Page 67 of Lowering His Guard

“Nobody,” Tanner hedges.

“How is—”

“It’s from yesterday.”

I grunt.

Tanner drops a quarter in the jar. “See? It works.”

Laughter breaks out amongst my teammates. I fight a smile. Tanner is a pain in my ass, but he’s amusing. Sometimes.

Coach Knox enters. He frowns at the jar. “What’s that for?”

“Team building,” Tanner immediately answers.

Knox shakes his head. “As you were,” he mutters before opening the door to his office.

“At least we solved the mystery of why Tanner was early to practice today,” Gage says.

We finish changing and march onto the field. We spend some time warming up before Coach Knox blows the whistle to gather the offensive line together.

“Ball’s on the one.” He points toward the end zone. “No tricks. No motion. No cute shit. I want power football.”

He looks directly at me. “Porter.”

I nod. I already know the assignment.

I line up a few yards behind Nolan. The quarterback takes the snap and I explode forward. My job isn’t to carry the ball. It’s to obliterate the linebacker standing between the running back and the goal line.

I use my helmet, my shoulder, my legs to drive my body forward. I collide with the linebacker and keep going. Gage follows my block all the way to the end zone.

Coach blows the whistle. “Again!”

It’s the same play but a different defender. We collide with a large boom. I manage to drive the linebacker three yards back. Not good enough.

“Again!” Coach yells.

We run the play another time before Coach switches me out for Raven.

I stand on the sideline to watch the play. I wonder how May would experience this. Would she understand how football is more than brute force? How it’s also tactics and grind?

Nolan takes the snap and I force my concentration back to the field. Raven hesitates. He lets the linebacker slip underneath him. Gage gets stopped at the line.

Coach blows the whistle. He points at me. “Porter!”

I jog back in. I don’t complain. I don’t sigh. I don’t do drama. This is my job. What I was meant to do. What I love to do.

“Again!”

This time I hit the linebacker before he can build momentum. Tanner scores.

Coach nods. He doesn’t praise us. He never does on the field. But his nod is as good as any praise. “Again!”

The rookies are dying. They’re drenched in sweat. Their hands are on their knees. The linemen are gasping. Someone makes retching sounds.

Coach doesn’t care. He keeps pushing. Keeps telling us to reset. Keeps telling us to go again and again.

I’m breathing hard, too. I’m sweating, too. I can practically feel the bruises forming on my body. But I don’t give up. I don’t stop. When Coach says again, I reset. Put my hands on my thighs, eyes forward, and wait.