If Rock and Roll Were a Machine by Terry Davis

jogged back to the sideline carrying his helmet. When he neared midfield he stopped and looked up at Scotty. Bert had been watching him every step, and he observed this moment isolated from the movement all around. Bert turned and saw Scotty looking down at Camille. What Bert saw pass between the father and son sent a current of emotion through him.
    Bert knew there was a story in that look.
    â€œAre you ready for some foot-bawl?” Mr. Jackson sang out as the Thompson kicker waited for the ref’s whistle.
    The Rats ran a play, then the horn sounded and the teams changed ends. Fourth quarter. Rogers 27, Thompson 14. Plenty of time.
    The Rats made a first down, but Thompson held in the next series and Shepard went in to receive the punt. The Rat punter dribbled it about eight yards. Shepard didn’t get near it.
    The Explorer offense had a new look when they lined up. Shepard at tight end, Kelly McDougall set wide at the other end, Jackson a yard off the line between Kelly-Mac and the tackle in a receiver’s position, and Sean Christman at QB.
    Mike Jackson Sr. looked at Steve. Steve looked at Scotty. Scotty looked back at both of them. Zimster looked up at everybody but nobody noticed. “Guess they’re goin’ with the guys with the best hands,” Scotty said.
    At the snap Christman dropped deep, Shepard ran a sideline left, Kelly-Mac went post left, and Jackson held his block. When the coverage had drifted far enough left, Jackson slid off the block and swung for the right sideline. Christman floated the ball sweet and fat as a pumpkin, Jackson ran under it and kept going to the thirty.
    Shepard hooked over the middle and caught a bullet. He was nailed before he could go anywhere, but it was seven yards. Then everybody went deep. Shepard leaped out of the crowd at the goal line, pulled it in, and fell into the end zone.
    Jubilation reigned only briefly among the Thompson fans. Both Explorer tackles had also gone deep on the play. Illegal receiver. Fifteen yards in the wrong direction and a loss of the down.
    On the next play Christman rolled right in what looked like a sweep. But he reversed the ball to Jackson coming left. Shepard buried the defensive end, and Jackson outran the few Rats who realized he had the ball. Six more for the green and gold. The kick was good. Rogers 27, Thompson 21. Six minutes on the clock.
    The Rats got a good runback. Then they ran for three first downs. Then the only place to go was into the Explorer end zone. But the Explorers held one . . . two . . . three downs. And then the Rats kicked a field goal.
    â€œA field goal?” Bert heard Steve say. “What is this? High school kids don’t kick field goals.”
    â€œThat’s the seventh the Rogers kid’s kicked this season,” Zimster said.
    â€œNobody kicked field goals when we were playin’,” Steve said.
    â€œYou guys played in leather helmets—right?” Zimster said.
    â€œRight,” Steve said. “And we had no modern footballs. We had to rip the larger organs out of our friends and use them.” Steve wrapped one arm around Zimster’s thin shoulders and placed his other hand at his sternum, flexing his fingers like a claw. “And that, Jimmie the Zim, is what we did to our friends,” he said.
    â€œI don’t think you’d get a lot of play out of my organs,” Jim said. “They weren’t made to last.”
    Steve laughed. He kept his arm around Jim’s chair and remained seated for the kickoff.
    Pirates 30, Explorers 21. Three minutes.
    The same kid who kicked the field goal booted this one into the end zone. Jackson couldn’t run it out.
    It didn’t look like the Explorers could do it, and in this instance appearance coincided with reality: They didn’t do it. There was one play, however, that made folks glad they stuck around.
    After Christman got sacked on the ten, he hit Kelly-Mac for twelve and