The Lake Orion Miracle

I saw three games last night. All of which occurred in the same sixty minutes. And none of which I believe.

The last of the three games--the one that lasted roughly 12 seconds--may not ever cross my threshold and enter the world of reality. When so many things that had to happen, happen--all in a certain way, and all in succession--you have to rule out simple coincidence. Then you rule out lucky chance. Then you rule out the refs, the partisan timekeepers, the crown of the field and finally, in the rare case of the Little Brown Jug, the likelihood that someone affiliated with the opposing team had contaminated your team's water supply with biological impurities.

You're left with only one conclusion. God wanted Lake Orion High School to win.

Sorry, Sterling Heights Stevenson. Feel free to bring your best counterpoint, but that's what you'll be up against.

Here's a recap of Game 1 and Game 2, to set the stage for Game 3:

GAME 1
Score: Lake Orion 35, Stevenson 7.
Duration: Opening kickoff to halfway mark of third quarter

The Titans raced to a quick 7-0 lead and were driving again before fumbling the ball over. Lake Orion's offense took over from there, grinding out 229 yards on the ground by halftime. Kim Bruce led the attack with 90 first-half yards, on his way to 147 for the three games, on 24 carries.

Mike Nelson hauled in a 4-yard pass from 15-year-old freshman quarterback Sean Charette to give the Dragons a 21-7 lead at intermission. One 32-yard gallop by Branden Oakes and one blocked punt return later, Lake Orion led by a staggering 28 points. 5:57 remained in the third quarter. And Stevenson fans began to exit the stands, unaware of the two games that would follow.

GAME 2
Score: Stevenson 36, Lake Orion 35
Duration: Six-minute mark of third quarter to final :12 of fourth

Jason Fracassa, Sterling Heights' laser-armed junior, was having as good a day as any quarterback at the short end of a 35-7 score could be having. He was hitting receivers, only to have passes dropped or broken up. He was airing it out, tossing long, tight spirals into the evening air when his line provided him the chance. Most notably, the 37-yard heat-seeking missle that landed in the arms of wideout D.J. Mershman for the first points of Game 1.

As Game 2 began, his opponent was ripe for the picking. And Fracassa, grandson of Birmingham Brother Rice's legendary coach Al Fracassa--no stranger to the pressure of state playoffs himself--went to work. He fired a 20-yard sling-shot to Thomas Beaurem to cut the lead to 35-13, then hit tailback Justice Wright for two points. 35-15. He found Mershman over the middle and hot-knifed the buttery Dragon defense for a 48-yard scoring strike. 35-23. After another three-and-out by Lake Orion, he led the Titans down the field, with Wright covering the final five yards off-tackle right. 35-29. Then, with the Dragons deflated and down, he finished a drive that started with an interception by sneaking in from less than a yard out with 3:43 remaining. The extra point sailed up and through. 35-36.

The stands erupted. The Stevenson bench erupted. Somewhere in northern California, the needle on a seismograph blipped. "Did what just happen, happen?" thought every player in a white jersey, as well as their parents, siblings, friends and fellow students.

The Dragons frantically tried to undo a quarter and a half of do, but the tank sputtered and officially ran out with 1:44 on the clock, as an errant fourth-down pass sailed into the ground. The Titans took over at the Lake Orion 44, with one Dragon timeout in their way. "It's over, they won't get the ball back," the guy next to me said as he left.

I bought into my friend's miscalculation, not thinking that it's virtually impossible for 104 seconds to come off the clock after two plays. I had figured that Stevenson would at least try for a first down (Thing That Had To Happen #1). But Fracassa took a quick knee on the first play, expending :01. The second play took about as much time, running the clock down under a minute. Then, on third down, Fracassa scrambled around in the backfield, chewing up as much time as possible, before being tackled for a substantial loss, surrendering massive amounts of field position (Thing That Had To Happen #2). By the time the play clock ran down and the Titans called timeout, only :12 remained. The Stevenson fans had emptied from the stands and began to line the cyclone fence in anticipation of the on-field celebration.

None of them knew there was still one more game to be played.

GAME 3
Score: Lake Orion 38, Stevenson 36
Duration: 12 seconds

The timeout (Thing That Had To Happen #3) allowed Dragon coach Chris Bell precious to rally his offense together and formulate a plan for their final one or two plays. Sterling Heights Stevenson was a squib punt away from a regional championship. Nothing pretty, just a wobbly, bouncing, rolling kick, the kind that eats up twelve seconds of clock.

Instead the punter popped it up (Thing That Had To Happen #4), allowing senior Charles Fleck to call for a fair catch (Thing That Had To Happen #5) with 9.2 seconds remaining. The punt that could have ended the game took less than three seconds off the clock. And Lake Orion had the ball on their own 40-yard line, just four yards from where they surrendered it moments before. Yet miles from anything resembling victory.

Charette dropped back and looked for Fleck. To his surprise, the Titan defense was spread down the field, protecting itself from what was sure to be a "Hail Mary" lob toward the end zone. In so doing, it was leaving the medium sideline routes to single coverage (Thing That Had To Happen #6). Getting sufficient protection from his line (Thing That Had To Happen #7), Charette planted and threw a dart to Fleck, who caught the ball (Thing That Had To Happen #8) as he turned toward the sideline. The Stevenson defender, who had the space and the wherewithal to bring the receiver down, instead pushed him out of bounds (Thing That Had To Happen #9), leaving 2.5 seconds on the scoreboard clock.

Fleck's progress was marked at the 32-yard line (Thing That Had To Happen #10), within the realm of a field goal try however unlikely. In fact, a long pass was only thought as my son and I watched from the Sterling Heights sideline (he had convinced me to leave and beat traffic, but just before walking out of the gate I convinced him to watch the last few seconds). The pass to Fleck put them close enough where they could put the ball into the end zone, and at least give them a chance.

Then Coach Bell trotted out senior kicker/wideout/cornerback/kickoff returner Jeff Heath and the rest of his field goal unit (Thing That Had To Happen #11). Although I had not seen them enough to pass judgement, I witnessed enough fourth-and-long situations where going for it was seen to be the best option. I didn't think the kid could hit the end zone much less the uprights. They at least had a chance with a thrown ball; this move was a waive of the white flag.

The holder was kneeling down at the 39 1/2 yard line. This was basically a 50-yard kick. A kick from that distance causes fans to hold their breath at NFL games. Unsure of the accuracy of their professional kicker. Many times, in the comfort of a domed stadium. This was a 17-year-old boy who didn't instill enough confidence in his own coach to be given the chance to attempt so much as a 40-yarder. A boy now being asked by his coach to kick a 49-yard, last-second field goal in a winter drizzle, to win his school's second-ever regional championship. Um, gulllllllllllllllp.

Pressed up against the cyclone fence, surrounded by giddy Sterling Heights high school students, we watched from about the 10-yard line as the ball was snapped, spotted and kicked. It was a mean-looking end-over-end ball, the type that go higher than long when I kick 'em. But this one kept going... and going. It wouldn't drop, it just sailed like a thrown tomahawk. I watched it clear the crossbar (Thing That Had To Happen #12). The referees looked at each other and threw their arms up in the air. Good. Good? Good... GOOD!

I went to scream and nothing came out. My son looked at me like, "Now what?" as if they still needed to do something else before the game ended. I looked up and saw the Lake Orion stands pour onto the field like a pitcher of cream tipping over. I grabbed my boy and headed straight for the gate that opened up to the field. We darted through fans that were still registering what they had just witnessed, whooping and hollering all the way.

The scene on the field looked as if I had ran onto the field with an AK-47 assault rifle. Stevenson players were scattered all over the artificial playing surface, some kneeling, others lying flat on their backs. And most of them sobbing uncontrollably. Lake Orion players took turns hugging each other, hugging anyone they saw. Tears streamed down their faces. Cheerleaders were weaping with joy. It took nearly five minutes for the team to regain its composure enough to shake hands with their opponents at midfield.

I ran into the kicker's parents and asked them if they'd ever seen their kid kick it that far. They said the coach doesn't like field goals so he's never had the chance. Heath himself claimed to have kicked a ball 30, maybe 40 yards before, but never 49. "I just tried to kick it as hard as I could. I've never even tried one that long."

The kids, their friends and their families remained on the field for another hour. They improvised a team photo at the 50. The coaches went from microphone to microphone, trying to capture with words what they're not entirely sure they just saw with their own two eyes.

I've been watching football for nearly forty years. I've never seen an ending like that. The '82 Stanford-Cal game comes close. I actually watched the Immaculate Reception live, which still stands as the single most improbable play I've ever witnessed. I didn't know what happened even after I saw it. But this one beats them all.