The Separating White Line I glance up at the scoreboard; the clock reads 2:15 left in the fourth quarter. My team is down by 3 points; we have eighty-five yards to go, and have no time outs left. I yell out the cadence and the center snaps the oblong ball into my hands. Taking a short three-step drop I glance to my left. The only objects I see are two beefy defensive linemen bearing down on me. …showed first 75 words of 737 total…

…showed last 75 words of 737 total…you move like that all season. Can you do it again?” I shrug my shoulders and my coach slaps my helmet again. He yells, “Get some balls, Broussard, can you do that again?” I quickly nod my head, confirming I share his faith in me. The grin returns to my coach’s face and he explains a play he devised in his head seconds ago that should gain a quick couple of yards. “This should