Colt's Game : A Playing for Keeps Story

And Now I Pray

Colt

The season has started and it's official. Frederick won't be coming back for the rest of the year, pushing me into the first-string position for the foreseeable future. Sucks ass.

Lucky for us, our first week is a bye week, so there is no game to be played. Coach still wants to keep us on our toes, so he's set up full speed no contact practice.

This is where I would see first-hand how I meshed with the team, though I didn't need a practice for that. I knew how I meshed with them, horribly.

"Colt, I hope you've been learning the playbook. I'm not going to slow anything down for you to catch up," Coach Mike yells out to me as I make my way over to the huddle with the play that he's given me. So far, we've been just running the ball. I could hand the ball off with the best of them, but running yards wasn't going to cut it with this bet. I need a thousand passing yards by the end of the McNeese game.

"Coach called Z Red Clean."

"Z Red, what the hell for? You are not going to be able to make the throw," Griffin complains from his spot in the huddle.

"Whatever, on one." I don't even break, just walk off and wait for them to get to the line.

The rest of the team gets into their spots on the field, and even though this is supposed to be a no-contact practice, I swear I can see the desire to kill in each of their eyes.

I go through my cadence and hike the ball.

One Mississippi

Two Mississippi

Three—

Three seconds, that's all I can ask for in a real game. After that, either I was going to run the ball or get sacked.

I let the ball fly right at its intended target. It has the distance, it's just too low.

"Who you throwing to, Colt? We had this discussion already. You're supposed to know the routes," Coach Mike yells at me from the sideline.

I did know the routes, I memorized them over the last two weeks. It wasn't the plays, it was my fucking head.

We run the same play three more times, and all three times the same result.

"What the fuck is the point? This bastard can't make the throw. Maybe you need to go over there with the women and let them train you." Leo puts his arms over his head to stretch.

I would have ripped him a new one for that comment, but I'm more interested in the women that he's talking about. I look to the opposite sideline, and wouldn't you know it, but the track team is there warming up. They must have practice now too.

I search the small crowd and lock eyes on the one girl I'm reluctant to say that I wanted to see. The one who was talking about my release point.

I lock eyes with her, and when she doesn't look away, I pray that she can hear my silent prayers.

Help me!

"Run it again." I don't wait for coach to tell us. I want her to see. I quickly hike the ball, go through my progression reads, and let it fly. Same result. Too low.

"What the fuck, man!" Leo walks slowly back to the huddle, clearly pissed that for the past four runs of this play, I've missed him.

I shoot the girl a glance, and when she rolls her finger, indicating for me to do it again, I don't even question it.

"Again."

"No, I'm fucking tired. You got me running around for nothing out here. I'd rather forfeit the year than have you QB."

"What the hell you just say?" Maddox, the center and captain of the team, takes note. "I don't know what your problem is Leo, but if you ever say some shit like that in my presence, I will make sure you have no choice but to sit out the rest of the season. I'll break your goddamn face if I hear you say that shit again."

"Nah, man, I'm just tired. I didn't . . ." Leo did his best to backtrack.

"Again, let's run it again," I say over the two of them and get back to the line.

I go through my cadence, hike the ball, wind up, but this time as I'm in the process of throwing, a distinctive loud clap comes from the sideline where the track team is. Like a swimmer waiting on the block for the sound of the gun, the second I hear the noise, I let go, and the ball flies. 

I don't move for the few seconds it takes the pigskin to get to Leo, right in stride, and the second he breaks off his route, the ball hits him square in his chest. He's so stunned that I made such a perfect throw he doesn't even get his hands up quick enough to catch it.

"That's how you fucking do it! Throw like that every fucking time!" The coaches start applauding and screaming at me from the sideline.

It was one throw, but it felt good to know that it was possible. I turn to the opposite sideline and jog over to her.

"Colt, where the hell are you going?" Maddox calls out.

"One sec!" I call over my shoulder.

"Hey, asshole," she says the second I get within earshot.

"Yeah, that's me. I'm not stupid. You know what you're talking about. I need you."

She scoffs and tries to walk away. "You must be kidding."

I grab her arm and turn her back in my direction. "Nikki, you're supposed to be stretching," one of her coaches says from the other side of the group.

"Coming."

I let go of her arm and look her right in the eyes. She doesn't know the shit that I'm in or how bad I need to get whatever kinks I have worked out, but I know that she may be exactly what I need to have even a shot at pulling this off.

"Look, you don't know me and you don't owe me anything, but I need help. I'm not going to sugarcoat it. So far, you've been the only one to notice that my release is off. I was a dick before, I'm sorry. Can you work with me?" Every single word felt like acid on my tongue.

"You're serious? You don't care that I'm a girl?"

"No, all I care about is winning. It's all that matters."

"Nikki!" her coach calls her again. She puts a finger up.

"Alright, if you're serious, meet me here tonight." She backpedals over to where her team is. "You turn out to be a jerk. I'm gone."

Being a jerk was my nature, I could hide it for at least one night.