The Rivalry (20 page)

“What?”

He put his arm around her. “We
are
the perfect couple.”

Susan Carol smiled at that, but she was still shaking. “I think I want to go home,” she said.

“Let’s find Bobby and Tamara,” he said, nodding.

They found them talking to a girl who appeared to be about their age, Matt Rennie, and Bob Woodward.

“Stevie, Susan Carol, I’m glad you’re here,” Woodward said. “This is Sarah Strum. She won a writing contest at her high school and is spending a day shadowing me. But she would much rather meet the two of you.”

“I’m a freshman like you two are,” Sarah said. “But I still want to be like you when I grow up. You are
so
lucky.”

Susan Carol wasn’t feeling that lucky at the moment.

They made small talk for a while before Susan Carol said, “Bobby, I don’t want to seem rude, but I don’t feel well.”

Kelleher seemed to understand that something was wrong. “Let’s go get our coats,” he said.

They said good night to Woodward and Sarah Strum and headed for the front door. It was definitely time to go home.

“So what happened back there?” Kelleher asked once they were all in the car. Susan Carol told him about Mike Daniels, his threatening tone, his mistaking libel for slander, and Stevie’s bravery.

Kelleher looked at Mearns. “I don’t like it. This guy’s a loose cannon. Maybe the kids should report from the press box tomorrow.”

“What?!” Stevie and Susan Carol both said together. “No way!”

“I know, but … Tamara? What do you think?”

“I think they deserve the chance to finish their reporting as planned,” she said. “And I also think we need to make sure they aren’t left alone for a second.”

Kelleher sighed. “Okay,” he said. “Okay. This game has more drama than even I feel good about.”

“L
adies and gentlemen,” the public address announcer boomed, “please welcome to the 111th playing of the Army-Navy game the president of the United States!” The cheers grew louder with every step he took. The only ones not cheering or clapping, Stevie noticed, were the Secret Service agents, whose heads appeared to be on swivels, and the photographers and TV cameramen backpedaling in front of President Obama as he smiled and waved and made his way to midfield.

“Okay,” Pete Dowling said when the final notes of “Hail to the Chief” died away, “you guys be ready to move on my signal. Remember to stay close to me and, Stevie, no smart comments while they’re doing the toss of the coin, okay?”

“Me?” Stevie said.

Dowling turned to another agent and pointed at Kelleher and Mearns. “They’re fine right here during the toss,” he said. “They stay here until the president leaves the field and Bob and I come back to get them.”

The agent nodded. The noise hadn’t abated even a little bit. “Hang on one minute,” Dowling said to Stevie and Susan Carol. “Let the captains get out there first.”

The captains had started walking to greet one another while their teammates, all wanting to get as close as they could, followed a few yards behind. Mike Daniels was waiting for them, and the president arrived a moment later. It was now extremely crowded around the giant Army-Navy logo at midfield.

Daniels introduced himself and the other six officials who would call the game. Agents were everywhere. Two CBS camera crews were moving around trying to get close-ups of everyone. Dowling pointed Stevie and Susan Carol to a spot a few feet from the Army captains. The president saw them and waved as if he had just spotted one of his kids at a school concert. They waved back.

“Don’t move, don’t say anything,” Dowling said over the din. “Just watch and listen.”

Stevie knew that as a reporter he should just be observing, but he was also an American and this was amazingly cool. He didn’t even try to keep the grin off his face.

Daniels had now opened his microphone so everyone in the stadium could hear him.

“Mr. President, I’m Mike Daniels, the game referee. It’s an honor to meet you, sir.”

“It’s great to be here,” the president answered, standing close enough to the mike that he could be heard clearly.

“Mr. President, this is a special coin made for today’s game,” Daniels said, reaching into his pocket and removing an extremely large coin. “As you can see, the front of the coin has an image of the White House, the back of the coin shows the Capitol building. I’m going to give you the coin to toss.”

“Thank you,” President Obama said, taking the coin.

Daniels waved the four captains closer. The two Army captains stood with their backs to the Army sideline, their teammates bunched up behind them. The Navy captains faced them, and the president stood directly in between them.

Daniels said, “Gentlemen, I know you’ve all met the president. Navy is the visiting team this year. Mr. Dobbs, Mr. Middleton, which of you will call the toss?”

“I will,” Dobbs said.

Stevie could see all the various cameramen, assembled opposite President Obama, jostling for position, clicking their cameras madly. He looked at Susan Carol for a split second and saw she had a smile as wide as his.

“Mr. President, will you hold the coin out so that Mr. Dobbs can see it?” Daniels asked.

President Obama held it in his palm and Daniels
continued. “Mr. Dobbs, the White House is heads.” He looked at Obama, who turned the coin over in his hand. “And the Capitol building is tails,” Daniels said. “Everyone understand?”

Everyone nodded. Daniels asked the captains to take a step back to give the president some room, and he took a step back himself to make sure the TV cameras had a clear shot of the president flipping the coin.

“Mr. President, whenever you are ready, you can flip the coin. Just toss it in the air and let it land on the ground.”

The president smiled. “Good luck to all of you,” he said, and flipped the coin high in the air.

Dobbs called, “Heads!” as the coin was spiraling in the air.

When the coin landed, Daniels looked down and said, “It’s tails. Army wins the toss. Mr. Klein? What does your team want to do?”

“We’ll defer,” Derek Klein said, meaning Army would kick off to start the game so it could receive at the start of the second half.

Everyone moved around so Daniels could signal which direction Army would kick in. There was more handshaking all around. Everyone had been instructed to stay in place until the president left the field.

He was greeted by Lieutenant General Hagenbeck, the superintendent of West Point, and other Army officials and escorted to the Army side of the field, where he would watch the first half of the game. As ever, they were
surrounded by camera crews and agents, but the president chatted happily with Hagenbeck, seeming completely at ease.

As soon as the president hit the sidelines, everyone on the field began scrambling again.

“Come on,” Dowling said. “Let’s get the field cleared so these guys can play a football game.”

Oh yeah, Stevie thought, the game.

The plan was for Stevie and Susan Carol to watch the game from the sidelines: Stevie on the Army side, Susan Carol on the Navy side.

As the field was being cleared, Daniels paused as he passed them.

“You two better watch yourselves. If you get in the way
at all
, I can have you thrown out of here in about five seconds,” he said.

“No, you can’t,” Pete Dowling said, magically appearing behind them. “I’m sure you have somewhere you need to be right now.”

Daniels glared for an instant, then turned and jogged away.

“Thanks, Mr. Dowling,” Susan Carol said.

“Can you two stay out of trouble for the next few hours, please?” Dowling said. “I don’t want to have to protect you too.”

“They’re the ones who started it,” Stevie said.

“I know,” Dowling said. “Although actually, Susan Carol, your story started it. Not that it was wrong.”

They heard another roar and saw that the president was giving a last wave before ducking into the tunnel. Dowling put his hand up to his ear again and said, “Roger that,” into his wrist.

He nodded at Stevie and Susan Carol. “All clear. You guys get set up on the sidelines and
please
duck behind someone if one of the officials comes close to you.”

“We will,” Susan Carol said. “But what happened with the Arnott family?”

Dowling shrugged. “Nothing. They’re in the stadium now, and we’ve got eyes on them. But there’s nothing suspicious we can see. Seems that all their big talk was just that.”

“But you had to take it seriously, right?” Stevie said.

Dowling nodded. “No doubt. Every threat is serious until proven otherwise. The FBI will continue to monitor their group. I appreciate your not writing anything that would compromise the agents’ position.”

“So you don’t have any concerns about the rest of the game?” Susan Carol asked.

“Well, the president will change sides at halftime, and the job isn’t done until we deliver him safely back to the White House. But no, I don’t have any special concerns anymore.”

“I do,” said Stevie. “The refs still suck.”

A
s Army kicker Jay Parker teed the ball up and the crowd came to its feet in anticipation of the kickoff, Susan Carol took a deep breath and looked around her at the happy, excited, tense, organized chaos of the Navy sideline. At last, they were going to see a football game. It had been a long two weeks and a very long morning. At least, she thought, the afternoon would be fun.

Alex Teich returned the kickoff for Navy to the 33-yard line. From there, Dobbs and his offense began moving the ball swiftly down the field. Fullback Alex Murray carried twice for twelve yards. Dobbs sprinted around the right side for nine and then went left for six and another first down. A quick slant pass to slotback G. G. Greene was good for another first down, and then Murray picked up another eight, setting up second and two at the Army 21. The Navy sideline was ebullient. They were poised to
jump to a quick lead en route to a ninth straight win over Army.

Susan Carol could barely hear anything above the crowd and the constant strains of “Anchors Aweigh.” Captain Matt Klunder joined them on the sidelines just as Dobbs took the snap and turned to hand the ball to Murray again. Only this time he pulled the ball out of Murray’s stomach at the last possible second, took three quick steps back, and lofted the ball toward the end zone, where wide receiver Greg Jones was a good five yards behind all the Army defenders. Jones gathered the ball in and went into the end zone for a touchdown.

The Navy bench exploded.

But just as quickly, the cheer turned to a groan. Susan Carol saw Daniels consulting with the back judge and nodding.

“Holding, number 84,” Daniels said, referring to Jones, the receiver who had caught the pass. “That’s a ten-yard penalty, and we’ll repeat second down.”

Jeff Fair, Navy’s trainer, was livid. “Holding? No Army player got close enough to the kid to get held.”

“Oh, please,” Klunder said. “Please don’t let the refs steal another game—not
this
game.”

“Let’s not worry yet,” Susan Carol said. “That’s not one of the officials from the Notre Dame game.”

“They really should have changed the officials,” Fair said.

The penalty put Navy back to the Army 32. Dobbs
tried a screen pass on second down, but it went nowhere. On third down he tried to give the ball to Murray on a late draw, but the play only picked up a yard. Trying to get some momentum back, Kenny Niumatalolo decided to go for it on fourth down and eleven, but a pass to Greene in the end zone was broken up.

From the Army sidelines, Stevie watched as Army took over the ball and began its first drive of the game. The sophomore quarterback Trent Steelman was running the option offense nearly as smoothly as Dobbs. The Cadets picked up three quick first downs and were soon at the Navy 30. Steelman sprinted left with the ball and made a last-second pitch to slotback Steve Carpenter. Carpenter caught the ball with a full head of steam and raced to the Navy 5-yard line.

Dick Hall and Dean Taylor were high-fiving as the Army bench went crazy.

“Hang on, fellas,” Tim Kelly said. “Take a look.”

Sure enough, a yellow flag was lying on the turf not that far from where they were standing. This time the umpire had made the call. As Daniels opened his mike to indicate that left guard Joel Davis had been called for a hold, Taylor was screaming at him.

“How do you see a guard holding in the middle of the line on a pitch?” he asked. “What was that, a makeup call?”

Stevie made himself scarce behind Dick Hall as the ref
glared in their direction. The ball was being marched back to the Navy 40. Instead of a first and goal at the 5, it was first and twenty at the 40.

“You called it, Tim,” Hall said. “The score is tied. One bad call each.”

Stevie looked at the scoreboard. The first quarter was almost over and the score
was
tied: 0–0.

It stayed that way as the first quarter melted into the second. Both teams would make good yardage, but then the defenses seemed to really dig in when they were in the red zone and no one could score. At one point, Army’s Derek Klein intercepted a Dobbs pass on a quick out pattern and raced thirty-nine yards down the field for a touchdown. But before the Army people could even begin celebrating, Stevie spotted the flag: interference on Klein. Army coach Rich Ellerson was beside himself: “There wasn’t anything close to contact,” he was screaming at the side judge who had made the call.

Navy took possession again, but nerves were high and the Mids got stalled by consecutive penalties for having a man in motion.

“Well, give them credit,” Kelly said. “The refs are calling bad penalties equally on both teams.”

The game was halted for a TV time-out. Stevie glanced at the scoreboard: there was 3:21 until halftime, and the game was still scoreless.

Terry Ramspeth, the line judge, had walked over near
where Stevie was standing during the time-out. He was, Stevie suspected, giving him the evil eye, but Stevie was doing his best to keep calm and look the other way. Dean Taylor, standing next to him, was a bit more of a hothead on the sidelines, as usual.