Chapter Six
Bench Cam
With the help of a GundTech programmer, Cameron Rush created a personal football training simulation. His dad worked with him within the simulation, running Cameron through drills against some volunteer IHT personalities who liked the game. The most amazing feature they built into the program was the ability to slow down the action of the simulation, which turned out to be a very valuable training tool. By the middle of October, Cameron had a full squad of players who helped him practice.
As a running back, Cameron had three duties: run, catch, and block. It didn't help Cameron that he was just average in size and speed. This meant that he had to elude players who were larger and faster than he was when he was running with the ball. It also meant he had to block very large, defensive players on plays when he didn't carry the ball or run a pass pattern.
"Well son," said Ed Rush, "you may not have size or speed, but you do have determination and brains. What we need to do is build on your strong points. You can't outrun the really fast guys, and you can't knock down the really big guys. So what does that leave you?"
Cameron shrugged, "It leaves me on the bench, I guess."
Ed Rush tapped the side of his head with his index finger, "It leaves you your brains. That's your strong point. You need to outthink the other players. Football is a game of physics and geometry — forces applied at angles."
With that in mind, Cameron's father had him run plays in slow motion, which was really weird. He'd feel like he was running full speed, but everything moved slowly around him. During this whole slow motion process, he could carry on a normal conversation with his dad.
As Cameron approached the quarterback to receive the handoff, he could hear his dad calling out, "You need to be looking now, son. You need to be seeing the hole you're supposed to run through." Once Cameron had gotten the ball, his father cautioned, "Now tuck it away, boy! Both arms over the ball… Be watching for the hole to form."
Cameron pulled the pigskin tight against his body. "I don't see it, Dad, I don't see the hole."
"You need to see the whole line, Cameron. Don't just look at where the hole is supposed to be. Watch for where it might be. See the entire line and adjust."
Cameron saw a gap open between two of his blockers a good five feet to the left of where the hole was designed to be. "I see it Dad." He planted his right foot firmly into the turf and changed directions. He saw the hole widen in front of him. One more step and he'd be through. Just then, the hole collapsed. One of his blockers was thrown backwards; a defensive player came flying at him, then another, and another.
Cameron's dad adjusted the simulation to full speed as the defense piled on his son. "It was there, Cameron. You just didn't see it soon enough."
Practices continued in slow motion until Cameron started seeing the holes early enough to make the cut and run through. As Cameron's vision of the field improved, his father increased the speed of the simulation. For Cameron, each increase in speed was like starting over. He knew what he was supposed to do, but he needed to react more quickly.
It was the first Friday in December - the day of the last game of the year. Despite the fact that he had not played a single play all year, Cameron had become the sports celebrity of the academy. He had mounted a small, wireless video camera inside his helmet. This camera was able to transmit picture and sound to his multiCom where it was made available on a password-protected channel to his friends in the Academy. Sam, whose voice now sounded much more human after the IHT upgrade, had assumed the roll of host and commentator for these net casts of the Troy High School home games. The show became affectionately known as "The Bench Cam."
"Why do you beat yourself up over this game?" asked Rosa the afternoon before the game.
"Maybe it's because I'm no good. Maybe its because I don't like being Chet's personal tackling dummy. Maybe, just once, I'd like to carry the ball in a real game and run forty yards for a touchdown. I like a chance to be a hero."
"Well, you may get a chance tonight, Cheese Boy. Didn't you say the team you're playing is ranked?"
"Yeah, Edgeriver's number five or six in the state, I think."
"Well, if you get far enough behind, maybe the coach will put you in!"
"Ha, ha," he said. "If it were funny I'd laugh."
"Anyway, good luck."
"Thanks. But I probably won't need it."
That night, Billy Peters saw Cameron's family huddled together in the back row of the bleachers, seated with their backs against the announcer's booth. Billy picked his way through the crowd and settled down next to Mr. Rush. The Edgeriver team was already on the field running drills. "They're monsters," said Billy with a note of awe in his voice. "Look at the size of 'em!"
The high school marching band began to play. The fans rose to their feet cheering as the home team took the field. "There's Cam," said Billy as his friend came into view. As Cameron trotted onto the field for warm-ups, an Edgeriver player accidentally ran into him while running a practice play. The blow flattened Cameron. "Ouch!" said Billy. "That had to hurt!"
"Definitely not a good start for the Bench Cam," commented Sam to his audience as the video feed blurred then refocused. When the image cleared, the camera was pointing up at the night sky. A hand came into the picture like the hand of God reaching down from the heavens. The form of what appeared to be a giant filled the screen. He was peering down at the camera. Cameron's hand came into the picture and grasped the outstretched hand of the giant.
"Sorry, man," said the giant as he helped Cameron to his feet.
"Uh, no problem," said Cameron, trying to act cool.
When the camera was pointed straight ahead, it looked the Edgeriver player squarely in the shoulder pads. The visiting player was a whole a head taller than Cameron.
"Where'd they get these guys," muttered Cameron for his viewing audience, "from the Green Bay Packers?"
"That was the biggest hit of the year for our hero," said Sam, "and our boy seems no worse for wear." He added with a chuckle, "Well, we finally have a clip for the highlight reel."
The game did not go as expected. This was good for the Troy fans. However, it was bad for Cameron's chances of playing. Troy held the mighty Edgeriver running game in check, but they paid a price for their efforts. Several of the defensive players went down with injuries. Likewise, Edgeriver had not allowed Troy to score. It was a good, hard fought game.
With the game still scoreless in the third period, Edgeriver drove the ball to the Troy 23 yard line. On second down, they ran the ball through the center of the line but came up three yards short of the first down. Once the players in the pile untangled, a Troy defensive back came running off the field, his shoe in hand. He was the team's number six defensive back, who was in the game only because two other backs had been injured.
"Coach Rausch!" yelled the Troy head coach. "Who do we have left?"
"Rush has filled in as a d-back on the practice squad."
"Rush!" shouted the head coach.
The Bench Cam swung in the direction of the coaches as Cameron heard his name called. He ran down the line to the coaches.
"Okay, boy, I need you to go in for Timms. Just for one play. They're a running team, so just go to the ball, Rush. We need to hold 'em. Just go to the ball, boy!"
The coach slapped Cameron on the back of the helmet. The thud of the slap resonated through the camera's sound pickup as Cameron ran onto the field for the first time all year.
"Network alert! Special bulletin! Hold the presses!" said Sam. "Our boy is in the game."
"Mom! Dad! Hurry! He's in the game," called Rosa. "They actually put Cameron in the game!"
Rosa's dad entered the room and sat down on the edge of her bed. "He's going to get to carry the ball?" he asked.
"No, Papa. They put him in on defense. Just one play, I think. Someone lost a shoe or something." Esmer Costas watched from the doorway.
Cameron's family stood and cheered wildly, while Billy sat, dumbfounded. "I don't believe it," he said. "Cameron's actually in the game!" Then the realization set in. "Mr. Rush. We're on defense. Cameron doesn't play defense!"
It all happed so quickly. The Edgeriver team was already lining up over the ball as Cameron was waved into position by the middle linebacker. Chet Ames glared back at him from his tackle position. "If ya screw this up, Rush, I'm gonna kill you."
Cameron tried to focus. They're a running team, he kept telling himself, Go to the ball. Go to the ball. He had barely got into position when the ball was snapped. He concentrated on the oblong brown object as the center thrust it through his legs into the waiting hands of the quarterback. Cameron could no longer see the ball, so he focused on the player with the ball — the quarterback. After taking the snap, the quarterback turned and took two steps away from the Troy line. His right hand darted out from his side, handing the ball to the big, bruising halfback who was sweeping to the right side of the field. Cameron felt the flow of the defensive line in the direction of the run. Cameron started to react when, at the left edge of his field of vision, he saw an Edgeriver player release from a block and slide into the open area to Cameron's left. It was the giant pass receiver who had knocked him down before the game. Simultaneously, he saw the quarterback curl to the same side as the receiver, holding the ball in his left hand close to his leg. Cameron planted his right foot on the frozen sod and changed directions. The quarterback shifted the ball into his right hand then pulled up his arm to cock the ball.
"Pass!" screamed the entire Troy bench and stands.
"Bootleg!" But it was too late. The entire Troy line had been suckered to the right.
The quarterback released the ball. It flew like a rocket on a rope towards the receiver, who stood wide open by the sidelines.
The Edgeriver receiver saw the release and concentrated on the approaching ball. His arms reached out for the reception. As soon as he felt the leather graze his freezing fingers, he cradled the ball into his chest. At the same instant, he was struck in the side. The blow sent him reeling towards the sidelines.
Cameron recoiled from his hit on the receiver who must have outweighed him by fifty pounds. He stumbled backwards, somehow managing to keep his feet.
The crunch of the blow rattled the speakers of many multiComs around the world.
"Ouch!" was the only comment Sam could come up with.
The image shook violently. The Bench Cam whip-lashed upwards after Cameron struck the Edgeriver player. There, dead center on the screen, illuminated against the night sky, was the football, tumbling end-over-end, high in the air.
As Cameron stumbled backwards. He spotted the ball tumbling above him. Be the hero, he told himself. Not taking his eye off the ball, he regained his balance, reached out, and snatched the ball from the air. He quickly got his bearings and headed down the sidelines toward the goal line. Be the hero. He was at midfield before he became aware of the crowd screaming. He was at the forty… thirty… twenty… He was going to score!
Half the country away, Rosa and her parents were screaming. "Run, Cheese Boy, run!" shouted Rosa as she jumped up and down. The camera suddenly slammed to the ground and went black.
"Our transmission has been broken," Sam informed the viewers abruptly. "I expect that will conclude tonight's net cast."
"I can't believe we're up at the wee hours of the morning watching this Bench Cam," said Gwen. "It's a horrible American sport. One you don't even understand."
Her boss shrugged and grinned, "You just have to admire this kid."
"No, it's something more, isn't it? There's something about these two American students. You've taken an unusual interest in them from the very beginning, when they were the first to apply. And now I hear you've been personally monitoring some of their simulations. Gus, what's going on?"
"Now is not the time, Gwen," was his only reply.
A technician at a La Crosse, Wisconsin television station was watching the Bench Cam net cast. The local sports reporter was sitting beside him. "Did you say this is that kid from Troy who's in the IHT academy?" The technician nodded. "How did you find out about it?"
"The password was posted on some hacker's site. I first saw it about three games back. There's something strangely compelling about it. Sorta like those old shows when we were kids. What did they call 'em? Reality shows."
"Please tell me you recorded this thing," said the reporter. The technician nodded again.
Cameron fell hard on the ball, knocking the wind out of him. To make things worse, he had both hands secured tightly around the ball as he went down. He couldn't break his fall with his hands. His helmet struck the ground, violently jarring his head. He could feel the warm trickle of blood oozing from his nose. He was gasping for air as he felt someone roll him onto his back. Above him towered his coaches and teammates.
"Move back," said the team trainer. "Give him some room." Cameron felt silly lying there with all these people watching. When he started to get up, the trainer held him down and began to carefully remove his helmet. "Take a second to catch your breath, son," he said. Then, with a wink, he added, "Play this for the crowd."
"Did… did I score?"
The trainer shook his head. "Seven yards shy. But it was a helluva of a run."
Once Cameron was breathing easily and the trainer had stopped the bloody nose, he helped Cameron to his feet. The stands erupted with applause as Cameron walked to the sideline.
"Ya got lucky, kid," commented the coach as Cameron walked by. "Okay, offense on the field!"
Cameron's teammates slapped him on the back and banged shoulder pads in a show of congratulations. Except Chet's head butt was a little harder than it needed to be, and he snarled as he came face-to-face with Cameron. "At least ya didn't screw up, Rush."
"You mean like you? Wasn't he your man? Wasn't it your tackle he slid off of?"
Chet snarled again, his helmet driving hard against Cameron's. "Wait until…" Chet never got to finish his threat, for Cameron applied some basic physics. By taking one swift side step, he effectively removed the resistance (his helmet) from the applied force (Chet's helmet). Newton's laws of motion took over as Chet fell in the direction of his applied force, landing face down in the sod. As Cameron walked away, he heard the jeering laughs of his teammates. Laughs, for once, not directed at him.
That was the only play Cameron Rush made the entire game.
The defensive coach took Cameron aside in the locker room after the game. "Cameron, I want you on defense next year. You hear?" Coach Rausch said. "That wasn't luck at all, that was good, heads up ball playing. And if coach has half a brain — don't tell him I said that — he'd take a hard look at giving you a real shot on offense."
Cameron's parents and Billy Peters were waiting for him in the parking lot. His father gave him a congratulatory pat on the back. Billy managed to say, "Cool." Mary Rush was practically in tears as she clutched her son tightly. "Are you okay, hon? Are you hurt?"
Cameron appreciated his mother's concern, but his embarrassment outweighed his appreciation. He pushed away from his mother. "Geez, Mom. There's people around!" As he spoke, a small group of students came into view.
"Hey Cameron," called a girl in the group, "You coming to the dance?"
It was late Saturday afternoon before Rosa heard from Cameron.
"I thought you'd call after the game." Rosa sounded disappointed.
"I was going to," Cameron felt a twinge of guilt, "but I went to the dance afterwards."
There was an awkward silence. Rosa forced a smile. "Did you have fun?"
"I guess. I don't dance… uh… but it was sort of neat being treated like the hero for a change."
Rosa perked up with genuine enthusiasm. "Then you scored a touchdown?"
"You don't know?
"The video feed went dead."
"No. I was tackled on the seven yard line. I got the wind knocked out of me, and I got a bloody nose."
Rosa was puzzled. "But you were the hero?"
"Yeah. Our offense couldn't drive the ball in from the seven, so we kicked a field goal and ended up winning 3-0. Wanna know what's really weird?"
"¿Por que?"
"The local station watched the Bench Cam show last night and came to interview me today. That's why I didn't call this morning. Apparently our French-Canadian friend posted the password on his net site back in October. It seems I've been humiliating myself in front of thousands of strangers for weeks."
Rosa doubled over in laughter. "Way to go, Cheese Boy."
– End Chapter Six –
