You Pay for That Tackle

Episode 90

#. October 30, 2020

#-1. Lexington, Kentucky, USA

#-2. University of Kentucky

#-3. Football Practice Fields

We left Georgia early this morning. The trip to the away venue was a long one, so we traveled a day ahead to get ready.

The field UK had assigned us as a practice space sat right beside Kentucky's own practice fields. It looked like it doubled as a soccer pitch—the painted lines gave it away. That's just how away training goes. No big deal.

Once warm-ups wrapped up, Coach Monken shouted, "Quarterbacks! Ten-yard throws to start!"

We don't have any particular rivalry with Kentucky, but we're getting plenty of one-sided gatekeeping. Kentucky is currently on a ten-game losing streak against us, and the all-time record isn't even close. Twelve wins and fifty-nine losses, was it? Either way, we're here to make it sixty tomorrow. That's why we came.

"Moi!"

While the backup quarterbacks helped run the other drills, I talked with Coach Monken.

"Take Kentucky's defense lightly and you'll get burned."

"Yes, sir. Their numbers do look good."

"Their defenders have excellent swat mechanics. If you can't find your target, don't sit in the pocket—get out decisively. Their arm-swiping is good enough that the fumble risk is real."

I'd noticed the same thing on film. The outside linebacker wearing number 31, and number 92 at left tackle. Those two, attacking a right-handed quarterback's blind side, were well-synchronized, and even when they penetrated the pocket, they went for the ball rather than the tackle—that part had left a real impression on me. If they blitzed, 5 and 44 would likely come flying too, but the ones to watch were 31 and 92.

Coach Monken knew this as well as I did, which was why he wasn't insisting on pocket play. Quick decisions had just become even more important.

Beep-eek!!

"Good!! That's it for now!!"

"Everyone gather up—!!!"

After roughly two hours of practice, we assembled in front of Coach Smart, then naturally dropped to one knee.

"I know a strange city must be tempting, but we kick off at noon tomorrow, so I will NOT tolerate any wandering!! Head back to the hotel, unpack, and we'll run a quick meeting!! After dinner I'll give you free time, but nobody leaves the hotel grounds!! Win this thing decisively tomorrow, then enjoy your Halloween!! One, two, three!!"

"BULLDOGS!!!"

When practice was fully over, a group of people approached from one side. They looked like Kentucky's coaches. Coach Smart walked over and extended a hand, and soon they were deep in conversation.

James Cook came up beside me. "You get an offer from Kentucky too?"

"Yup. You?"

"Yeah."

I didn't remember exactly, but I thought I'd gotten a letter. Whether I ever met a recruiting coordinator, I couldn't say for sure—but I definitely never met the head coach. I probably turned them down early. Kentucky gets plenty of love for its basketball, but not so much for its football.

Our bus was headed for a three-star hotel near the stadium. The cooks who'd traveled ahead were already preparing the food.

The moment I sat down on the bus, Zamir snatched the seat beside me. The reason this kid loves sitting next to me is simple: I'm the quietest one on the bus. I don't talk much, and I don't even snore when I sleep. Zamir pulled a hungry look and groaned.

"I'm starving to death over here."

"Same."

"One Chick-fil-A sandwich down the hatch, easy—that'd be heaven right about now."

"How do you eat those and never get sick of them?"

"Not even a little. You?"

"Eh, about the same."

"Heh heh heh. See? Knew it."

The Chick-fil-A sandwich is the soul food of college students. Fried chicken, pickles, mayo sauce. Simple, but the taste is guaranteed. You can ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠add cheese or bacon to taste, and as long as the bread isn't drowning in butter, it's a choice that can't go wrong.

The ride to the hotel took less than five minutes.

Inside the hotel, once the meeting ended, we headed to where the food was laid out.

"Hey, Mike. Good work—you must've been busy."

"Haha—it's the job, you know. How was practice?"

"Not bad. What's good today?"

"Ribs. I'd recommend the ribs."

"Yeah? Alright, give me some of those."

On days like today, when we travel a day ahead, the cooking crew moves with us. Mike graduated from Georgia two years ago. He's built enough that he could have played football, but a car accident wrecked his hip. So he planned to do the job he does now, all along: taking care of our stomachs.

"Thanks, Mike."

"Eat till you're stuffed."

"Yes, sir—"

The buffet spread was practically NFL-grade. We eat food this good every time, but not everyone's palate agrees, so the picky eaters would inevitably crawl out of the woodwork. Those guys usually crave junk food.

Should an athlete really be eating that stuff? Honestly? Not a huge deal. A healthy diet is obviously ideal, but football players aren't held to that strict a standard. Big bodies north of 350 pounds live on hamburgers. You don't get that big on clean eating alone.

Ding—

While I was mid-conversation with the guys, chowing down, a message notification chimed. I keep DM notifications off entirely—otherwise daily life becomes impossible.

Damn, girl. Pick a tree that's actually climbable first. I don't just eat anything—and you've already got an owner, don't you? Why on earth would I take leftovers someone else has been picking at? Get some class before you come hungering around.

"What is it?"

"Spam."

The sender was Ashley Deanda. As for how she got my number, I didn't think it was particularly important. It wasn't the first or second time this had happened—girls who wanted my number would mobilize every connection they had and find a way, one way or another. It creeped me out at first, but I'm used to it now.

Anyway. You—

Blocked.

"Done."

I couldn't wait to see what kind of looks she'd be throwing my way on the football field tomorrow.

(Sean McDonough) — SECN Play-by-Play

"Happy Halloween—Kentucky is looking to put some fear into the Bulldogs today. Kentucky will be without their starting quarterback, while Georgia is missing its No. 1 wide receiver. Let's see what kind of game these two teams put on!"

(Sean McDonough)

"This SEC Network football broadcast is brought to you by ALL State. Clear skies, a pleasant fifteen degrees Celsius—beautiful football weather. No. 2 Georgia comes to town, and Kentucky is hunting for the upset. They'll ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠want to end the ten-game skid that's stretched on since 2009. But this year's Georgia is fiercer than ever—and that's because of this quarterback right here. Dwayne Moi Stone—four touchdown passes against Alabama last week. An unbelievable start to his career, and on that subject, Kirby Smart sat down for an interview. Let's take a look."

(Sean McDonough)

"Four hundred twenty yards of total offense and four touchdown passes. That's what ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a true freshman quarterback did against Alabama's defense. Wow. Absolutely remarkable."

(Todd Blackledge) — SECN Analyst

"At this point, we've moved on to simply wondering what else this kid can show us on the field. Kentucky says they've prepared for him, and watching how they handle it will be fascinating. That said, there's a bit of a challenge today—Georgia has to overcome the absence of George Pickens. Kearis Jackson will step in, but either way, one receiver spot is going to be filled by a backup."

#. October 31, 2020

#-1. Lexington, Kentucky, USA

#-2. University of Kentucky

#-3. Kroger Field

Weeeeeeeee—

A siren was wailing through the stadium. It's a tradition of Kentucky home games. Across the way, the Kentucky players lined up on their sideline were hopping around noisily to the blaring music.

Then, with the kickoff, the music cut off.

"…That was short?"

"…No, that was deep."

Jake's kickoff had sailed out of the end zone. That meant the ball came out to the 25.

"Let's go. Let's go."

I stepped forward and traded hand slaps with the special teams unit one by one, then came back to the quarterback spot, sat down, and opened the Play Book. I hoped the customized strategy we'd prepared would work exactly as intended.

@@@

(Sean McDonough)

"Kentucky's offense needs improvement. Last week against Missouri, they ran just 36 offensive plays—while Missouri ran 92 snaps, nearly triple that."

(Todd Blackledge)

"That's part of why so much rests on Joey Gatewood's shoulders. He came in as a substitute last week and threw only five passes, but today he has to carry the offense from start to finish. He needs to be more proactive, more aggressive out there."

@@@

Kentucky opened with rushing plays. Joey Gatewood, the starter, took the snap from exactly five yards back, and across six offensive attempts, he never threw a single pass.

They did manage one first down, but the drive ended quickly. That's a bit much, isn't it? Slow. Boring. And not threatening in the slightest. Our D-line, the one that held even Alabama's offense under thirty points, would probably yawn its way through an attack like that. Sure, it might change going forward—but that was the first impression. Weakest-looking opponent we'd faced yet.

Because Kentucky took a Punt, the special teams went back on the field. This time I stepped forward again to greet the defensive unit.

"Nice job. Nice job."

"…."

"Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey."

"Oh. Sorry."

"Nice job."

After I'd finally gotten a hand-slap out of the guy who'd tried to blow right past me, I headed to the sideline and took my place next to Coach Monken.

"They're dragging their feet out there, Coach."

"They're deliberately moving as slow as they can."

"Trying to drag us into the mud, I'd say?"

"And you planning to roll around in it with them?"

"Hell no."

"No need to rush too much, either."

"Yes, sir."

Six offensive plays. And the last one was a punt. Yet nearly four minutes had already burned off the clock. Now I understood why they'd run nothing but rushes—they didn't want the play clock stopping.

"Let's see how their defense moves."

"Yes, sir."

"Trips right, hopping."

"And the rest?"

"Brad stick. The rest, I leave to you."

"Can I send them left afterward?"

"After the hop?"

"Yes."

"Give it a shot."

"Yes, sir."

Kentucky's punt was decently executed. It bounced out of bounds at the 14-yard line. Our first offensive series began with 11:13 on the clock, and I walked onto the field, adjusting my helmet.

@@@

(Sean McDonough)

"As we heard in Kirby Smart's pregame interview, and as offensive coordinator Todd Monken made crystal clear as well: this is Dwayne Moi Stone's team."

(Todd Blackledge)

"That goes without saying. A true freshman quarterback has this team at 4-0, and two weeks ago he took down Alabama itself. He dominated head-to-head against Mac Jones—and no disrespect to Mac Jones, who was flawless against Tennessee last week, but this freshman outclassed him in that matchup."

(Sean McDonough)

"Last week's Alabama game drew a staggering 16.8 million viewers, the highest rating in NCAA football history. And every Georgia game this season has cleared at least 9 million. Unbelievable."

@@@

First down attempt. The other guys all knew the play too. With about twenty seconds left on the play clock, I signaled to the left.

Trips. A formation stacking three wide receivers on one side. Layered on top of it, Hopping is the call that adjusts the tight end's and running back's positions—on the signal, they have to shift to the opposite side.

The moment Kitty and Zamir moved from the left, Kentucky's defense scrambled to respond. We'd left four receivers plus the running back on the right side alone, so they shuffled their defenders to match.

The first to react was number 1. Then 29. Number 1 reacted because of the tight end—and 29 is the anchor of Kentucky's defense. Except the kid isn't a linebacker; he's a defensive back. Kentucky must be planning to blitz today. It's too much to ask a linebacker who's supposed to be charging the quarterback to also handle defensive adjustments, so they'd handed the middle linebacker role to 29 instead of 5, who normally runs it.

Isn't that just delicious? One movement, and so much reveals itself.

Time to call the play. I went straight to the audible—the thing I'd mentioned earlier.

"Quick Silver! Quick Silver!"

Zamir met my eyes and nodded. Then he faced forward again. The adjusted defensive line showed no change. Neither did the defenders' eyes. The play hadn't been sniffed out.

"White 80!! Turbo, set!!"

I took the quick snap, then handed the ball off to Zamir behind me. Zamir, who'd hopped to the right, swung back left and took off—the only defender who could have caught him, number 31, was locked up by left guard Justin Shaffer.

The line of scrimmage broke open in an instant, and Zamir surged forward. Kentucky's number 1, the last man standing in the backfield, managed the tackle eventually—but only after Zamir had already gained more than fifteen yards.

Quick Silver is a running-back-exclusive play: the back simply runs to the side opposite the one the quarterback declares. That's what makes the O-line's role so critical. But this time, the hop had pinned Kentucky's defensive eyes to the right, and since it was the first play of the drive, their D-line was still feeling things out—I didn't waste the opening, striking fast.

I'd bet money they're confused right about now. And when a defense is confused like that, they usually default to the textbook answer.

In this case: the blitz. We could stand to lean on the run a little more. For now, I glanced at the bench. There it was. The man really does know his stuff. A delicious play call came in, and I immediately formed the Huddle.

"Marching Band. Right trip. Zeus, zero alpha."

Marching Band—the play that sets the O-line brutes loose. This one was Right Trip, so the left linemen would be the ones moving. We'd be flat-out discarding the D-line on my blind side, but it didn't matter—the ball was going straight to Zamir anyway. Last came the receiver designations. Zeus is Zamir's nickname. Though among us, he's just Z.

"Let's go!"

Clap!

The formation snapped together fast, and I took the call. "White 80!! Turbo, set!!"

Two left O-linemen fired up off the snap and rolled to the right, and shielded behind them, Zamir launched the rush. The gain was only about four yards—but a flag had been thrown. Which way did it go?

【"Face mask. Defense. Fifteen-yard penalty. First down."】

A ref of very few words, apparently. He didn't even tell us who committed the foul. Slightly disappointing—players tend to wobble right after they commit a penalty, and that's a lane you can keep hammering. Still, I was satisfied. Fifteen free yards. We were already closing in on the 40, and it had taken all of one minute. That part pleased me quite a bit too.

"…."

At last, the play the bench had been saving got its call. We'd crossed into midfield, and that was why.

"Shallow Cross."

That single phrase carried everything in it. The fine details, I'd adjust myself. The anti-blitz strategy. When Kentucky crossed into midfield territory too, they switched their front from a 4-3 to a 3-4, and through substitutions they packed the field with every man who could come hunting for me.

Twenty-three seconds left on the play clock. Still time to spare. The reason the blitz-busting play call isn't complicated is precisely so the huddle finishes fast and buys me time to read Kentucky's defense. Football demands this level of attention to every fine detail. There's no such thing as a call without a reason.

One cornerback on the left. On the right, where two receivers lined up, two corners. The safeties sat in ordinary spots. With that look, the number 5 in my right eyeline most likely wouldn't charge—he'd drop back. In a 3-4, one edge defender takes the underneath coverage, while the D-line trio up front and the three linebackers behind them would come swarming to swallow me up.

The O-line's weak points were the left side and straight up the middle. I sent Trey to the left, then pointed at the middle and shouted, "5-22!! 5-22!!"

That call designated the defenders who'd be coming for me. It sharpens the O-line's focus—even if nobody knows whether they can ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠actually hold. The play clock dipped under fifteen seconds. Next, I set the routes.

"Orange 13!! Orange 13!!"

Finally, the running back's position adjustment. Right in front of me, to the left—blocking coverage needed one more body.

"Re-ady!! Hut!!"

I took the snap from the Shot Gun position and tracked KJ with my eyes—the man who was supposed to become my receiver. A defender burst through between the O-linemen. The instant I confirmed it, I whipped my right arm forward, and just as the pass was nearly leaving my hand into KJ's grasp, I took the hit head-on and went down backward.

Thud!!

That tackle was a little late, no? That's a flag right there. When you take a hit square like this, breathing gets tricky for a moment. Which is exactly why this kind of groan just pours out of you.

"Aah… haa-!!"

You can't breathe normally, so this is how you have to do it. And yet—strange. Still nobody coming over. Was the play still live? Or was I in so much pain that time was stretching? That could be it.

"Haa-!"

Someone approached as I lay there trying to draw breath, and without checking who it was, I took the offered hand and pulled myself up.

"Ungh. Ah—hoo."

"You good?"

"Haa—hoo. No. Can't—breathe right."

"Just take some deep breaths."

"Haa—"

@@@

(Sean McDonough)

"Dwayne Moi Stone's first pass arrived right on the money. Shallow Cross tore into the soft spot behind Kentucky's defense. Georgia is already near the red zone after just three plays. This offense is fast—and relentless."

@@@

KJ had picked up extra yardage after the catch. Twenty-seven-yard line. The bench sent in a rushing call—time to nurse the damage from that last tackle. From my standpoint, a welcome gift.

"Tss—oo. Hoo."

Finally starting to feel a little better. First, run the play.

"Turbo, set!"

Milton's rush pushed us another five yards, and I flashed the bench the all-clear signal.

Our first drive of the game. I'm putting points on the board this possession, no question about it.

That tackle's bill comes due. You pay for it. Fair's fair, no?