. But I was driving ahead. My legs was still going. That second sonofabitch hung on my ass. He was doing his damnedest to topple me. But I was standing and dragging myself forward.

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