Family Support III

From their own 35-yard line, the Moose Ridge kicker took a running start and struck the ball hard.

The sharp sound of the impact cut through the air as the ball spun like a missile toward the other side of the field.

Every eye in the stadium locked onto the ball.

On the receiving team, it's usually running backs, cornerbacks, or fast wide receivers. But Andrew, though a quarterback, was also part of this special team. It wasn't typical, but his elite physique, speed, and running talent made him a valuable weapon even in these plays. The coach knew he could make a difference, either by blocking or, if he got the ball, gaining serious yardage.

In the return zone, Archie saw the ball coming his way, caught it securely at chest level, and took off running.

Kevin and Reggie blocked right away, creating space, while Archie accelerated through the gaps like lightning.

And then it happened.

A Moose Ridge player managed to slip past Steve and launched himself straight at Archie, trying to stop him before the 25-yard line. If he succeeded, it would be a rough start for the offense.

But Andrew saw it coming. In a matter of seconds, he calculated the angle, stopped on a dime, and planted himself right in the defender's path, feet firm and body slightly tilted forward, like a living wall.

He didn't tackle him, since it wouldn't have been legal. He could only block or act as a human shield.

The defender had no time to react.

CRACK!

He crashed straight into Andrew and bounced backward as if he had slammed into a concrete wall.

Andrew barely took a few steps back.

The crowd's "OOOH!" came almost instantly, followed by applause.

Thanks to that block, Archie kept running for another five yards before being brought down at the 29-yard line. A great return.

Andrew, however, didn't celebrate. He stood still for a second, looking at the player on the ground, then turned to his team and jogged toward the huddle.

From the stands, Phil stood up, waving his flag enthusiastically. "Now THAT'S a block! That's what a complete quarterback looks like!" he shouted excitedly.

Cam, with a hand over his heart, yelled, "My boy is a force of nature!"

Andrew took his position behind the center. The offense lined up.

First down, 29-yard line. Seventy-one yards to the end zone.

"Set... hut!"

The ball snapped out quickly and cleanly.

Andrew caught it securely, took three steps back into passing formation, and lifted his eyes, scanning for his receivers.

One, two seconds passed.

The Palisades offensive linemen were doing a great job. They held back the pressure, helmets clashing, cleats digging into the turf.

But Moose Ridge wasn't giving up.

A defensive end broke free from a block and charged straight at Andrew, eyes blazing.

Andrew caught sight of him from the corner of his eye, stepped back instinctively, but it was too late.

He quickly secured the ball, and was tackled hard.

A sharp thud.

Andrew fell backward onto the grass, still clutching the ball, wrapped in the defender's body.

A silence swept over the Palisades stadium, as if someone had hit the mute button.

No one said a word.

Not because they didn't understand what had happened…

But because they had never seen it before.

Andrew Pritchett-Tucker had been tackled.

Since last year, in every game he had played, he had never been tackled.

He always managed to throw a successful pass, break free, escape, or improvise some stroke of genius.

But this time, he didn't.

This time his linemen held the defense for four seconds, more than enough. In fact, a very good time.

And yet… Andrew didn't get the pass off. And he went down.

'Is that the sky?' Andrew wondered, still lying on the turf.

It had been a long time since something like this had happened to him.

In his past life as Ethan, sure, he had been tackled plenty of times.

But here, he'd gotten used to being better. To always finding a pass, an improvised run… even if he had less than three seconds to think.

The Moose Ridge defender stood up first and celebrated like he had just won the game.

He pounded his chest, jumped, shouted.

On the other side, his bench erupted with even more joy than when they scored.

In the Palisades stands, where his family sat, the reaction was unanimous:

Silence.

Claire had her hand covering her mouth.

Mitchell and Cam looked at each other as if something serious had just happened.

Jay frowned. Gloria clenched the arepas tightly.

Haley and Alex exchanged worried looks.

Pippa said nothing. She just lowered her head a little, as if the hit had struck her too.

Phil, on the other hand, was the first to react with positive energy, waving his flag as if that alone could change the course of the game.

"This is nothing! Come on, Palisades! Let's go, Andrew! It's just the beginning!"

Jay clicked his tongue and, for once, agreed with Phil.

"He's right… even if it's not normal to see him like this, quarterbacks go through this all the time."

Then he added, looking at Claire, who seemed frozen in shock,

"The important thing is he didn't lose the ball. That would've been much worse."

Everyone heard him and nodded.

If Andrew had fumbled while being tackled and a Moose Ridge player had recovered the ball, they would've lost possession and Palisades would've had to go back on defense.

Meanwhile, not far from them, Howard, Leonard, Willa, Zach, Cara, and Sophie were watching the game.

The moment of the tackle had left them glued to their seats.

Zach threw both hands on his head like he had just watched a horror movie, "What!?" he shouted, incredulous. "He… he got tackled?"

Cara, sitting with her arms crossed and always so proud of her school, had her mouth slightly open. For someone as competitive as her, seeing number 12 go down was like watching a flag fall.

"This isn't real… it's an illusion," she murmured, as if saying it might make it less true.

Sophie, calmer, kept her composure, but anyone who knew her well could tell the scene had rattled her.

There was something strange about that silence…

About how the hit echoed not just on the field, but inside everyone who knew Andrew.

Willa, sitting elegantly, brows furrowed and lips slightly tense, didn't take her eyes off the field.

'What are you doing, Andrew…?' she thought, uneasy.

Beside her, Leonard adjusted his glasses with a slightly trembling hand.

He never imagined a sport could give him this much anxiety.

Before meeting Andrew, he didn't even know what a "down" was, and now he was analyzing the opposing defense like the fate of the world depended on it.

"Four seconds and they got him… his reaction time is always 2.3 seconds," he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else.

Howard, meanwhile, was recording everything with his camera, mouth slightly open, unable to say a word…

Until he finally did.

"If we lose… is Andrew still gonna upload the highlights?" he asked.

Leonard looked at him as if he had just blasphemed.

"I don't know… He's never uploaded a video where he lost. Not because he pretends to be invincible, it's just that, literally… he's never lost. But if he does upload it… YouTube's gonna explode. It'll go viral for sure."

Before Howard could reply, a voice cut in sharply, "You're talking about losses in the first quarter?" Willa asked.

Her gaze was a mix of a sharp blade and classy sarcasm.

"They didn't lose possession, or the drive. It was just a lost down and three yards back. It's not like the world's ending. Breathe, cameraman."

Howard swallowed hard under the weight of that glare, "Don't look at me like that… it's like watching Superman get a nosebleed! It's traumatic!"

Willa scoffed but said nothing more.

Back on the field, Andrew pushed himself up from the turf with the ball still firmly secured in his right arm.

He took a deep breath and brushed the dirt off his uniform without saying a word.

Kevin, Reggie, and the rest of the offense gathered around him, visibly confused.

They had never seen him like this.

Kevin narrowed his eyes, searching Andrew's face for answers. "You okay?" he murmured.

"Yeah," Andrew replied, and immediately began giving instructions for the next play, his voice firm and direct, but lacking his usual spark.

The boys exchanged glances. Archie raised an eyebrow. Reggie frowned. But no one questioned it. They just lined up.

Second down. 13 yards to go.

Andrew took position under center. The stadium seemed to hold its breath.

The ball snapped into his hands. He looked to the left and saw Reggie cutting inside. He fired a quick, precise pass.

Reggie caught it and pushed forward for 6 yards before being brought down.

Third down. 7 yards to go.

Another play. Another short pass, this time to Steve, who caught it with a small hop and spun, gaining only 3 yards.

Final down. They had to gain at least 4 yards, or they'd lose possession.

The Palisades crowd murmured anxiously. They weren't used to this.

Andrew never needed all four downs. He usually moved the chains with a single pass of 10 yards or more.

Last year, he had even completed passes of over 70 yards.

Now, they were advancing in crumbs.

Fourth down, and Andrew managed to get the ball out in two seconds to Jack, the other receiver, who gained 6 yards before being brought down.

Palisades kept possession.

From the stands, there was applause… hesitant at first, then stronger as they saw the team moving forward.

"Palisades manages to gain 13 yards after three very tense downs! Whew… I'm not used to this. Are you?" said the school commentator, glancing at his co-host.

"No, not at all. Andrew usually completes 20-yard plays like they're drills. This was much more conservative than what we're used to. His reads were precise, but quick and safe, not looking for depth or exploiting big spaces," his co-host replied with an analytical tone.

On the field, Andrew looked up at the scoreboard.

0 to 8.

Moose Ridge had taken five minutes to score their first touchdown.

And Andrew, after doing the math, understood something:

If they tied the score in five minutes, Moose Ridge would still have enough time to score another touchdown before the end of the first quarter.

Which would leave them trailing at the end of the quarter.

And even if he trusted they could come back, the mental image of his grandfather flashed through his mind again.

He couldn't afford mistakes.

He would extend the drive.

Over the next several minutes, Andrew commanded the field like a calculating general. There was no flash or explosive brilliance, just precision, time management, and control of the clock.

Every play was designed to gain 10 to 15 yards at most across four downs, stretching the seconds, letting the clock run.

The offense moved, slowly but surely. Archie, Reggie, Jack, and the rest followed without complaint. The blocks were solid, the passes measured, the decisions razor-sharp.

Eight minutes later, Andrew connected with Steve on a pass to the right side of the end zone.

Touchdown.

He barely celebrated, simply raised one finger in the air and turned to the team.

"We're going for two."

They succeeded. A clean two-point conversion.

8 to 8.

The crowd erupted in cheers.

They weren't used to seeing Palisades advance so slowly, or take eight full minutes just to score a touchdown…

But what mattered was that they had tied the game.

It was a different way of watching the team play, less flashy, more cerebral.

Andrew walked over to the bench, grabbed the water bottle a teammate handed him, and sat down in silence.

Sweat rolled down his neck, but his eyes were fixed on the field, showing no emotion.

The coach watched him for a second, then approached, arms crossed, "You played the clock," he said, with a slight smile.

"Yeah… I thought it was the best move. If I'd gone for a risky pass, I could've screwed it up," Andrew replied honestly.

The coach nodded. His expression was a mix of tactical satisfaction… and concern.

There were two minutes left in the first quarter.

And, as expected, Moose Ridge tried to advance quickly with aggressive plays.

But time ran out. A deep pass fell incomplete. And when they lined up for another play, the whistle blew.

End of the first quarter. Score: 8–8.

In the family stands, Jay nodded slowly. It wasn't the kind of football he was used to seeing from his grandson.

But he respected the tactical intelligence.

It had to happen eventually. No quarterback, no matter how good, throws 30-yard bombs in every single game without exception.

Still… he hadn't expected to see this in a fourth division game, especially not against Moose Ridge, a team Andrew had scored five long touchdowns on during the regular season.

"It's okay," he murmured to himself.

"He didn't get rattled by the hit. He didn't panic. He played smart."

But then he frowned.

Even though what he saw was reassuring, Andrew's face bothered him.

There was a strange absence in his expression.

He didn't get angry after being tackled. He didn't show frustration over having to use short passes.

There was no sign of the fire, that competitive edge, that usually made him unstoppable.

After just a few seconds, the second quarter was about to begin.

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