Jon and Sarah sat in relative silence for the remainder of the game. This was still more civility than Jon had ever experienced from Sarah, but it was a bit easier for him to handle than active conversation. Jon was still relieved when he heard Biff announce, "Alright, it's a tie game: next score wins."
The two sides squared off, and Biff called for the hike. He faked a pass to his left. Then another to his right. Then he handed the ball off to a runner. The man found open grass and ran for it, gaining yards quickly. Then out of nowhere, Linda pounced on him, pulling him to the ground right before the end zone.
"Fumble!" someone cried. In the mess of limbs that went diving for the ball, it wasn't clear who had made out with it at first, but then a pair of pink-and-white sneakers, topped with biker shorts and a Russell Wilson jersey, separated itself from the fray.
Linda had the ball, and she was running, and the only man between her and the other end zone was Biff. Linda ran down the field, and Biff was ready. She picked up speed, and Biff was ready. She stared him right in the face, and Biff was ready. At the very last second she juked to the right, and Biff was ready.
Two 6'3" frames collided, but neither fell. Momentum kept carrying them downfield, yard by yard, even as Biff maneuvered to get underneath Linda and push her off balance. The end zone got closer and closer, and it was clear that Linda wasn't quite running straight any more. Any step and she might trip over her own feet.
But she didn't. And by the time Biff finally managed to wrap an arm around her legs and drag her down, Linda's upper body was already able to fall forward and past the goal line. The dogpile at one side of the field quickly migrated into a dogpile at the other end of the field, as player after player piled on top of Linda and Biff, but when the ball fell to the ground, it was still in Linda's hands, and it was comfortably inside the end zone.
Linda's team had won.
