My Brother's Keeper
Posted: 24 Aug 2019, 17:47
The Rose That Grew From the Concrete
"...If you're just tuning in folks, boy, do we have a match for you. In the waning moments of the fourth quarter in the 2011 Florida Division I State Championship between IMG Academy and St. Thomas Aquinas, currently tied at 21 apiece. We've been fortunate to all be witnesses to one of the most incredible single-player performances at this level by St. Thomas Raiders running back Isaiah Morgan, talk about it George."
"Well, we've seen Isaiah Morgan - one of the premier athletes on the east coast star all season while he continues to build his 5-star resume, but wow, what a performance tonight as he continues to attempt to usurp the titan IMG defense. 26 carries for 257 yards, and he's also scored two touchdowns. He's still deciding between a few different schools, aiming to stay home, but my God, if Alabama doesn't come calling after this performance, I don't know what will."
"The Raiders will begin their drive after a seven-yard return by Dmitri Walker at the 22-yard line, and we'll see #26 continue to work his magic in the St. Thomas backfield..."
---
Isaiah marched his way onto the field with a slow jog, wiping the inside of his helmet with the bottom of his already soaked white shirt. His clear visor had begun to fog up on him with the heat failing to cool down as the sunny start of the game had been replaced with field lights and a dark sky. He got to the already full huddle and placed his helmet over his dreads he had recently started growing out.
"These muhfuckas' really gave us the ball with this much time left, let's capitalize fellas" his muffled voice spoke out as he tried to get his mouthguard situated from his helmet. The offensive line, full of hulking figures, all muttered agreement through their panting. The team had hardly been able to find their passing game all game long. The big boys up front have had to push for almost four full quarters. They were on their last legs.
"Alright fellas," the Raiders quarterback, Cedric Davis came jogging over. His white jersey had turned into a battle-worn shade of brown. IMG had played him tough all game long, penetrating the offensive line with blitzes anytime Cedric had dropped back to pass. His non-throwing hand had been stomped on earlier in the third quarter, leaving it now bloodied and bandaged. The pressure on Isaiah to perform was most-definitely on. "We're going to go I Flex Left 42 Toss on one, ready? Break!"
Isaiah stood behind Cedric who was in pistol formation. He hunched down to get his hands under the center as he began his cadence. He began spying the defense, watching the large, IMG defenders approach the line of scrimmage. They were showing blitz; trying to get to the assumed run as fast as they could.
"The Raiders go under center and IMG is showing blitz. The ball is snapped and tossed to the left to the streaking Isaiah Morgan. He's trying to break to the outside and is met by the outside linebacker. He spins out of his grasp and jump-steps into the inside, streaking back to the inside to avoid another. He's finally taken down after a dynamic gain of 16 yards!"
Isaiah, now panting, made his way back into the formation as Cedric motioned for hurry-up football. He snapped the ball and looked to pass before dropping his hands to hand the ball off to him.
"Davis looks to pass, and oh no...it's a hand-off to Morgan as he sneaks his way through the middle for another solid gain of seven!"
Isaiah glanced towards the sideline, hands on his hips, as he was sucking for air. Ordinarily, he was in excellent shape, he had ran the ball 28 times already tonight, not to mention all the routes he had ran and collisions he had made with threatening defensive players in pass protection. He was gassed. The sideline made no motion for him to come out for rest.
It was push time.
"Isaiah." Cedric called out. Unbeknownst to the drained running back, the team had been discussing the next play while the officials reset the sticks. "You good, brother?"
Broken out of his stupor, Isaiah gathered himself and nodded.
"Give me that fuckin' thing."
---
Tre bounced his knees anxiously as the crowd roared. He peeked down and watched Isaiah pick himself off the ground and flick the ball to the nearest official. He had ran for what seemed like another seven or eight yards. He paused for a moment, gave a half-heartened celebration by pointing towards another first down and scurried back to the forming huddle.
"Goddamn, that man just has no damn quit, does he?" the man sitting next to Tre said, bumping his shoulder into him and lifting his brows.
"He looks exhausted" Tre responded, huddling his arms together. He wasn't exactly cold, but goosebumps flicked the hairs on his arms to attention. His anxiety was always at an all-time high when he watched his older brother play.
"Well of course, they've been running the poor boy into the ground. IMG can't hang with him though, goddamn" Tre's father responded, clapping his hands loudly and grinning widely. Tre shook his head. Anytime him and Isaiah spoke about this game, Isaiah had been earnest about it. IMG would be the toughest game in his four years at St. Thomas Aquinas. They were the best in the state. However, Isaiah always made sure to mention, so was he.
The Raiders opened up in an empty set, Isaiah was out at wide right. He wasn't much of a receiving back, but he was an insane talent with the ball in his hand. Cedric the quarterback snapped the ball and immediately had to scramble out of the pocket due to pressure. Isaiah ran in unison with the quarterback, allowing Cedric to flip the ball quickly. Isaiah had room, stopped for a moment to scan his options before making one linebacker miss. He got a key block from wide receiver Nate Villeneuve and went racing down the sideline.
"Mama, there goes that man!" his father screamed over the erupting crowd. Isaiah was no doubt out of gas, running on fumes before being chased down at the 2-yard line by the sprinting free safety. He slowly made his way up before scrambling to the sideline, practically begging to be taken off. Tre could barely see the interaction between his brother and the head coach, Roger Harriott. The crowd was jumping up and down in the stands, and by the time Tre could catch a glance, his brother was slumping his way back out to the field.
Tre's father had begun dapping up and high-fiving other spectators in the crowd, he hadn't even noticed Isaiah's attempt to be taken out of the game. Tre twiddled his thumbs nervously as he stood with the rest of the crowd as the St. Thomas Aquinas offense broke out of their huddle.
"Finish this thing off, Zay, come on man," was all Tre could think of. He could only imagine what was running through his brother's mind.
---
"One more, Isaiah, that's all you gotta do, one. fucking. more." Isaiah thought to himself. As he stood behind Cedric as the quarterback scanned the field pre-snap, he could feel his knees wobbling under the pressure of his weight. His feet had gone numb. The sweat trickling down from his hairline to his eyes had become so abundant, wiping them away kind of seemed like a moot point.
It seemed as though everything was going in slow-motion as Cedric snapped the ball and immediately pivoted towards Isaiah lunged forward and prepared for the hand-off. The ball hit his gut and he immediately took two strides and launched his way overtop of the line of scrimmage, hoping he had enough strength left in his battered legs to make his way. He closed his eyes and braced for contact, knowing he was jumping his way into a world of pain.
Everything went silent - only the sound of his racing heartbeat rang through his ears. Everything was dark, quickly realizing his eyes were still rammed closed. He felt the ball still tucked tightly to his chest and figured he had landed. Everything was numb. He slowly cracked his eyes open, and almost like a movie, the life returned to him. As he did, he felt the offensive line pull him to his feet, exhausted but smiling faces congratulating him.
He peeked down and he realized where he was. The end zone. He had made it.
He looked up at the scoreboard and saw the St. Thomas Aquinas score go up by six. Then, he peered over to the time remaining on the clock.
Zeroes.
"...If you're just tuning in folks, boy, do we have a match for you. In the waning moments of the fourth quarter in the 2011 Florida Division I State Championship between IMG Academy and St. Thomas Aquinas, currently tied at 21 apiece. We've been fortunate to all be witnesses to one of the most incredible single-player performances at this level by St. Thomas Raiders running back Isaiah Morgan, talk about it George."
"Well, we've seen Isaiah Morgan - one of the premier athletes on the east coast star all season while he continues to build his 5-star resume, but wow, what a performance tonight as he continues to attempt to usurp the titan IMG defense. 26 carries for 257 yards, and he's also scored two touchdowns. He's still deciding between a few different schools, aiming to stay home, but my God, if Alabama doesn't come calling after this performance, I don't know what will."
"The Raiders will begin their drive after a seven-yard return by Dmitri Walker at the 22-yard line, and we'll see #26 continue to work his magic in the St. Thomas backfield..."
---
Isaiah marched his way onto the field with a slow jog, wiping the inside of his helmet with the bottom of his already soaked white shirt. His clear visor had begun to fog up on him with the heat failing to cool down as the sunny start of the game had been replaced with field lights and a dark sky. He got to the already full huddle and placed his helmet over his dreads he had recently started growing out.
"These muhfuckas' really gave us the ball with this much time left, let's capitalize fellas" his muffled voice spoke out as he tried to get his mouthguard situated from his helmet. The offensive line, full of hulking figures, all muttered agreement through their panting. The team had hardly been able to find their passing game all game long. The big boys up front have had to push for almost four full quarters. They were on their last legs.
"Alright fellas," the Raiders quarterback, Cedric Davis came jogging over. His white jersey had turned into a battle-worn shade of brown. IMG had played him tough all game long, penetrating the offensive line with blitzes anytime Cedric had dropped back to pass. His non-throwing hand had been stomped on earlier in the third quarter, leaving it now bloodied and bandaged. The pressure on Isaiah to perform was most-definitely on. "We're going to go I Flex Left 42 Toss on one, ready? Break!"
Isaiah stood behind Cedric who was in pistol formation. He hunched down to get his hands under the center as he began his cadence. He began spying the defense, watching the large, IMG defenders approach the line of scrimmage. They were showing blitz; trying to get to the assumed run as fast as they could.
"The Raiders go under center and IMG is showing blitz. The ball is snapped and tossed to the left to the streaking Isaiah Morgan. He's trying to break to the outside and is met by the outside linebacker. He spins out of his grasp and jump-steps into the inside, streaking back to the inside to avoid another. He's finally taken down after a dynamic gain of 16 yards!"
Isaiah, now panting, made his way back into the formation as Cedric motioned for hurry-up football. He snapped the ball and looked to pass before dropping his hands to hand the ball off to him.
"Davis looks to pass, and oh no...it's a hand-off to Morgan as he sneaks his way through the middle for another solid gain of seven!"
Isaiah glanced towards the sideline, hands on his hips, as he was sucking for air. Ordinarily, he was in excellent shape, he had ran the ball 28 times already tonight, not to mention all the routes he had ran and collisions he had made with threatening defensive players in pass protection. He was gassed. The sideline made no motion for him to come out for rest.
It was push time.
"Isaiah." Cedric called out. Unbeknownst to the drained running back, the team had been discussing the next play while the officials reset the sticks. "You good, brother?"
Broken out of his stupor, Isaiah gathered himself and nodded.
"Give me that fuckin' thing."
---
Tre bounced his knees anxiously as the crowd roared. He peeked down and watched Isaiah pick himself off the ground and flick the ball to the nearest official. He had ran for what seemed like another seven or eight yards. He paused for a moment, gave a half-heartened celebration by pointing towards another first down and scurried back to the forming huddle.
"Goddamn, that man just has no damn quit, does he?" the man sitting next to Tre said, bumping his shoulder into him and lifting his brows.
"He looks exhausted" Tre responded, huddling his arms together. He wasn't exactly cold, but goosebumps flicked the hairs on his arms to attention. His anxiety was always at an all-time high when he watched his older brother play.
"Well of course, they've been running the poor boy into the ground. IMG can't hang with him though, goddamn" Tre's father responded, clapping his hands loudly and grinning widely. Tre shook his head. Anytime him and Isaiah spoke about this game, Isaiah had been earnest about it. IMG would be the toughest game in his four years at St. Thomas Aquinas. They were the best in the state. However, Isaiah always made sure to mention, so was he.
The Raiders opened up in an empty set, Isaiah was out at wide right. He wasn't much of a receiving back, but he was an insane talent with the ball in his hand. Cedric the quarterback snapped the ball and immediately had to scramble out of the pocket due to pressure. Isaiah ran in unison with the quarterback, allowing Cedric to flip the ball quickly. Isaiah had room, stopped for a moment to scan his options before making one linebacker miss. He got a key block from wide receiver Nate Villeneuve and went racing down the sideline.
"Mama, there goes that man!" his father screamed over the erupting crowd. Isaiah was no doubt out of gas, running on fumes before being chased down at the 2-yard line by the sprinting free safety. He slowly made his way up before scrambling to the sideline, practically begging to be taken off. Tre could barely see the interaction between his brother and the head coach, Roger Harriott. The crowd was jumping up and down in the stands, and by the time Tre could catch a glance, his brother was slumping his way back out to the field.
Tre's father had begun dapping up and high-fiving other spectators in the crowd, he hadn't even noticed Isaiah's attempt to be taken out of the game. Tre twiddled his thumbs nervously as he stood with the rest of the crowd as the St. Thomas Aquinas offense broke out of their huddle.
"Finish this thing off, Zay, come on man," was all Tre could think of. He could only imagine what was running through his brother's mind.
---
"One more, Isaiah, that's all you gotta do, one. fucking. more." Isaiah thought to himself. As he stood behind Cedric as the quarterback scanned the field pre-snap, he could feel his knees wobbling under the pressure of his weight. His feet had gone numb. The sweat trickling down from his hairline to his eyes had become so abundant, wiping them away kind of seemed like a moot point.
It seemed as though everything was going in slow-motion as Cedric snapped the ball and immediately pivoted towards Isaiah lunged forward and prepared for the hand-off. The ball hit his gut and he immediately took two strides and launched his way overtop of the line of scrimmage, hoping he had enough strength left in his battered legs to make his way. He closed his eyes and braced for contact, knowing he was jumping his way into a world of pain.
Everything went silent - only the sound of his racing heartbeat rang through his ears. Everything was dark, quickly realizing his eyes were still rammed closed. He felt the ball still tucked tightly to his chest and figured he had landed. Everything was numb. He slowly cracked his eyes open, and almost like a movie, the life returned to him. As he did, he felt the offensive line pull him to his feet, exhausted but smiling faces congratulating him.
He peeked down and he realized where he was. The end zone. He had made it.
He looked up at the scoreboard and saw the St. Thomas Aquinas score go up by six. Then, he peered over to the time remaining on the clock.
Zeroes.