Chapter 17

As good as Thursday’s game went, at least my quarter of it, Saturday’s game was a disaster. Jorden struggled the entire time, with four interceptions and a botched handoff, the last of which turned into a touchdown for the other team.

I was actually glad I got a chance to observe the game in person because the level of competition was way more intense than I was used to. Since it wasn’t just freshmen, the guys were all generally bigger and faster than the teams I’d faced so far this year.

Our defensive players were monsters, and the only reason the game ended with a 7 to 0 loss. They crushed the other team’s offensive line time and time again, getting three sacks against their QB.

Our offensive line, while fine, was not up to the same level, but they did well enough. Jorden did get sacked once, but it was because he just sat in the pocket, even as it collapsed on him, instead of staying mobile. I know that was the playbook we ran, to stay in the pocket and follow your reads till the last moment, throwing the ball away if it got too bad.

I even got the point of that. Scrambling could lead to sacks and fumbles, instead of tossing the ball out of bounds and stopping the clock. But it also threw away our down and brought us one step closer to having to clear the field for the defense, which I never wanted to do, especially when I could see room to get out of the way and stay on my reads.

Today was my first real practice with the JV starters. I’d been with the second string all of the previous week to give Jorden the time he needed to try and pull out the last game. It hadn’t worked, but I knew why the coaches did it. I was excited for today, to really get into it, playing with the other JV starters, who were mostly sophomores with some juniors and a couple of seniors mixed in. Nervous, but excited.

“Look who decided to grace us with his presence,” someone called out as I joined the rest of the guys stretching while Coach Holloway talked to varsity on their part of the field. “Peewees play at Frazier Park.”

The other guys chuckled at the snub. Compared to the bullshit I’d had to deal with Elijah, I could deal with a little ribbing. I was the new guy and a freshman to boot, so it was to be expected.

I kept my head down and started my stretches, trying to ignore the side-eyes and jokes. The worst thing I could do was take it personally. They’d see it as blood in the water, and I’d become free game. More concerning was Jorden, who was off to my left, aggressively stretching his hamstrings and pointedly not looking in my direction. I could only imagine how he was taking my replacing him.

After about fifteen minutes, Coach Holloway blew his whistle and yelled, “Alright, gentlemen, bring it in!”

We jogged over to form a half-circle around him where I ended up near the back, which was probably for the best.

“I know you saw him out here last week, but starting this week, we’ve officially made the change to our roster, and Blake will be taking over as starting quarterback for the rest of the season.”

The muttering started immediately, but I still ignored it, keeping my eyes on Coach.

“I know it’s unusual to have a freshman on the team, let alone starting, but talent and dedication deserve recognition regardless of grade level, and I think we can all agree we’d like to start winning some games sometime this year. I expect everyone to work together and give Blake the same support you’d give any teammate.”

“Sure thing, Coach,” Brandon Porter, a junior defensive tackle said. “Though somebody better check their diaper, smells like freshman around here.”

A few snickers rippled through the group.

When it died down, I said, “It’s gonna suck when this freshman shows you guys up.”

There were a lot of ‘oohhhs’ and some genuine laughter instead of snickers, this time directed at Brandon, who didn’t crack a smile.

“Alright, enough comedy hour,” Coach barked. “Receivers with Blake for passing drills. Rest of you split up by position. Varsity has the field first.”

As we broke into groups, I grabbed a ball and started warming up my arm. I’d been doing drills in the backyard when I wasn’t doing homework and spent some extra time Sunday afternoon at it. I knew this was a big step for me and I wanted to make as good of an impression as possible. It was hard to get a read on the receivers, who had a varying degree of enthusiasm.

“Let’s see what you got, freshman,” Dwight Baker said, setting up for the first route I was going to throw.

I watched as he ran the sloppiest post pattern I’d ever seen. It wasn’t hard to see what he was doing. He was testing me, trying to throw me off my game. But I’d practiced and played with Wayne, who was unintentionally just as erratic. So, throwing to someone who couldn’t seem to run their route wasn’t something I was completely unused to.

I released the ball just as he made his cut, hitting him perfectly in stride. Dwight turned back, trying to hide his surprise.

“Lucky throw,” he said as he got back to me and tossed me the ball.

“Sure was,” I agreed, already setting up for the next pass. “Want to try your luck again?”

For the next twenty minutes, we ran through the route tree with each of the wide receivers. I also had the tight ends for a bit to give them some chances at receiving short lobs. They even stopped messing with me after a few goes, mostly because Coach Easley, the offensive coordinator, told them to knock off the horse shit and do it right, or he’d swap them for their backups.

Unlike Elijah, who would have taken that personally, they brushed it off and started trying. This wasn’t mind games or trying to one-up anyone. They were just hazing the new guy, which I could deal with.

Varsity finally finished up and was ready to go to the coordinators, which meant we finally got a chance to scrimmage under the eye of Coach Holloway.

As we walked to the twenty-yard line, where we’d be running plays, Kevin Dean walked past and said, “Nice arm, freshman. But let’s see how you do when you’ve got real pressure coming at you.”

“Looking forward to it.”

Actually, I was. The only way I was going to prove to them that I belonged there, was on the field.

Coach Holloway blew a whistle as soon as we were all roughly in our starting positions. “First series is all passing plays. Give Blake a chance to get settled before we start prepping the actual plays for this weekend.”

What he meant was he wanted to see how I’d handle real pressure. As the defense lined up, I could see Kevin grinning behind his face mask. A junior on defense, and probably one who’d move to varsity next year, he was part experience and part skill, enough that he felt it was up to him to show the new guy what was up.

Challenge accepted.

The center snapped the ball, and immediately, I felt pressure from the left side. I’d already seen, from watching JV play, that the offensive line was much weaker than the defensive line. I’d thought I’d been ready for it, but the pocket started shrinking faster than I expected, even accounting for the imbalance. Whether that was on purpose or just a skill imbalance, I started to roll left to avoid being caught in it while I kept my eyes downfield.

I juked and just missed a tackle from Randy Killam, one of the defensive tackles, and was thinking about saying screw it and trying to make for the sidelines to see if I could pick up some yards before the line fell apart completely when Mickey Evans, one of the wide receivers, broke free of his coverage.

I hit him in stride for a clean fifteen yards as hands grabbed me around the waist, enough to tell me I was tackled, without actually taking me to the ground, which wasn’t allowed in practice for obvious reasons.

A few whoops came from the offensive line, and Mickey was smiling as he tossed the ball back to Andre Price, our center.

“Let’s see you do it again,” one of the linebackers, whose name I didn’t remember at the moment, said.

Not everything was perfect. The next play went south fast. The defense crashed through almost immediately, and I had to throw it away before taking a sack, well a touch that would have been a sack if it had been allowed. I got it out of bounds and kept it from being a turnover, but that was just about the only good thing I’d managed that play.

“What happened to showing us up?” Brandon said as we lined up for the next snap.

I didn’t respond, focusing instead on reading the defense. They were showing blitz again, and I could see my guys eyeing each other, all but confirming they were not pushing hard, letting the defense through to test me.

Again, not malicious, but definitely hazing to see how I’d hold up.

As soon as I got the ball, the pocket started collapsing again, this time from the right. I made my reads as fast as I could, and everything was covered. I didn’t just want to throw it away again, so I scrambled left, hoping someone would break free.

Thankfully, someone did.

Dwight, a junior I didn’t really know other than by name, got free of his coverage as he ran on a deep post route. I didn’t even think about it, or the guys closing in on me. I just let it fly, sending the ball spiraling to him for a twenty-five-yard pass.

He held it up and ran around whooping like he’d just scored, instead of stopping on completion like we were supposed to. Coach blew his whistle, calling us all back to the sideline.

“Damn,” Kevin said, pulling off his helmet as he walked past. “Alright, you might have some game.”

“A little,” I said, grinning back at him.

This was what football was supposed to be. Competitive and fun. We could play hard, try to crush the other guy, and laugh about it after. It was a breath of fresh air after all the bullshit Elijah had put me through.

“Not bad, Blake,” Coach Holloway said as we gathered back in. “You’re handling the pressure well, but remember, scrambling is a last resort, not your first option. Sometimes, you need to trust your protection and let the play develop.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, though I noticed he wasn’t exactly telling me to stop doing it.

Besides, my protection had let them through on purpose, to see what I’d do. I thought it was just for the moment and I hoped it wouldn’t last, but I’d trust them as soon as they showed me they were playing for real.

“Alright, let’s get back to running the playbook. We’re still a running team, and that’s going to be our focus, but I don’t want the receivers getting complacent out there. If Blake shows us he can do this on the field this weekend, we might start working in some additional passes.”

From the corner of my eye, I could see Jorden glower and look over at me, like it was my fault he hadn’t been able to do his job. I wasn’t trying to show him up. I was just trying to do my best and make the most of the opportunity I’d been given.

Thankfully, everyone else seemed to be much more rational and the rest of the practice went off beautifully. The offensive line stopped letting the defense through on purpose, and I started to get real looks from the few passing plays we ran.

Our defensive line was still better than the offensive line, and it was a challenge, but I didn’t have any more reason to scramble the rest of the afternoon.

All in all, a good start to my time on JV.

Things went pretty well the next few days. The hazing more or less stopped, although they found plenty of opportunities to continue the kind of ball-busting that was a part of every sport. Lots of references to me being a child, needing my mommy, and a random pacifier in my locker were about par for the course, but I didn’t take it to heart.

They didn’t give me any more shit than anyone else. Well, maybe that wasn’t true, but it was mostly because I was both the newest guy and being a freshman made me a particularly easy target.

On the field was where it mattered, and they stopped testing me and started trusting me. My football IQ was still lower than I wanted it to be, and I had a lot of studying ahead of me to get there. Not just studying our own playbook, but reviewing tapes and learning how to read the players.