“That’s not going to happen,” my friend laughs, shaking his head. “If that’s how you feel, you gotta go full blackout. Head down. Focus on the game. Starve her out of your system.”
At least one thing is going right for me as we head into the new season. The coaches listened, and I’ve got my boys Baker and Kyler with me now.
Our offensive line is finally coming together. Fonz, Gill, and Etienne create a pocket, and my boys are just waiting downfield to receive.
We’ve been practicing hard since mid-July, and with the first game right around the corner, I’m ready to do as Baker said. I’ll block out all that shit, focus on the game, and flush the Quarterback Princess out of my mind.
The stands surrounding our practice field are fuller than they were during last year’s training camp. It’s the hottest time of the year, yet the place is full of local fans coming out to watch, and as we make our way to the locker room, I can’t help wondering if it has to do with that podcast.
As annoying as it is, they’re engaged, which is a good thing, I guess.
“These guys are loving it.” Fonz walks beside us, nodding at the spectators slowly making their way to the parking area. “You should find out something about her and start dishing back.”
“Not interested.” I shake my head.
“What?” He laugh-cries. “You’re the biggest joker I know. Where’s your sense of humor?”
It’s a good question, and he’s right. Ihavealways been able to joke around, tease. Why does this amateur behind a mic make me so angry?
“I think I lost it when I becameK-Brad.” Idiotic nickname.
Don’t get me wrong, I love being on the team, representing the city, being in the spotlight. I don’t care for being a “public figure.” That phrase just gets thrown around a lot to excuse crossing lines and invading our privacy.
“I don’t believe that.” Fonz pulls his jersey over his head and heads for the showers. “You’re the king of nicknames.”
I guess I did name himThe Fonz, but that’s because he’s cool under pressure. It’s a compliment, not a cutdown.
“Knox is smart to stay out of it,” Baker argues. “She’s got a mic, a platform. The best revenge is winning games. Who’s with me?”
We all yell, clapping hands. The team is coming together, and we can all feel it. It has us all excited to face the Cardinals.
Baker was always my go-to receiver in Tuscaloosa. Every time I needed him, he would appear. We won two national championships together, and he would’ve come with me last year. He wanted to finish his degree first, not that I blame him.
I was a year ahead, so it made sense. Having a backup plan is a must in this game. You never know when you might have to start all over again.
“Maybe if you went and talked to her?” Etienne stands beside me looking down as he pulls out clean clothes. “My grandma said a lot of times people just want to be heard. Maybe if you asked what she wanted to say to you, she’d say it, and that would be the end.”
“Who are you, freaking Mother Teresa?” Fonz teases him loudly, but Etienne has always been a steady presence on theteam. “That girl isn’t about making peace. She’s about going viral, and she’s got that shit on lock.”
I can’t argue with that. “Yeah, I think she’s saying what she needs to say every week.”
My friend shrugs, and the conversation drifts to what everybody’s doing this weekend. Although I dismissed it, Etienne’s suggestion sticks in my brain. I don’t know how I could talk to her. I don’t even know who she is in real life.
It’s probably all a big joke to her like Fonz said, and my reactions make it even funnier. Sort of like when I flirt with Dove, and Maverick goes from love-sick puppy to Hulk monster. The memory makes me snort a laugh.
Or maybe she really is a disgruntled fan trying to get my attention. What if all it took was giving it to her and stealing her motivation?
* * *
Standing in a crouch,I hold my hands at the height of my chest.
We’re playing on real grass in Glendale, facing off against the Cardinals for the first game of the season. The top of the stadium is open, and it’s hot and dry like an oven.
From the outside, the curvy metal stadium gives the impression of a giant, industrial bee hive. We’re buzzing with adrenaline and anticipation. We won the toss, which means Arizona got the ball first.
My mind drifts to images of bees moving in time, focused on a goal, filling those tiny pockets in preparation for the long, cold winter. Drunk on springtime sugar.
We’re at peak performance this year. Our defense is outperforming under the new coach. They form a wall, and the Cardinals quarterback can’t make any progress.
