Chapter 6

Monday, we were playing our first full scrimmage in pads and everything, trying to get as close to a real game as possible playing against our defensive linemen. Our first game was on Thursday, which didn’t give us much time to get ready. The time between our first practice and our first game was really short! Just a week into the school year. It was pretty stressful, and probably one of the big reasons why they liked putting all the freshmen on the freshman team. There just wasn’t time for us to get ready before the season started.

We’d already run three plays and had picked up some yardage, which was getting the defense yelled at again.

“Okay, let’s try that again,” Coach Heidemann said, blowing his whistle.

We were pulled to the sidelines in between each play so the coaches could go through what we did right or wrong each time before giving us the next play. Although Coach Heidemann had us and Coach Plummer had the defense, I think they knew what the other was planning.

I jogged up to the line of scrimmage and got behind Tyrell, looking down either side of the line to make sure everyone was set. We were on the game clock, just like we would be in an actual game, so I couldn’t take too long. Thankfully, everyone was where they needed to be.

“Set! Hut!” I barked, and Tyrell snapped the ball clean.

I dropped back and looked down the field. Elijah was my first read, out wide, sprinting down the sideline. He was fast, and for a second, I thought he might break free. But just as quickly, Gary, the other cornerback, came up fast behind him, staying glued to Elijah. There was no way I could make the connection there, not without the ball getting knocked away.

I shifted to my next read, checking the pocket out of my peripheral vision and seeing Connor was holding his block, but barely. I’d probably only get one more read before the pocket collapsed.

I found Miguel, who’d managed to break free from his coverage and was making a move down the middle of the field. I cocked my arm back and fired a bullet his way. I knew I was going to hit him in stride as soon as the ball left my hand. He reached his hands out and got the ball, pulling it in, when Aidan came tearing in out of nowhere, smashing into Miguel from behind like a freight train. Miguel’s head whipped back, and it looked like he was going to fold in half backward.

The ball bounced free, tumbling across the grass as Miguel crumpled to the ground. Aidan picked it up and started running with it all the way to the end zone, raising his arms in the air like a victor, while the rest of us, minus Elijah and the rest of the jerks, gathered around Miguel as one of the trainers came over.

Thankfully, as soon as the trainer got there, Miguel stirred and rolled over on his side. Mr. Romero, the trainer, still made him come off the field and helped him to the training room after making sure he could move on his own and hadn’t actually broken his back.

I don’t think Aidan and the rest realized how much everyone else, not just me and the other walk-on guys, but all of the freshman team, glared at them as they came back, whooping and hollering in victory over Aidan’s touchdown. Coach blew his whistle, and we all headed back to the sidelines.

“If you would have thrown to me, we would have made the completion,” Elijah said, catching up to me. “Open your damn eyes.”

“Shut up, Elijah. Your teammate’s injured. This isn’t the time for that.”

“This is practice, jackass. This is exactly what we’re here for.”

I stopped and turned on him just as we reached the sideline, poking a finger at him as I said, “I didn’t throw it to you because Gary was on your ass, and you were too slow to break away from him. And what really matters is that Aidan hit one of his own guys with a cheap shot. Or did you guys forget whose damn team you’re on?”

“I’m about to forget...”

“Enough, both of you!” Coach Heidemann yelled. “Get your asses over here.”

When we joined the rest of the offensive line, he said, “Hits like that can happen, and they will in a real game. What matters is you hold on to the ball until the whistle blows. That’s the priority, protect the ball and keep possession! It’s also important to protect your team. You other guys not in the play, you have to call out when your guy can’t see a player coming at them. And if you are the one getting the ball, you have to keep your head on a swivel. Always be aware of what’s happening around you! Don’t let yourself get blindsided like that. Likewise, Blake, you gotta keep an eye on the whole field, not just your receivers. See what’s developing and don’t throw into something like that.”

“Sorry, Coach,” I said.

“It’s okay. Aidan did a good job tracking the throw and diverting from his man and to where the ball would be. We have to anticipate what the other guys are going to do and adjust as needed. Let’s keep going with a running play this time, twenty-two iso left, behind Nielsen.”

Jamal nodded, looking to Connor, who he’d be following through the hole, hoping to break through their line and into open ground.

We lined up again and I called the play. Tyrell snapped the ball back into my hands. I stepped back like I was going to throw, and then dropped the ball down, putting it into Jamal’s stomach as he ran past me, wrapping his arms over the ball.

He took off like a bullet, following behind Connor, who smashed into one of the defensive backs, opening a small gap for Jamal, who blasted through it. Unfortunately, the defense knew exactly where we were going to be, and they’d shifted right, our left, to have stronger defense on that side. Jamal was fast, but there wasn’t nearly enough room for him to break through.

Worse, Mason was the back closest to him, putting his head down and launching himself at Jamal. Just like Aidan had in the last play, he put everything into it. Way too much, in fact. The two of them collided with a sickening crunch, Mason’s arms wrapping around Jamal’s waist as he drove him to the ground, almost like he was trying to put him through the ground.

Jamal’s legs flew out from under him, his body twisting as he tried to break free. But Mason held tight, his helmet smashing into Jamal’s and causing it to bounce hard against the ground.

Like Miguel, he didn’t get up right away, probably from having his head rattled around too much inside the helmet. Coach blew his whistle, and everyone pulled up as the trainer ran out to check on Jamal, who thankfully started moving and was half up by the time a trainer got to him.

I jogged over to Jamal as he dusted himself off. “You okay, man?”

“Yeah, just got the wind knocked out of me,” he said, although he was favoring his side a bit, and I knew it was probably worse than he was letting on.

I saw Mason and the other guys headed to Coach Plummer, and I decided I’d had enough of their bullshit. Instead of going with the rest of the offensive line to Coach Heidemann, I veered off, intercepting Mason. Jake saw me coming and gave a warning shout as I got to them.

“What the hell, man?” I said, getting in his way, intercepting him.

“What’s your problem, Sims?”

“My problem? You and Aidan keep smashing into people like you’re trying to take them out before the game even starts. That’s my problem.”

Mason took a step closer, almost chest-to-chest with me. “That’s football, genius. Maybe your little buddies should toughen up.”

“You’re hitting them harder than you hit anyone else. You think I can’t see that?”

He laughed, leaning his head back a bit, making a show out of it. “You’re imagining things. Maybe if you weren’t such a little...”

I shoved him, hard enough that he had to take a step to catch himself. “You think this is funny? What if Miguel or Jamal can’t play on Thursday because of you?”

Mason’s face twisted in rage and he shoved me back, harder than I had pushed him. “You don’t tell me how to play, Sims. Just because you’re the quarterback doesn’t mean you’re leading shit.”