[08.27.04]
Written by: Bob Pinter

For the Love of the Game, Part 11
Warner Continues to Play Hero

[08.27.04] (Somewhere in Hawaii) -- As the Green Bay Fudgepackers walked off the field, about 100 pairs of eyes lit up.

"We're playing for the right to play WHO?" Detroit Drive receiver Joe Horn asked aloud.

"You heard me," quarterback Michael Vick replied. "Green Bay. So let's not blow this."

"Just play our game," Jamal Lewis said. "We can take them, we can take Timbuktu. Let's do it."

But neither the Drive nor the Buccanneers could get any momentum as the Hawaiian sun finally began to set in the sky. It was six in the evening, and the PWFFL players had been playing mild tackle football with no pads all day. Well, some of them had. For teams like the Kalamazoo Vikings and Seattle Slimy Slugs, it was sit-on-a-bench-or-picnic-table-and-watch time.

But the Drive and Buccanneers were still alive in this summer tournament. And while Detroit had gotten most of its wins on the ground, Timbuktu had done it through the air, on the arm of its new quarterback, Kurt Warner.

But Warner was watching the Drive carve out yards from the sideline. The first quarter came and went, and Vick and company were trying to make something happen in the second.

"Okay, we've got them where we want them," Vick stated, after running for a 16-yard gain the play before to get Detroit to midfield. "Vern, run a post here. Horn, you break out right. Jamal, be ready for the dump."

"Ready, BREAK!" the offense called.

Vick dropped back and executed a perfect spiral to Coles, a 25-yarder. But on third down, with nowhere to go, the Drive signal-caller took off on his own again.

"Bring it, baby, bring it..." he whispered under his breath.

And Warren Sapp did bring it, hitting Vick like a westbound Amtrak, knocking the wind out of him, and leaving the Drive short on third down again.

"Get in here, Jay!" Sapp shouted to Jay Feely, the Drive kicker. "Looks like your boy didn't make it again!"

Feely made the field goal, but so did Martin Gramatica a few minutes later. The Detroit players exchanged nervous glances. Warner was starting to find his rhythm, hitting Keenan McCardell and Jimmy Smith with bullets for first downs.

"They can't score!" Vick tried to rally his troops. "We can score! We can make those first downs! Stay sharp!"

This time, he kept his feet planted. Waiting until the Buccanneers had counted five full seconds before throwing, Vick found Coles and Horn on short passes.

"This is it," he barked as the seconds in the first half ticked away. "Let's get the lead now."

And suddenly, Vick looked more like Brett Favre on one play, throwing a rainbow over the Buccaneers' heads and into the hands of receiver Rod Gardner.

Halftime.

Detroit 10, Timbuktu, 3.

But then things ran cold for both teams, and the score stayed that way for another five-minute quarter. And as the Buccanneer offense returned to the field to start the fourth, Warner issued a prediction in the huddle.

"These guys will NOT score again," he told his teammates. "But we will. No more runs. Mike, look for the ball in the flat. The rest of you, just get open. I'll find you."

The rest of the huddle stared back. Warner was putting the game in his hands. But his look said it all. And they believed him.

"One, two, three, BREAK!" they shouted.

And Warner became legendary. He ripped off six straight passes, going left, right, to Jimmy Smith, to Keenan McCardell, to Mike Alstott in the backfield. By the time he found Eddie Kennison in the endzone on a seven-yard toss, the drive was but a formality.

And the Detroit Drive were looking like shadows of their former selves.

Vick tried going to Lewis and Najeh Davenport, but the Timbuktu defense was waiting. Forced to punt, Warner just smiled.

"Our time," he repeated to his teammates. "Our time."

Time was something the Bucs didn't have much of. As Keyshawn Johnson called out the 30-second mark, Warner tried to rally his troops one more time.

"Okay, guys," he said. "We're going no-huddle. And we're putting it in the endzone. Let's not give those guys a chance to tie it back up."

Warner found Jones again at midfield, and dumped a pass off to McCardell to get into Detroit territory. Two more passes to Jones and Smith put the Bucs at the Drive 20. But then, the unthinkable happened. Drive linebacker Zach Thomas sacked Warner for a three-yard loss. Clearly dazed, Warner spiked the ball to regroup.

"How are we doing on time?" he wondered.

"About 10 seconds," McCardell said.

"We need to hit them with something they won't expect," Warner replied. "You guys ready?"

They all nodded and broke huddle. Warner, too focused to hear Johnson calling down the seconds, sent his team in motion. He looked around for the one person he knew would win the game for Timbuktu.

Jimmy Smith was covered.

Keenan McCardell was covered.

Freddie Jones was covered.

And still, Warner threw a spiral into the end zone, into the waiting arms of Troy Brown, into the finals against Green Bay as the game ended.

Final: 17-10.

Warner collapsed on the field, exhausted, as his teammates piled on top of him. For a team that didn't make the playoffs last year, this was the highlight of the summer.

Somewhere in the distance, a car horn honked. While Warner and his crew thought it was in celebration, a few of the expressions on the faces of the Fudgepackers said it all.

"No," Sharper said. "Don't tell me..."