The loss to McRae had cut deep. The jokes. The embarrassment. The fight. The whispers in the school hallways. But it also did something else: It woke the King football team up. They spent the next four weeks playing like a team possessed. They blasted Longfellow. They handled Sibley. They shut down a tough Lyndale Park team. And then, in a game nobody expected them to win, they got a 22–12 victory over LARC Big Green. LARC Big Green, did that name ever fit. Boy were they big. They had been the preseason favorite to win the division. Everybody said King didn’t have a chance. But King punched them in the mouth early and never let up.
By the end of the season, the standings were clear: McRae and King were tied at 6 wins, and 1 loss each. McRae’s only loss came when they were steam rolled by LARC, the team King had handled solidly. The King players got a quite a kick out of seeing LARC roll over McRae. Now though, it was playoff time. King and McRae in the first round.
Derrick hoped that the outcome this time would be different.
Game night was cold and windy. It was one of those late October evenings in Minnesota where the cold cut right through jackets. The field lights at Pearl Park buzzed overhead. Fans wrapped blankets around themselves. The boys warmed their hands by sticking them in their pants. Their breath rose in white clouds. Derrick could see his breath every time he exhaled. So could Marcus, Reggie, Leon, Tony, and Loco. Johnny was quiet as always, but locked in.
The two teams passed each other momentarily, as McRae walked to the other side of the field. Rusty called out to Johnny. “I got you Johnny.” He said. Rusty was McRae’s nose guard, and Johnny played center on offense and nose guard on defense, so they would be going head up against each other. Johnny just looked solemnly at Rusty and slowly nodded his head, as to say, “Bring it.”
McRae took their place across the field in their dark green jerseys, with the lettering, MARC on the front-McRae Athletic Recreational Center. They looked focused. No trash talk. No laughs. This wasn’t a regular game. This was the playoff game. The one that mattered. The one for all the marbles. Win, or go home.
The game began, and McRae came out swinging. Three plays. Touchdown. Two-point conversion. 8–0. King punted. McRae drove again. Another touchdown. Another two point conversion. 16–0. The cold got heavier. King’s fans got quieter. The King sideline felt tense. Coach Jimmy paced like a madman.
“We are NOT doing this again!” he shouted. “Wake UP!”
Derrick clenched his fists.
“We ain’t going out like that,” he muttered.
Marcus nodded.
“No way.”
Something finally clicked. King’s defense tightened. Stops. Hits. Swarm tackles. Then the offense woke up. Tony broke a long run. Derrick pancaked a defender. Leon snatched a big catch. Loco bulldozed defenders. Reggie caught a huge third-down pass. And then— A misdirection sweep. Loco faked up the middle. Leon took the ball and headed to the right. Then he flipped the ball to Tony heading to the left. Tony took the reverse around the edge. He broke one tackle. Then another. TOUCHDOWN. The sideline erupted. 16–6. They lined up for the two-point try. Hand-off to Loco. He powered through three defenders. 16–8. And just like that— We have ourselves a football game.
Late in the fourth quarter. Time was winding down. The cold made the ball feel like ice. Hands were numb. Breaths came out in clouds. McRae punted with only a couple minutes left. King took over near midfield. And the drive of the season began. Tony off-tackle — 8 yards. Loco up the middle — 4 yards. Leon on a quick slant over the middle — 12 yards. The crowd was on its feet. King moved inside the McRae 35-yard line. Marcus whispered,
“We got this.”
Reggie breathed hard.
“Just keep pushing…”
Johnny grunted through his facemask,
“One play at a time.”
Derrick locked in. Everything felt slow-motion. Coaches Jimmy and Stuart both were yelling:
“RUN IT AGAIN! RUN IT AGAIN!”
The boys lined up. The cold wind hit harder. Loco for eleven yards. The ball is now on McRae’s 24 years line. The play was called in the huddle.
“KC Special on two. KC Special on two.”
The KC Special was a play named after a play the Kansas City Chiefs ran, where there were three receivers on one side, and one receiver on the other. The defense was usually concerned about the three receivers on the one side, so the receiver on the other side was usually able to get open.
It worked like a charm. Leon for the touchdown. Score: 16-14.
Now the two point conversion to tie the game.
Loco up the middle.
Loco took the hand-off and hit the hole.
BAM!
The McRae defense tightened and stopped Loco about an inch from the goal line.
Score 16-14.
Only a few seconds left in the game. King tried an onside kick, and recovered the ball, but the ref blew the whistle. Game over. Final score: McRae 16, King 14.
The dream was over. Just like that.
There were no fights this time. Only handshakes, hand slaps and “Good game” acknowledgements, as the teams did the customary after game line-up, showing good sportsmanship. Both teams were exhausted. McRae’s players raised their helmets and jogged toward their sideline, cheering. King players stayed kneeling, catching their breath. Coach Jimmy walked slowly to the boys. He didn’t yell. He didn’t fuss. He didn’t lecture. He just took a knee with them.
“Y’all keep your heads up! You played your hearts out,” he said softly. “That’s all I could ask.”
Marcus blinked hard. Tony wiped his eyes. Leon stared at the ground. Reggie pulled grass repeatedly from the field. Johnny placed a quiet hand on Derrick’s shoulder.
“We may have lost,” he said. “but we played today. We didn’t give up.”
Derrick nodded—but his chest hurt. It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t embarrassment. It was something deeper. It was the pain of caring. The pain of realizing this season was…..over.
After arriving back at King, the crew walked slowly along 40th Street toward Oakland. Breath fogging in the cold. Pads heavy in their hands. But together. Always together. Tony broke the silence first.
“We almost had them.”
Marcus nodded.
“Yeah. One more minute.”
Leon sighed.
“It is what it is.”
Reggie kicked a rock.
“Man… I wanted that one.”
Derrick looked up at the night sky, the cold wind brushing past him.
“We’ll remember this,” he said quietly. “All of it. The good and the bad.”
Johnny, walking behind them, added:
“And we should. ’Cause we played like men today.”
“We played like the Minnesota Vikings.” Tony added.
“And McRae played like the Kansas City Chiefs.” Tony smirked.
They kept walking. No bragging. No excuses. No tears. Just a deep, shared respect. It wasn’t the ending they wanted. But it was a season worth remembering. And deep inside? They knew: This was just one chapter. Bigger things were coming. High school. Growing up. Life. But for now, they had each other. And that was enough.
