Colt's Game : A Playing for Keeps Story

And It Starts As A Failure

Colt

Game 1

The speed.

I thought my problem would be my completion rate or even the rest of the team getting on the same page as me, but that's not what I should have been worried about. 

I guess the team we played for our pre-season game was operating on half-speed because it feels like everyone is moving ten seconds faster in this game. I've played football all my life, peewee, high school, backyard, you name it, and I've played, but I don't think I've ever been more overwhelmed in my life.

"Down, set, hike-hike!" The ball snaps, and I drop back into my stance. Coach called a Longhorn X Rough, which was just a deep package. I watch as all the eligible receivers run their routes perfectly. I watch them get open, but all my brain can focus on is the intensity the D-line has as they break through my protection. 

I scramble to the right, but I'm met by the shoulder of a tackler to my stomach. I can't get away from them. I have yet to complete a pass, and we are down by fourteen points.

In my first college season game, I'm showing the rest of the team why my name really should be Colt the Choke.

The whistle blows, and I make my way over to the sideline. Coach doesn't even say anything to me anymore. He's been screaming at me all game, and by now, I'm sure he feels like nothing he says is going to get through to me. It's not that I'm not listening. I hear him. I just hear the sound of the defense breathing down my back louder.

A hard smack nearly pushes me off the bench, and I turn around to see a pissed-off Nikki behind me.

"What in the hell are you doing?" she hisses at me.

"Ma'am, you can't be here," one of the assistant coaches says.

"Give me a second, will ya," I tell him, and he backs off.

"Nikki, this is nothing that we practiced."

"Of course, it's nothing that we practiced because you didn't need to practice it. You know what you need to do. You're just too much of a pussy to do it!" she yells at me.

I pop up from the bench and get right in her face. "Do you think I need this shit right now? Because I don't! I'm doing the fucking best I can."

"Bullshit! You're not playing your game, Colt." She lowers her voice and shakes her head before she turns and walks back to her seat. Two rows behind me in the bleachers. You would think she had something on the line, she was so pissed off.

Another set of whistles blow, indicating that it's halftime. I do my best to shake what she said out of my mind. Fear or not, I know she's right, this isn't my game. On my way to the locker room, I look up into the crowd and two men in vests are standing looking down at me. Pirate and Bones.

I clench my fists and hunker my shoulders down. I hate this, I know I did it to myself, but it feels like I can't catch a break.

I'm the last one to walk into the tunnel. The rest of the team is so pissed off they don't even wait for me. It's almost quiet in the long hall, only the sounds of the booing crowd filtering in. 

I walk with my head down, and after a few steps, a large burly hand grabs my jersey and yanks me into a small space.

"What the fuck! Get off me!" I start swinging, but I can barely get my arms up.

It's Maddox and he has me pinned in a small janitor's closet. Between all the equipment we both have on, my size and his size, there is no way I'd be able to protect myself if he wanted to fight.

"What are you doing? You fucking up on purpose?"

"What? Get off of me!" I try to push again, but Maddox has at least four inches on me and seventy-five pounds. He's the center for a reason. He's a fucking goliath of a man.

"I've seen you practice, I know what the hell you are capable of. So this shit that you are doing tonight must be on purpose."

"No. I'm not doing this on purpose."

"Colt, you're good. You have the raw talent and the football knowledge to back it up." He lets go of my jersey and drops his hands. "Your problem is you think you're playing this game by yourself."

"Maddox, you've heard the rest of the team. Hell, you've seen them in practice. I know none of them got my back. Of course, I'm playing this game on my own." My face heats up as I admit how alone I am right now. 

"They don't see it. They don't want to see what the coaches and I see. For most of us, especially the seniors, Frederick was our ticket to the chip. When he went down, it left a bad taste in everyone's mouth. You need to show them. They need to see that you got what it takes to get us to the end game. You're not going to do that until you start trusting someone."

I leaned away from him, I was expecting him to beat me down, not give me a pep talk. "I don't have time behind the line. I can't get the ball off."

"You want more time? Fine, You'll get more time. If I have to hold motherfuckers with my teeth, I'll get you more time. Get that ball off, get us some yards and show the rest of the team what the hell you're made of. The time is now, Colt. Let's get this shit started." He puts his hand out so I can give him a pound, I do, and he pulls me into an awkward one-armed bro hug.

I can do this. I have to.