The shackles of free safety.

• Author: Bezrski, Czonko, Jr.
• Position: High-school football; includes article on multi-threat quarterbacks - Athletic Arena

THE GAME swung back and forth with several lead changes in the second half--a classic battle between two great teams. Then, with just over two minutes to play, we scored to take the lead and it looked like we were going to beat the reigning state champions.

We kicked off and they took over, ready for one last drive. There was no sense of panic among them. They were a seasoned championship team poised and confident as they picked up a first down right away, then another--advancing the ball way too easily with plenty of time left to score.

Coach was coming undone. On the next play, they picked up another first down, taking the ball to our 45-yard line. At that, Coach called timeout and huddled with the assistant coaches as we stood by watching and waiting. The game was hanging in the balance and it was not looking good for us. Our defense was kaput--done for the night, running on vapor and fumes, no gas left in the tank. They had given it everything and had nothing left. We stood watching as the coaches stayed huddled for the entire timeout, without talking to any players.

As the ref was running over to restart play, they finally broke the huddle, all stepping back at the same time. Then everything got weird fast, as Coach came rushing directly over to me, looking like he was seething mad. I was wishing I could disappear, since I did not know what I did to anger him. He got right up in my face in front of all my teammates and everybody in the stands.

"I have to play you! Ahhh ..." he screamed with a fading yell. "I have to play you!" he yelled again, then ground his teeth at me. Of course, I was stunned. He had to play me? What was he talking about? What did he mean? On defense? At that moment in the game? We were not on offense. Why did he have to play me? I did not even know our defensive sets. I did not play defense. I played tailback on offense, but he obviously was serious. There was a growl-like sound coming out of his throat as he stood snarling without saying anything, and I stood waiting.

What irony. How could you have a more convoluted storyline? We did not get to meet this same team for the state championship the year before, partly because Coach would not play me. He refused to play me for even a single down the year before. Now, in the next biggest big game since our semifinal loss in Houston, with barely a minute left, Coach suddenly was ready to play me--on defense? Spitting and spewing, he yelled for me to line up deep middle and "Don't let anyone get past you!"

As he shoved me onto the field, I caught my balance and ran out to line up for the next play. Talk about no warning. How could anyone in my shoes have seen it coming? As bizarre as could be, the whole thing reminded me of my old fun coach from seventh grade who told me I was f-r-e-e safety, and to go out and cover the whole field by myself--and I delivered...