Tackle

Jethro Gibbs settled back against the arena bleacher seat and scanned the stadium's animated crowd. The excitement of the match reverberated through the spectators, and cheerleaders for both Ohio State and Michigan, who had gotten the momentum going earlier, played to their side's crowds. Both fan groups voiced their conviction that they would experience a football victory that afternoon.

This game promised to provide entertainment for the rest of the year, because this was the match between Ohio State's Buckeyes and the team's chief rivals, the Michigan Wolverines. In other words, this was the game of games.

Gibbs grinned to himself and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his legs. Tony had played hard the previous three quarters, and now in the fourth, the score stood at thirteen to thirteen- an excruciating, nail biting tie.

The crowd screamed wildly- this game meant superiority, and both sides craved that designation.

The umpire blew his whistle decisively and the players re-engaged. Gibbs kept his eye on his son, who jogged backwards across the field, arms outstretched and beckoning as the football sailed down the field and into his grasp.

Unbelievably, that same football flew upwards a split second later as Tony slammed backwards, and it took his dad a few seconds to realize that Tony had been tackled and had lost his grip on the ball. Gibbs slid towards the edge end of his seat, listening to the announcer's voice clarify to the stadium that Tony had been stopped by a Brad Pitt, a junior like Tony, but a Wolverine.

The crowd strained to see and began murmuring as Gibbs took a better look at the field from his spectator vantage point. Tony still lay on his back, where he had landed after the tackle, and it appeared that his coach and several other men had begun running from the sidelines to where he lay.

Gibbs felt his gut churn, and he jumped out of his seat and raced down the concrete stadium steps until he slammed into the barricade blocking the viewers from getting onto the playing turf.

A security guard held out a hand and ordered him to stop, but Gibbs kept going, turning his head to call out, "My boy's out there. Tony's mine!"

The guard nodded his understanding and let him continue, waving towards the security man on the field to let him know to let Gibbs get to his son.

Several people knelt by Tony, and Gibbs slid to a stop and crouched down on the the turf. Tony's eyes were squinched closed but his expression reflected his pain. He had his jaw clenched, and had bitten down on the side of his lip, obviously trying to keep from screaming. He moaned, though, thrashing his head from side to side. He had his left leg bent to his chest and his arms wrapped around it, allowing the attendants to gain an unobstructed view of all of the injured right leg.

"Here I am, Son," Gibbs spoke softly, and reached over and rubbed Tony's cheek under his helmet.

Tony responded immediately at his father's touch, and when he opened his eyes it confirmed to Jethro that his son was in incredible pain.

Licking his lips, Tony spoke haltingly, grimacing in agony. "Daddy, it hurts a whole bunch." He reached up a hand and grasped the hem of his father's shirt.

Gibbs nodded, "I know, Son, but hang on because the doctor's checking you right now."

Tony bit his lip harder and repeated, "It hurts all the way up and down my leg, it hurts, hurts, Dad! Did I get it broken?"

The coach leaned over and put his hand on Jethro's shoulder. "Agent Gibbs, they're going to transport Tony to the hospital. Do you want to ride with him, or will you follow in your personal vehicle?"

The response was immediate, "I'm going with my child." Gibbs jerked his chin up and nodded seriously at the coach, then leaned down and patted Tony's arm to reassure him.

The coach smiled, "Ok, let me get our trainer, Michael Soloman, to drive your vehicle to the trauma center, then. That way you won't find yourself without transportation at the hospital when you decide to leave."

Gibbs glanced around the field. The two teams stood quietly at each side of the playing field observing the action in the middle. The spectators waited silently, watching to see whether Tony would get back up and finish the game. Several of Tony's friends, both male and female, thronged silently around the manicured edge of the playing area, waiting to hear an update. Finally, the announcer spoke over the loudspeaker to the stadium, assuring the crowd that Tony would be okay, but it looked as though his leg had been badly fractured. He would be transported to the hospital for immediate treatment.

As a testament to the esteem in which Tony ranked as an athlete, the fans on the Ohio side stood en mass as a tribute to him. Within seconds, the Michigan fans followed to honor their opponent, a superb athlete, as well. He had played hard, and given Michigan a run for its money.

Jethro pinched the bridge of his nose to control the flood of emotion that assailed him at the outpouring of affection for his son.

As Tony was loaded onto the stretcher and placed into the ambulance, Jethro turned over his keys to Michael and gave him directions to where the car was parked. Then he quickly climbed into the ambulance for the ride to the emergency room.

Tony moaned loudly and thrashed against the stretcher, and Gibbs could just look at him and see immediately that his right leg was badly broken. He couldn't easily tell about the rest of the damage, though. The ambulance attendant gently unsnapped Tony's helmet and pulled It off, gently lowering the young man's head to the pillow. Tony moved his head from side to side, thrashing against the pillow, consumed with pain.

Gibbs positioned himself so that he could physically lean over him and get him to try to focus elsewhere. "Tony, look up at me," he spoke softly.

Tony responded by shaking his head, and Gibbs repeated more firmly, reaching down to run his hand through Tony's bangs. "Anthony, look at me right now, right this minute."

Tony did then, and turned his attention onto his dad, breathing in shallow spurts and biting on his lip.

Gibbs desperately wished Ducky were there to reassure him. Even after years of his role as Tony's dad, the dad of a daredevil, at that, he still felt a surge of panic each time he realized his child had gotten hurt. It scared him to see his boy in so much pain with no way to ease it.

He gently started brushing back Tony's hair. "Look at me, Son, and listen to me, ok? Don't think about anything except me."

Tony listened, then quickly grimaced and groaned loudly as the team doctor pressed around his knee, but then focused on his father as instructed. Gibbs began talking to him as he rubbed his hair, and face, and arm. He had learned years before that when he could get his son to focus on him, it always resulted in calming the child.

Once they got to the hospital's emergency room, activity intensified, and Jethro didn't leave Tony for a second, wanting to make sure that Tony knew he had his father there with him.

The coach and team manager joined them within minutes, but then made their way to the medical facility's waiting room to settle until the doctor shared the news and treatment.

In the examination room the orderlies began cutting off Tony's uniform pants, working quickly to move him to x ray. The attending doctor made a cursory exam before telling Jethro to go, assuring Gibbs that he thought the leg was the only major damage, but that deep bruising, also, would develop. Not willing to let his dad out of his sight, Tony commenced arguing loudly about leaving for the radiology department, refusing to accept the doctor's reassurances that he would just leave his father's presence a very few minutes.

Gibbs felt his stomach lurch. Nevertheless, Jethro steeled himself to toughen his response. It was agonizing watching his child writing in pain in front of him, and the parent side wanted to soothe, to apply kisses and make it all better- immediately. The practical side of him understood, however, that the x rays would confirm the damage, and that Tony was making things worse with his reaction.

He cleared his throat, and ordered firmly, "Tony, don't let me hear you arguing with the doctor again. Go right now to x ray, like you've been told. They need to see how bad the break is, and where the bone fractured. I will not leave here, Son, and will be right in the same spot when you get back. Ok?"

Tony shook his head no, and Gibbs spoke sharply, "I will not repeat myself, Son. I just told you to do something, and I expect you to obey."

Tony caught that tone of voice and acquiesced, but looked at his father with a hurt expression and his lip puffed out into a pout.

Jethro felt as if he'd been sucker punched. He leaned over quickly and whispered, "Daddy's right here, Tony," then kissed the top of his head. "You know I can't go into radiology with you, Son. You'll get through within a few minutes, and I'll be right here waiting for you when you return, ok?"

Tony looked relieved, and he shook his head affirmatively, but didn't verbally reply. The pain exhausted him.