Page 106 of Made Better Together

Kick after kick goes right where I want. I don’t miss one in the warm-ups.

“Looking solid, Battle,” Jeremy acknowledges as we finish his standard routine.

“Thanks.”

“You probably know this, but you’ll be in a different position than most of the practice squad. They have specific instructions to mirror the plays of our next opponent. That’s obviously not relevant to us.” Kickers are kickers.

“Makes sense.” Jeremy’s time as the backup kicker—meaning he was on the practice squad during Del’s playing era—suddenly feels helpful. “Is there anything else I should know, if I make it as the backup?”

He pauses. “Always be prepared. Study the special teams players of the opposition, even if it’s unlikely you’ll play. There were a couple of times Del was sick or was dealing with a muscle tweak, and I had to step in.”

“Yes, absolutely, I can handle that.”

“Again, it’s different from the other members of the practice squad because they all have second or third stringers ahead of them on the official roster. But for our gig”—he grins—“it’s just you and me.”

The magnitude of the opportunity hits me. I really want this. I need this to work out.

That awareness sinks in deep, and my focus sharpens even more.

And it’s a good thing. Because an hour later, they sub me in to replace Jeremy for the full team scrimmage. My real true test.

Rawley comes over and bangs on my helmet as he runs off the field with the rest of the offense. “Go fucking show them what you’re about, Con.”

I have a shot at that, in this first play. They’ve set up a field goal attempt on the thirty-two. Very doable for me.

If I don’t fuck it up, that is.

“Okay, Battle, you ready?” Ernie asks. As punter, he holds the ball for the placekicker—Jeremy, and now me. A double duty for punters on many teams.

I nod and try to ignore the absolutely massive guys on the defensive side ready to chase me down. They can’t tackle me in practice, but they can distract me if they break through the line.

The play call is counted off, and my body is a live wire of nervous energy.

“HUT.” I start moving, stride, stride, stride.

As soon as the ball leaves my foot, I know it’s good. But there’s that split second while it flies in the air, when I always feel out of body, hoping it’s true to form.

This time, it fucking is. It sails through, dead center.

I did it.

“Nice job, Battle,” Ernie says next to me.

I twist my head to the sideline, catching sight of Landon and Rawley. There’s pure joy on their faces.

It’s only one practice kick, in a no-tackle scrimmage, but it’s a first, a new light, a fresh chance.

I make two more field goals in the scrimmage, and three extra-point kicks. No misses.

When I’m in the locker room getting dressed, Del walks in. “Come talk to me when you’re changed.” He slides out the door without any indication of what’s to come.

“That could be good, or could be bad,” Mike says next to me, grinning. “I have a feeling it’s going to be good.”

I hope so.

When I open the door to Del’s office, another guy is sitting there, in a button-down and slacks.

Del must see my anxiousness, because he starts talking as soon as he sees me.