Second Down - Chapter 17

As good as Thursday’s game went, at least my quarter of it, Saturday’s game was a disaster. Jorden struggled the entire time, with four interceptions and a botched handoff, the last of which turned into a touchdown for the other team.

I was actually glad I got a chance to observe the game in person because the level of play competition was way more intense. Since it wasn’t just freshmen, the guys were all generally bigger and faster than the teams I’d faced so far this year.

Our defense were monsters, and the only reason the game ended with a seven to zero loss. They crushed the other team’s offensive line time and time again, getting three sacks against their QB.

Our offensive line, while fine, was not up to the same level, but they did good enough. Jorden did get sacked once, but it was because he just sat in the pocket, even as it collapsed on him, instead of staying mobile. I know that was the playbook we ran, to stay in the pocket and follow your reads till the last moment, throwing the ball away if it got too bad.

I even got the point of that. Scrambling could lead to sacks and fumbles, instead of tossing the ball out of bounds and stopping the clock. But it also threw away our down and brought us one step closer to having to clear the field for the defense, which I never wanted to do, especially when I could see room to get out of the way and keep on my reads.

Today was my first real practice with JV. I’d been with the second string all of the previous week to give Jorden the time he needed to try and pull out the last game. It hadn’t worked, but I knew why the coaches did it. I was excited for today, to really get into it, playing with the other JV starters, who were mostly sophomores with some juniors and a couple of seniors mixed in. Nervous, but excited.

“Look who decided to grace us with his presence,” someone called out as I joined the rest of the guys stretching while Coach Holloway talked to varsity on their part of the field. “Peewee’s played at Frazier Park.”

The other guys chuckled at the snub. Compared to the bullshit I’d had to deal with Elijah, I could deal with a little ribbing. I was the new guy and a freshman to boot, so it was to be expected.

I kept my head down and started my stretches, trying to ignore the side-eyes and jokes. The worst thing I could do was take it personally. They’d see it as blood in the water, and I’d become free game. More concerning was Jorden, who was off to my left, aggressively stretching his hamstrings and pointedly not looking my direction. I could only imagine how my replacing him was going to be taken.

After about fifteen minutes, Coach Holloway blew his whistle and yelled, “Alright, gentlemen, bring it in!”

We jogged over to form a half-circle around him where I ended up near the back, which was probably for the best.

“I know you saw him out here last week, but starting this week we’ve officially made the change to our roster, and Blake will be taking over as starting quarterback for the rest of the season.”

The muttering started immediately, but I still ignored it, keeping my eyes on coach.

“I know it’s unusual to have a freshman on the team, let alone starting, but talent and dedication deserve recognition regardless of grade level, and I think we can all agree we’d like to start winning some games sometime this year. I expect everyone to work together and give Blake the same support you’d give any teammate.”

“Sure thing, Coach,” Brandon Porter, a junior defensive tackle said. “Though somebody better check their diaper, smells like freshman around here.”

A few snickers rippled through the group.

When it died down I said, “It’s gonna suck when this freshman shows you guys up.”

There were a lot of ‘oohhhs’ and some genuine laughter instead of the snickers, this time directed at Brandon, who didn’t crack a smile.

“Alright, enough comedy hour,” Coach barked. “Receivers with Blake for passing drills. Rest of you split up by position. Varsity has the field first.”

As we broke into groups, I grabbed a ball and started warming up my arm. I’d been doing drills in the backyard when I wasn’t doing homework and spent some extra time Sunday afternoon at it. I knew this was a big step for me and I wanted to make as good of an impression as possible. It was hard to get a read on the receivers, who had a varying degree of enthusiasm.

“Let’s see what you got, freshman,” Dwight Baker said, setting up for the first route I was going to throw to.

I watched as he ran the sloppiest post pattern I’d ever seen. It wasn’t hard to see what he was doing. He was testing me, trying to throw me off my game. But, I’d practiced and played with Wayne, who was unintentionally just as erratic. So throwing to someone who couldn’t seem to run their routes wasn’t something I was completely unused to.

I released the ball just as he made his cut, hitting him perfectly in stride. Dwight turned back, trying to hide his surprise.

“Lucky throw,” he said as he got back to me and tossed me the ball.

“Sure was,” I agreed, already setting up for the next pass. “Want to try your luck again?”

For the next twenty minutes, we ran through the route tree with each of the wide receivers. We also had the tight ends for a bit to give them some chances at receiving short lobs. They even stopped messing with me after a few goes, mostly because Coach Easley, the offensive coordinator, told them to knock off the horse shit and do it right, or he’d swap them for their backups.

Unlike Elijah, who would have taken that personally, they brushed it off and started trying. This wasn’t mind games or trying to one up anyone. They were just hazing the new guy, which I could deal with.

Varsity finally finished up and was ready to go to the coordinators, which meant we finally got a chance to scrimmage under the eye of Coach Holloway.

As we walked to the twenty-yard line where we’d be running plays, Kevin Dean walked past and said, “Nice arm, freshman. But let’s see how you do when you’ve got real pressure coming at you.”

“Looking forward to it.”

And I actually was. The only way I was going to prove to them that I was supposed to be there was on the field.

Coach Holloway blew a whistle as soon as we were all roughly in our starting positions. “First series is all passing plays. Give Blake a chance to get settled before we start prepping the actual plays for this weekend.”

What he meant was he wanted to see how I’d handle real pressure. As the defense lined up, I could see Kevin grinning behind his face mask. A junior on defense, and probably one who’d move to varsity next year, he was part experience and part skill, enough that he felt it was up to him to show the new guy what was up.

Challenge accepted.

The center snapped the ball, and immediately I felt pressure from the left side. I’d already seen from watching JV play that the offensive line was much weaker than the defensive line. I’d thought I’d been ready for it, but the pocket started shrinking faster than I expected, even accounting for the imbalance. Whether that was on purpose or just a skill imbalance, I started to have to roll left to avoid being caught in it while I kept my eyes downfield.

I juked and just missed a tackle from Randy Killam, one of the defensive tackles, and was thinking about saying screw it and trying to make for the sidelines and see if I could pick up some yards before the line fell apart completely when Mickey Evans, one of the wide receivers, broke free of his coverage.

I hit him in stride for a clean fifteen yards as hands grabbed me around the waist, enough to tell me I was tackled, without actually taking me to the ground, which wasn’t allowed in practice for obvious reasons.

A few whoops came from the offensive line, and Mickey was smiling as he tossed the ball back to Adre Price, our center.

“Let’s see you do it again,” one of the linebackers whose name I didn’t remember at the moment said.

Not everything was perfect. The next play went south fast. The defense crashed through almost immediately, and I had to throw it away before taking a sack, well touch that would have been sack if it had been allowed. I got it out of bounds and kept it from being a turnover, but that was just about the only good thing I’d managed.

“What happened to showing us up?” Brandon said as we lined up for the next snap.

I didn’t respond, focusing instead on reading the defense. They were showing blitz again, and I could see my guys eyeing each other, all but confirming they were not pushing hard, letting the defense through to test me.

Again, not malicious, but definitely hazing to see how I’d hold up.

As soon as I got the ball, the pocket started collapsing again, this time from the right. I made my reads as fast as I could, and everything was covered. I didn’t just want to throw it away again, so I scrambled left, hoping someone would break free.

Thankfully, someone did.

Dwight, a junior I didn’t really know other than by name, got free of his coverage as he ran on a deep post route. I didn’t even think about it, or the guys closing in on me. I just let it fly, sending the ball spiraling to him for a twenty-five-yard pass.

He held it up and ran around whooping like he’d just scored, instead of stopped on completion like we were supposed to. Coach blew his whistle, calling us all back to the sideline.

“Damn,” Kevin said, pulling off his helmet as he walked past. “Alright, you might have some game.”

“A little,” I said, grinning back at him.

This was what football was supposed to be. Competitive and fun. We could play hard, try to crush the other guy, and laugh about it after. It was a breath of fresh air after all the bullshit Elijah had put me through.

“Not bad, Blake,” Coach Holloway said as we gathered back in. “You’re handling the pressure well, but remember, scrambling is a last resort, not your first option. Sometimes you need to trust your protection and let the play develop.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, though I noticed he wasn’t exactly telling me to stop doing it.

Besides, my protection had let them through on purpose, to see what I’d do. I knew it was just for the moment and I hoped it wouldn’t last, but I’d trust them as soon as they showed me they were playing for real.

“Alright, let’s get back to running the playbook. We’re still a running team, and that’s going to be our focus, but I don’t want the receivers getting complacent out there. If Blake shows us he can do this on the field this weekend, we might start working in some additional passes.”

From the corner of my eye, I could see Jorden glower and look over at me, like it was my fault he hadn’t been able to do his job. I wasn’t trying to show him up. I was just trying to do my best and meet the opportunity I’d been given.

Thankfully, everyone else seemed to be much more rational and the rest of the practice went off beautifully. The offensive line stopped letting stuff through on purpose, and I started to get real looks the few passing plays we did.

Our defense was still better, and it was a challenge, but I didn’t have any more reason to scramble the rest of the afternoon.

All in all, a good start to my time on JV.

***

Things went pretty well the next few days. The hazing more or less stopped, although they found plenty of opportunities to continue the kind of ball busting that was a part of every sport. Lots of references to me being a child, needing my mommy, and a random pacifier in my locker were about par for the course and I didn’t take it to heart.

They didn’t give me any more shit than anyone else. Well, maybe that wasn’t true, but it was mostly because I was both the newest guy and being a freshman made me a particularly easy target.

On the field was where it mattered, and they stopped testing me and started trusting me. My football IQ was still lower than I wanted it and I had a lot of studying ahead of me to get there. Not just study of our own playbook, but reviewing tape and learning how to read the players.

The dream life might have given me a heads up as to where the sport was going to be going, but I’d been a fan after being forced out, not a true student of the game. But that was what I was going to have to be if I wanted to succeed now that I had a real chance at it.

Still, even with all of that, I was having fun again. No more Elijah and his guys trying to screw up plays. Just a team playing together and wanting to win together.

They’d even invited me over to the JV and varsity table, which was a big deal for a freshman. It was quite the buzz when I politely declined, telling them I wanted to stay with my guys. They might not be on my team anymore this year, but I was certain they would be making varsity in a year or two and this was going to be the core I’d be playing with until I graduated.

I again got some mocking jabs, but I am also pretty sure I earned some respect from the guys. They say I was loyal to my people, which meant when the time came I’d be loyal to them too. If I wanted people to start looking at me as a leader, if not this year than at least next year, that was groundwork I needed to lay down.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t all fun and games.

Thursday I was at lunch with my normal guys, but down at the far end of the table, kind of away from everyone, ready to bash my head against the table to make the pain stop.

“That’s not right either,” Li said, pointing to my answer about organism classification. “You’ve got the order mixed up again.”

“Kingdom, class, phylum, genus, family, order, species. No, wait. Kingdom, class, order. Damn it,” I said, dropping my head onto my textbook.

“You’re getting closer.” Li tapped her pencil against the top of my head. “Try this, Keep People Cheering Over Friday Game Scores.”

I lifted my head. “What?”

“It’s a memory device. Each word starts with the letter of the classification levels, in order. Keep for Kingdom, People for Phylum, and so on.”

“So now I have to remember some random sentence instead?”

“It’s about football. You seem to remember that big book of plays you’re always carrying around. I figured making it about football would help, since it’s the only thing you ever remember.”

“I’m not sure whether to be insulted or impressed.”

“Go with impressed and try it again.”

“Keep ... people ... cheering ...” I worked through each word. “Kingdom, phylum, class, order, family, genus, species!”

“Finally.” Li made a note in the margin of my paper. “Now try the next one.”

I stared at the question about bacterial classification and felt my frustration rising again. “You know what drives me crazy? The girl behind me got half credit for this same answer on a quiz last week, but Walsh marked mine completely wrong. Apparently, my missing one meant I missed the whole question, but she missed three and got credit for the ones she did get right. God. I hate that guy.”

“Maybe you should talk to your coaches about it. You’re some big football star now, right? Start using it to your advantage like the other jocks in school.”

“That’s not fair. For one, that’s what Walsh hates about me. He thinks anyone who plays a sport is just trying to coast by, and yet when I’m trying to actually do a good job, he thinks I’m pulling a fast one. And for two, since when am I a star. I’m on the JV team. That’s not exactly big man on campus territory.”

“Not according to them.” Li nodded toward Miguel and Connor, who were talking about the game they had coming up today and how bad practice had been going for them. “They talk about your promotion like you’re headed straight to the NFL.”

“Well … they’re idiots. And since when did you start listening to them? I thought you were always too busy reading to notice anything else.”

Just because I read doesn’t mean I’m deaf.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean…”

“Let’s try this next section again,” she said, interrupting me and trying to get me to focus back on the work and not on her.

I tried to humor her, because I knew she hated when I pried too much, but my brain was starting to get fried and lunch was almost over. I just didn’t have any focus left in me for this study session.

“I need a break,” I said, pushing my textbook away. “Can I ask you something?”

“You just did.”

“Why are you always so unhappy?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Come on. You never smile. You don’t take part in conversations, even here. You barely talk to anyone except when you’re tutoring.”

“Not everyone needs to be the life of the party, Blake. Some of us are fine being quiet.”

“There’s quiet and then there’s...” I waved my hand, trying to find the right words. “Look, this is high school. I know it sounds stupid, but for a lot of people, this is as good as it gets. Their peak moment. And you’re just... letting it pass by.”

Li picked at the corner of my textbook, not meeting my eye. She had the same annoyed expression she had every time I pressed about anything, so I expected her normal sarcastic response.

Instead, she surprised me when she said, “It’s different here. Everything’s different.”

“Different than what?”

“In Houston, where I lived before moving here, our apartment was in Chinatown. Our whole complex was Chinese families. I went to an American school, had American friends, but my life at home was...” She paused. “I could walk down the street and get authentic hot pot or the street signs were in Chinese. There, I was just like everyone else … well, as long as I didn’t venture out too far. Here, everyone stares at me and just refers to me as ‘the Chinese girl.’“

I felt a twinge of guilt, since I’d referred to her as that in my head a bunch of times before I’d learned her name.

“Why did you end up moving here?”

“My mom bought Mrs. Downing’s antique store when she retired. They were both big into antiques and knew each other professionally and I think they became something like friends over the last few years. I know mom would drive all the way here to buy inventory from her. Mrs. Downing wanted to sell the place so she could move to Colorado to be closer to her kids, and gave my mom the chance to buy it.”

“Wait, your mom runs that antique store on Main?”

The antique store was still called Downing’s Antiques. If you went anywhere toward Main Street, you’d end up passing it, so it was kind of hard to miss. I didn’t exactly shop for antiques much, but I would just have assumed someone named Downing still owned it.

“Yeah. She’s really good at finding pieces, fixing them up, selling them to people who don’t want to do the work themselves. My great-grandfather was some kind of master craftsman back in China, although I never got to meet him. The way mom tells it, he could look at a broken piece of furniture and know exactly how to restore it. He raised her so her parents could try for another child and get a boy, and taught her everything he knew. I think it kind of crushed him when she married my dad and they moved to America.”

“What did your dad do?”

“He was a researcher at the big medical center in Houston. Cancer research, ironically enough.” The smile faded. “He died when I was eight. Brain tumor.”

“God, Li. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.” She said, but it was clear she was still sad that he was gone. “After that, Mom had to figure something out. She’d been doing restoration work as a hobby just to keep busy, but suddenly it became our lifeline after he died. We barely made it some months, but she kept us going.”

“That must have been really hard.”

“It was. But this store... it’s the first time I’ve seen her excited about something since Dad died. She’s there all the time, seven days a week from open until closed, but she’s building something that’s hers. Actually, she’s there more than that. We live in the apartment above the store.”

“Sounds kind of lonely though.”

Li’s shoulders lifted in a half-shrug. “We manage.”

“You know, it might help if you got involved in some activities. Being smart is great, but studying is pretty solitary.”

“What would I even do?”

“Well, what do you like?”

Li started to answer, then stopped herself. She looked around the cafeteria, maybe checking if anyone was listening.

“Promise you won’t laugh?”

“Cross my heart.”

“I like basketball.” The words came out in a rush. “I used to play with kids, well boys, back in Houston. We’d go to the courts near our apartment complex almost every weekend. Mom hated it, but I still snuck out all the time to do it. After he died, I kept playing. It helped, mostly ‘cause mom was gone all the time, so I was always either alone or with some aunt or uncle.”

“Your parents’ family live in Houston.”

“No,” she said, laughing. “It’s a Chinese thing. Any friend of the family that’s older than you is your aunt or uncle. If they’re older than your parents, they’re your grandparents. It’s just the way things are.”

“Ohh,” I said. “Did you play for your middle school team back there?”

“God no. Mom would never have let me. She thought it wasn’t the proper kind of thing for a girl to do, and that it would get in the way of my school work. It’s too bad. My gym coach asked me to join. I was good, but I was also like five inches taller than any girl in my school. Hell, I still am.”

She wasn’t wrong. I was closing in on six feet, and she towered over me. She was tall even among the tallest seniors, let alone the freshmen, which wasn’t a good thing in high school. People who stood out often became targets, especially if they were quiet.

“I was good, though,” she continued. “I beat everybody I played against in the pickup games, guys or girls. Even the high school kids.”

“You should try out for the team when the season starts,” I said. “You’d tower over most of the girls here too, and if you’re as good as you say you are, you could really stand out.”

“Mom would never…”

“She would. You just have to sell it right. Look, lots of kids have good grades, right? But this is a small district and we don’t get much attention from colleges. You know what Texas does have though? Sports culture.”

“What’s your point?”

“Athletic scholarships open doors. Even Ivy League schools recruit players, especially ones with good grades. And you’re what, six-five?”

“Six-four,” she corrected.

“Even better. That’s the perfect height for a female center, and you’re not even done growing yet. Add in good grades, and colleges would fight over you.”

“Why do you care so much?” she said, turning suddenly hostile. “I don’t need saving, Blake.”

I didn’t take it personally. I didn’t think her sudden anger was about me. If I had to guess, she was afraid. Maybe of change. Maybe of getting rejected and not getting on the team. People tended to lash out when they got afraid, and it stopped a lot of them from ever achieving something.

Anything worth doing was a little scary.

“I’m not trying to save you. This is what friends do.” I gestured between us. “You’re helping me with school stuff. I want to help you find your place here. That’s all.”

“Friends?” she asked, sounding almost surprised.

“Yeah, friends. People who help each other out. Make each other’s lives better. Or at least try to.”

She looked down at her lap for a long time, and I just kept my peace, looking over at Eduardo talking to Tyrell, which was an unusual pairing, but the two were actually hitting it off, which I was happy to see.

“I’ll think about it,” she finally said.

“That’s all I’m asking.”

“Good.” She tapped my science book with her pencil. “Now stop stalling and tell me the basic parts of a cell.”

“You’re ruthless, you know that?”

“Someone has to be.”