Chapter 54: Outmuscled

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Alberto began taking Nolan seriously.

On Santa Ana’s sideline, the Saints’ core players had seen the same thing. Nolan Callahan had thrown that ball while falling backward, with his balance gone and Alberto crashing into him.

"Eric," Roberto Garcia said, "could you make that throw in that position?"

On the surface, asking his quarterback that question sounded stupid. But the four Santa Ana stars had grown up in the same neighborhood. Their bond had gone far beyond ordinary teammates, so they could speak directly.

Eric Barrera gave a pale smile.

"Of course."

The others relaxed.

Then Eric added, "If I tried it a hundred times, maybe ten would look like that."

He looked across the field at number 9 and licked his lips.

"He has been hiding a lot."

Excitement, not fear, crossed his face.

"First time in Southern California I have seen someone like this."

The game resumed.

Thanks to Nolan’s off-balance throw, the Normans had reached Santa Ana’s 35-yard line.

On first down, Nolan repeated the backfield disguise. The running back sold protection. Nolan opened his hips, began to load, and looked ready to throw.

The ball never flew.

By the time everyone searched for it downfield, Nolan had tucked it and taken off.

He borrowed Monst’s road-grader charge, driving straight into the traffic at the line. That approach worked against weaker teams. Against Santa Ana, bodies closed from every side. Nolan had no lane, so he lunged forward with the ball and went down hard.

"First down, Normans!"

Ten yards.

BHHS reached the 25, close enough to threaten points.

On first down in scoring range, every route was covered. Nolan found nothing, and the pocket collapsed. Several defenders swallowed him for the sack.

It was not the first time the protection had failed.

On second down, the same weakness showed again. The line could not hold. Before the pocket fully broke, Nolan found the seam he wanted, twisted from a standstill, and threw a quick mid-height ball with the economy of a gunslinger drawing from the hip.

At the same time, Flea used two sudden cuts to make the cornerback on him stumble.

Flea jumped, opened one arm, and plucked the ball out of the air one-handed.

He landed in the end zone.

The whistle blew.

"Touchdown!"

"That was a brilliant strike," the home announcer said. "There were complications, but the Normans needed only four snaps and one minute, fifty seconds to score the game’s first touchdown."

"It reminds me of Montana’s ninety-two-yard drive in Super Bowl XXIII," Roy Feldman said.

"The John Candy drive?"

Five years earlier, Joe Montana had pointed out comedian John Candy in the stands before leading the 49ers downfield from their own eight-yard line. The little moment became legend because the drive ended with a game-winning touchdown.

Nobody forgot Montana’s calm that night.

Nolan’s poise under pressure carried a faint echo of it.

"Beautiful throw, Nolan."

"One minute, fifty seconds. We can beat them."

"That touchdown was clean."

Thomas chose the extra point. As the offense came off, each player slapped Nolan’s hand.

The opening drive had settled the Normans.

Nolan did not let himself relax.

It was the beginning of the game. Neither side had fully adjusted yet. More importantly, BHHS’s weakness had already shown.

That weakness would matter.

On the sideline, Nolan removed his helmet and saw Sarah shaking her pom-poms in the distance.

She saw him too.

"Hmph."

She turned her face away with theatrical speed.

Nolan looked toward the stands. Nobody was buying food or drinks. Even the volunteers were lined against the rail, watching the game instead of selling.

He understood. The game had just begun. With pauses, stoppages, and halftime, a football game could run two and a half to three and a half hours. Most sales would come later.

Mark put the extra point through.

BHHS led Santa Ana, 7-0.

Mark kicked off, and the special teams unit brought the returner down before Santa Ana could break anything open.

When the Saints’ offense took the field, Nolan stood beside Thomas and watched with a focus very different from the Burbank game.

Santa Ana lined up in a compact shotgun set, with the running back tucked behind Eric. It offered balance between pass and run, but it demanded timing. Thomas had made BHHS experiment with similar looks before, without ideal results.

Santa Ana had no such problem.

The snap came. Several players crossed through the backfield. Roberto pulled two defenders with him, and the tight end slipped into space. Eric found him immediately, and Santa Ana took ten yards and a first down.

A tight end was a hybrid position, part blocker, part receiver. He could help build the pocket, seal lanes for the running back, or release through the middle and punish a defense that forgot him.

BHHS did not have that option. Their starting tight end had torn an ACL and would not return until the next school term. Thomas had been using two wide receivers and treating the backup tight end mostly as an extra blocker.

Santa Ana began the next play from the BHHS 45.

Roberto took a sweep toward the outside. The strong-side linebacker saw it and angled to cut him off.

The linebacker had the shorter path.

It did not matter.

Roberto simply outran him around the edge, turning the corner as if the defender were standing still. The cornerback closer to him tried to step up, but a wide receiver sealed him. Only a safety coming from distance kept Roberto from scoring.

Santa Ana had reached the 15.

In scoring range, they attacked the middle.

The offensive line blasted open the front, and Eric kept the ball himself for the touchdown.

"Santa Ana’s answer comes even faster than Beverly Hills’ opening drive," the host said with a strained laugh. "That drive took barely a minute and a half."

"BHHS is behind physically," Feldman said. "That is the problem nobody can ignore."

Football had three pillars: speed, strength, and scheme.

Scheme raised the ceiling.

Speed and strength built the floor.

It was like playing a strategy game with a smaller army. Perfect control could help, but numbers still mattered. BHHS did not even have a clear scheme advantage over Santa Ana.

That was why Thomas had believed this matchup would be so hard to win.

Nolan noticed Santa Ana’s coaches talking on the sideline. Their players looked loose.

As he expected, the Saints went for two.

They had already found the Normans’ weak point.

This game was going to get harder.

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