Chapter 1
#1 of 4th and Inches
HEY. Hey read this.
This is the first chapter of something I've had in my head for a while as a series. I just wanted to post it here and see if I got enough interest to keep it going. Please leave comments and feedback... I have no way to know if you want to see more without it.
Thanks, and I hope you enjoy it.
Seeeeeeeeeeet... HUT! HUT!
Shotgun formation. The snap fired from the center's paws into the quarterback's. Green jerseys formed a wall, a tight end and a fullback picked up blitzing linebackers. The squirrel had all the time he needed.
4th and goal from the 20 yard line. Two stuffed runs, a false start penalty and a sack had gotten them in this position. He looked left, spotting his trusted wideout waving his arm high in the air. In one fluid motion, the ball was gone from his hand, flying in a perfect spiral, cutting through the air. A shock through his system as he's decked by a lineman who slipped through his guards, but his eyes stay open, fixed upon the end zone.
The rabbit jumped up in the air, snagging the ball. Landing on the ground, he juked to one side, dodging the cornerback's tackle, stiffarming the safety who'd closed in on him. He broke into a run, three yards to go, one second, zero seconds as he dove, taking a hit as he leapt. Arms outstretched, the ball broke the plane of the end zone.
Touchdown.
The stadium wasn't exactly the biggest in college football, but a broken capacity of thirty thousand half raised their fists and half wailed in dismay. The scoreboard changed to display 33 to 27. After four quarters of regulation, Franklin State had beaten Wright College in the Liberty Bowl.
The crunch of pads slamming against each other resounded, and the crowd roared. With that tackle, Toledo had secured their 4th quarter lead. With 5 seconds left on the clock and the opponent out of time outs, the crowd of 115,000 and change erupted, and a roar bellowed from the chest of the bear who had just recorded his school record seventh sack of the game. The final score was 14 to 13, and Toledo had won the national championships for the third year in a row.
He swore he'd gone deaf at that instant. Teammates that had crowded in the huddle lost their voices, the crowd who'd raised to their feet had suddenly gone silent. He didn't know if he was hearing his heartbeat or feeling it reverberate through his entire body. The holder crouched at the forty-six yard line and casted a glance back to the snow leopard, who simply nodded back. The silent count happened in his head. As linemen stood up and blocked for him, the ball was snapped to the holder, who placed it laces away, point into the ground. The feline ran forward and with every ounce of energy in him focused into his kicking leg, booted the ball downfield. A slice... A few degrees can kill you on a kick this long.
The referees raised their hands in the air to signal the kick was good, and the leopard fell back in the grass, screaming out in disbelief. He was immediately crowded by his teammates and lifted off the ground, carried off the field. Final score: 9 to 7, New Hamburg.
Hearts sank as the opponent came down with the ball in the end zone for a touchdown that put them ahead by 4. It'd been back and forth all night, and the moment Murraysville State settled for a field goal, it seemed written in the stars that they'd be beaten by their rival in the Sunflower Bowl. The extra point was good, and there was nothing but one second on the clock.
Enough for the kickoff.
Sweat coated the inside of a pair of black gloves that covered the otter's paws. The whistle blew, and moments later the ball was in the air. He retreated, backpedaling deep into the end zone. The wind was working against him. He leapt in the air, his fingertips tipping the ball upward, stopping it from going past the end zone for a touchback. He caught it on its way to the ground, and took off. Eyes scanned for gaps in the blockers as he saw black jerseys close in on him.
Go.
The otter crouched low to duck a diving tackle, placing a paw on the ground to keep him from being downed, and sprinted for a hole he found. Lowering his shoulder, sheer speed and determination led him to level the lion who tried to stop him. Open field in front of him, the otter pumped his legs, running for the end zone. Instincts felt someone coming up behind him, and he turned his head, only to take a hit from the other angle. He stumbled, nearly fell, before he pulled his leg free of the only defender behind him.
The only defender beside him lowered his shoulder and rammed him in the chest, forcing the otter to fumble the ball. Sprawled out on the field, the mustelid simply stared at the sky in a stunned daze.
===============
"Hey... Hey, how about drinks on me tonight?"
"Really, no. I'm not in the mood."
"...Man, you made one fumble..."
"In the championship game."
"Yeah, but it was just one fumble. You'll be fine."
"Dammit Vaughn! It's not just one fumble!" The otter stood up and stared down at the still seated snow leopard. "It's the one fumble, the one dropped game winning pass, and the one muffed catch. Three years in a row I cost us that bowl game, so I don't wanna hear your shit about one fucking fumble!"
The leopard's ears pinned back to his head, which dipped to look at the table. After a period of silence just short of being too much to bear, he raised it again. "Ty. You led the NCFA in regular season receptions, touchdowns, kick return yards, and yards after catch. I, on the other hand, am a kicker."
"A good kicker."
"...Whatever, but I'm still just a kicker. Don't you read the websites? Everyone's saying if you go past the second round they'll quit sports journalism for good. I'll be lucky if I get drafted at all." The leopard snorted out a laugh, rolling his eyes. "So, while I'm still richer than you, at least let me buy you a damn drink, eh?"
The mustelid couldn't help but let his muzzle twitch up on the sides. "...Heh, alright. I mean, it's just three games, right?"
"Right, now let's hurry up. Kickoff for Denny's game's in a half hour, and we're meeting Willie at the bar." With that, the leopard kicked up out of his chair and headed into his bedroom.
"You do realize we'll be the only Toledo fans there, right?" Ty called out over his shoulder before turning around.
"So what? Put this on," Vaughn launched a navy blue jersey out from his bedroom which hit the otter square on the face.
With a sigh, the otter obliged.
===============
It was a fake. The line of scrimmage was one yard short of the first down, and everyone on the opposing line bought the run up the middle. By then it was too late and the pitch had been made to the halfback, who sprinted upfield, leaving everyone behind. The crowd was already cheering in victory as the fox performed a diving somersault into the end zone for a touchdown.
The breaths seemed decibels louder as he chased down his man. Never looking back once, the rat focused on the cat in front of him. He seemed to be going deep, but he knew his man was getting the ball on this play. He slowed down, laying off his coverage.
When the cat turned his head, the rat cut inward, leapt up and reached his paws out. The pass was deflected, falling dead to the ground. The clock read zero, and the game was over. Saint Alan over Alastair College, 20-19.
===============
"Oh, shit! Oh shit, look at that jump!"
"...Holy crap. What a play. Good thing that guy wasn't on me today." The rabbit joked, drawing his attention away from the highlight reel of the previous game, the side of his lip curling up. "What's his name? Dawkins? Never heard of him..."
"Hey, Donnelly lost the game for his team three years in a row. Think you'll get drafted above him?" The squirrel scratched behind his head as he gulped down water, waving for their waiter to bring him another.
"I don't know, man. He's got all those yards... And he returns kicks, too."
"But he's got butterfingers, dude!" Randall, the squirrel, held out his paws to either side toward the rabbit. "And you were second in pretty much all the receiving categories. Now, I'm not the quarterback that Smith guy is..."
"Bullshit, you can outthrow him ten yards. Donnelly's more elusive, and faster, and..."
"Can't catch the ball, or hold on to it when he does! Dude. You got him. You're both first round... The Aztecs and the Jets both need wide receivers, the Aztecs will take you and he'll go to the Jets. I guarantee it."
"Hey," Oliver, the rabbit, diverted the subject. "Game's on."
**********************************
FOURTH AND INCHES
By Geoff Wabbit.
**********************************
"Den, ny, Hauck! Den, ny, Hauck! Den, ny, Hauck!" The cheers may have been lucky to reach the wall. The big bear Denny Hauck had just recorded his seventh sack of the game, securing Toledo's final lead of 14-13. Willie Gaines, Vaughn McElroy, and Ty Donnelly banged their beers on the table in unison as they chanted, some of the liquid splashing over the edge of the fullest glass to drop to the table. Everyone else present were shouting in anger at coaches, a quarterback, an offensive line, wide receivers, and, more directly, high definition television sets lining the upper corners of Frank's Tavern, a local bar in the small town of Birch, Connecticut.
"Shit, guys. Who would've thought a buncha kids from Birch were gonna be football stars, huh?" The snow leopard, Vaughn, slid his beer on the table to clink them against the mugs of Willie, the fox, and Ty, the otter.
"No one else here. Especially all seniors like us... And all going to the NPFL," Ty added, returning the clink of glass.
"Potentially."
"Oh, for fuck's sake, Vaughn, you're gonna get picked up, even if you're not drafted."
"Willie, don't bother! I've been telling him that since before we even came here. Fuckin' attention whoring, is all it is."
"Fuuuck you." Vaughn rolled his eyes at the other two, taking a gulp from his beer, removing it to show a smirk. "Alright, fine. I'll be optimistic. Cautiously. Cautiously optimistic."
"Ahhh... Four little assholes from Birch're gonna be professional football players. How weird would it be if we were all drafted to the same team?" The otter chimed in, tapping his thumb against the rim of his glass.
"Yeah, suddenly NPFL coaches have a complete lapse of rational thought and we all go in different rounds."
"Oh my god, Vaughn," the otter almost laughed out, "Why you gotta keep being so fuckin' negative tonight? Loosen up. Maybe you should do some shots..." Even as he said that, he was almost standing off his chair to look for a wandering waitress.
"I don't need shots, Ty. I'm just analytical by nature, okay? Leave me alone." He shook his head with a laugh, muttering "Prick" into his glass just before taking a long drink from it.
"Hey, I heard that."
"What are you talking about you're not going pro?"
"Dad, I'm..."
"Wasting your talents on some English degree?"
"I wanna be a teacher, Dad!"
"I didn't raise you... In a house of God, no less... To shame your daddy!"
Theo Dawkins found himself in yet another screaming match with his father. "Dad, I'm twenty-two years old, I can make my own deci-"
Slap. The knuckles of the older rat rained a blow on the cheek of their owner's son. After this, there was a long silence, broken only by the older rat after a lengthy stand off.
"You'll play football, boy. If you don't, you ain't welcome here no more. Do you think your mama would want you to take all that talent you got and throw it in the trash 'cause you think you'd make a good teacher?"
It still stung.
"Boy, I asked you..."
"No! N... No."
Another silence.