“We know from experience, talent isn’t the problem.” I watch the Saints’ defense keep the Texas offense in check. “Decision-making is.”
“It’s one for the books,” Chet replies. “We’re heading into the half, and so far, I’ve only seen good decisions.”
“Don’t jinx us.” I smile at him, hoping to lighten the mood.
His eyes meet mine, and he forces a laugh.
Oh, brother.I wonder if anyone falls for his act. It’s so clear he’s not a fan. He’s not happy they’re doing well at all. I’m really proud of Knox tonight, and I don’t care one bit if it takes the drama out of this collab.Sorry, not sorry, Chet.
“Hang on… It looks like the offense is going to get another turn before the break.” His voice rises in anticipation. “The pressure is on, and we both know what that means.”
It means Knox needs more time, which he rarely has. I have to remember I call himK-Bradin my official capacity as the host ofGirl’s Got Game.
“O-line didn’t do him any favors in Miami.” I watch as they prepare for the snap. “Let’s see if they’ll create a pocket.”
“The clock is running down…” Chet fills the space with chatter, but we’re both waiting to see what happens with only seconds left.
The snap happens. Knox falls back, holding as he scans the field for an opening. My throat tightens at the clean shot of his face, his blue eyes wide and calculating. I can’t help remembering how I ran my tongue over his neck.
He’s so beautiful… and talented… and…
At the last second, he twists out of the path of the linebacker and starts to run forward.
“Is he going to hand it off?” Chet’s voice rises.
I know he’s not. I’ve watched him too closely for too long. He takes the sack as the clock runs out, and the buzzer sounds to break the game.
“The play was messy,” I observe, wishing it weren’t.
“That means the breakdown will be messier.” Chet laughs, turning his chair to face me. “Let’s get into it.”
We’ve got fifteen whole minutes to fill, and I look down at my hands, thinking of the best way to put it, keeping in mind what my fans want.
“Pressure isn’t his friend, but what we saw there was a failure of the line.”
“Hmm…” Chet leans back, his eyes catching that same light as when he asked me about Susan. “I’m not hearing you defending our favorite rookie, am I? You’re not going soft on us are you, QP?”
My eyes narrow. “No, Chet, simply reviewing what we saw here.” I force my shoulders to relax. “We both noted his good decision-making throughout the first half. If the receivers aren’t getting separation, at some point, you have to throw it away or take the sack.”
“Or…” Chet spins slightly as he leans into the camera, raising his voice. “Take the checkdown!”
My traitorous eyes flicker to the screen, and dozens of comments flood the space in all-caps readingTAKE THE CHECKDOWN!It’s the chant I started, and I stand by it. Still, I’m not letting this turn into a dogpile.
“Unless you toss it to a defensive lineman,” I counter, my muscles tense as I use his mistake to redirect the conversation. “Nothing’s lost on a sack going into the half. They’ll come back, and we can see if their earlier momentum holds.”
“Sounds like a good time to review the highlight reels.”
The show goes into Chet’s usual halftime run, and I excuse myself, claiming to need a bathroom break. When I get to the small space, I close the door and switch on the cold water, cupping some in my hand and drinking.
I shake my fingers and press them to the back of my neck. He’s playing really well. It’s undeniable. I’m not going soft. It’s not about the takedown, it’s about the hot take, and up to now, the hot take is Knox Bradford is showing he could have the career he deserves.
“Shit…” I whisper, pressing my fingers against my forehead. “I’m not going soft while the whole world watches. I’m a professional.”
Lindsey
You doing okay, QP?
Melody
