Cross the Line

Chapter Two

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Handing the ball off to Finn, he had a clear shot into the end zone. Just as he made it past the twenty-yard line, our defensive safety, Darren Walters, rammed into his side, sending them both plunging to the ground causing Finn to fumble the ball.

Within recent weeks, it seemed to be a recurrent issue for Finn to screw up easy plays or really any play for that matter. I'd noticed it which meant coach and the others saw it as well. Finn was given a gift for this sport, he was quick and determined but lately, it seemed like he was a rookie, who was in way over his head.

Pushing off Finn, Darren stood smug with an apparent grin. As for Finn, he had given himself a few seconds to rest before attempting to stand. That hit he took was rough and even had me cringe at the contact. I assumed he got the wind knocked out of him.

"Goddammit, Finn," Coach yelled, his voice getting significantly louder as he stepped into the field. "Where the hell is your head at because it sure as hell is not on this field?" Admittedly, Coach Mayer could be a hard son-of-a-bitch but he really cared about us and the sport. He was also one of the best coaches in the country, sending 10 different players to the NFL. So, if he wanted something fixed with your playing he'd say jump and you'd instantly ask, how high?

An unsettling silence had set its way onto the field, all players coming to a complete halt to watch how this scene was going to play out. Finn, who had finally come up from his spot on the turf, placed his hands to rest on both sides of his hips trying to regain his breathing while also staring intently at his cleats desperately avoiding any and all eye contact with Coach.

Coach, however, had a crazy look in his eyes as he stared at Finn, a look we all knew too well. The type of stare that had us running suicides for hours until we puked.

After another silent minute Coach sends his glare at the rest of the team before giving us his curt response, "Practice is over I cant watch yall play another damn second. You better have your shit together before we play UT Austin in three weeks." Before anyone could respond he was already making his way to the locker room.

The disappointment could be felt as we followed Coach in tow. Unfortunately, it wasn't just Finn who struggled in making plays, the whole team seemed to be having a rough go. I wish I could blame it on Emerson's party and the fact most of my teammates were suffering from hangovers but it had been going on for a month now. We had already lost two players one from an ACL tear and the other for steroid usage which seemed to be where the trouble actually started.

This up and coming game against UT Austin that Coach mentioned was a scrimmage prior to the actual start of the season. It was imperative we win. Under the NCAA guidelines, a scrimmage wasn't necessarily allowed but Coach made it happen in spite of. He enjoyed pushing buttons especially after finding out the school wanted to fire him for reason's unbeknownst to him. For Coach, the team, and our fragile egos I'd hoped we'd have our shit together by then.

Being the first in the locker room, I was also able to hit the showers first. I managed to pry off my sweaty clothes finding it nearly impossible as they had clung to my skin. Wrapping the towel I brought around my waist I tossed it over the barrier between the shower heads. I started off with a cool temp before casually turning the heat of the water up. For a couple of seconds I just stood there letting the water hit my chest and letting the droplets tread over the reddened area of my skin. Despite the heat that came from running around in full padding I couldn't help but soak in the hot water.

Every muscle in my body ached but that was expected after a brutal practice such as this one.  I had gotten tackled on what I counted as several times because our offensive tackles hadn't been doing their job.