Chapter 2: Blitz

     “Come on Blaine, do it for me!” pleads the one BBHS cheerleader he did not want to hear anything from on the cinder track behind the home team bench.

“Bleeds, how can you ignore that?” asks Fas, turning to gape at the pompom-laden sophomore bouncing with encouragement for her guy.

“Time to turn this game around,” he growls, hands on hips while watching the kickoff to start the second half with his team way behind the Brearley Bears by a score of 21-0.

     Blaine had spent the week after the Bernards loss, which is what he considered a tie, blaming himself and steadfastly avoiding Mickie. He'd skipped the Saturday night party at Zab’s, made sure he'd gotten to school right as classes started, stayed away from the hallway where her locker was, ducked out the side door to eat lunch alone in his father’s sky blue Chevrolet Impala, and skipped last period study hall to go to LaMonte Field for practice.

 “Blaine, it’s some chick calling,” chided Beat who'd answered the Reed phone. “Do you want to take it upstairs where it’s private?”

 “Lifting weights,” was all he had answered from the third floor bedroom he shared with his little brother Wiley, not taking the emotional bait.

     The Reed's split-level house was identical to forty-four others on the loop of Hanken Road, the newest subdivision in town. Families with young children had rushed into the inexpensive box-like houses, and now there were thirteen high school seniors in the class of 1968 from this single block.

      Mickie, on the other hand, was from an early Bound Brook Dutch family and lived in a huge old house in the 400s. This wealthier part of town was charitably called a number for its fire whistle code that consisted of a series of blasts from loud horns mounted on top of telephone poles around town. Four toots indicating all blocks north of Maple Avenue were followed by a pause and then two more series of toots to specify the street and block. Less charitably, those neighborhoods were referred to as Snob Hill by the newer Italian and Polish families of Bound Brook’s more modest west end. It wasn’t a coincidence that most of the football players lived there or across the river in working class South Bound Brook while most of the cheerleaders and band kids were from the 400s. 

     After a short Crusader kickoff, Kenilworth has the ball on their own 45-year line for first down and ten yards to go for another first down.

“They might try to air it out to put us away,” warns Bleeds in the Crusader defensive huddle before the play. “Look for a run but be ready for the pass.”

     Blaine lines up in his usual middle linebacker position behind and between Fas at noseguard and the left defensive tackle. Just before the snap of the ball he hops to the outside of the defensive end and charges with the hike. The Kenilworth quarterback fakes a handoff up the middle, takes four quick steps back, and lunges forward to unfurl a long pass to a wide open receiver running down the right sideline. Blaine leaps as the ball flies from the quarterback’s hand, slapping it out of a spiral and down into the hands of the defensive end who grabs it and sprints fifty-five untouched yards for a Bound Brook touchdown.

“Great play Perini!” shouts Bleeds, slapping the tall defensive end on top of both shoulder pads as he leaves the field.

Box Score

	1Q	2Q	3Q	4Q	Total
David Brearley (1-1)	7	14	0	3	24
Crusaders (1-0-1)	0	0	12	14	26