Tackled (Alpha Ballers #1) (22 page)

This was my locker. It might be my locker for less than a week longer, or it might be mine for two weeks longer, or it might be mine till January, or even beyond that. It was my job to make sure that this stayed my locker. If I could do that, I was all set.

I had my headphones on, drowning out all the sounds around me. Most guys listened to something upbeat, something loud, something with a strong beat. Me, before games, I had always listened to instrumental rock. Just a couple guitars, a bass, and a drummer, the kind of music that you could space out to, the kind of music where the band stood on stage and rocked back and forth, their eyes closed, while the audience swayed back and forth too.

That was the kind of the stuff that got me ready for a game. It kinda turned the volume down on everything else, like it set a new level for me, something I could build off of once I got out on the field.

I went through my preparations, trying to keep Lily out of my head, but that was far easier said than done. Just the feeling of having her in my arms again, touching her, kissing her, was enough to snap me out of my routines.

It wasn’t just all physical, though. Lily challenged me. She forced me to confront things about myself that I didn’t like, and because of her I was a much better man.

She was the best. I was lucky to have her in my life.

I laced up my shoes, getting them just the way I liked them, testing out how much give they had. I liked a tight lacing job, I never wanted to slide around in my shoes. At various times I had even played with shoes just a tiny bit too small, just to make sure when I planted my foot, I knew exactly how it would feel and where it would go.

Then someone tapped me on the head, the generally accepted way of getting someone’s attention in the locker room when they couldn’t hear you and weren’t looking. I paused my music before looking up, only to see Coach Armstrong standing in front of me, his hands on his hips.

I took my headphones off, leaving them around my neck. We hadn’t spoken in 2 weeks, not since the start of training camp. Oh he had yelled at me a couple times on the field, and once I even got a “good job, Rollins,” out of him, super soft but I still heard it, and it had been the highlight of my football career to that day, no joke.

“Yeah, Coach? Anything I can do for you?”

Coach Armstrong’s face was stony, and his voice betrayed not even a single hint of emotion. The man was known around the league for being a football robot, and over the last couple weeks I had learned that reputation was well earned.

“Yeah, son. There’s something you can do for me.”

I stood up. “Sure, Coach, anything, what is it?”

Coach Armstrong gripped my pads and pulled me in close. “This is your final chance, Rollins. I need you to give me a reason to keep you on this time after tonight. Do you understand me?”

Oh shit, this really was the most important game of my life. “Y-Yeah, Coach, I got you. I’ll make you proud.”

“I don’t care about pride, son. I care about winning football games. You show me you can help me win football games, I’ll keep you here as long as you like. But if you can’t, or if someone can do it better, I got no use for you. We clear?”

“Crystal clear, Coach. I’ll make it happen.”

“That’s all, then.” Without another word, Coach Armstrong moved along, walking up and down the rows of lockers, stopping in places to talk to certain players, but leaving most to their individual preparations.

Oh shit, I was really in the soup now. This was do or die time. I couldn’t go back to my previous life, but I couldn’t go any further as a professional football player unless I had a monster game tonight.

No pressure.

I sat back down in my locker, looking back at the floor, concentrating and trying to find the focus, the place I went before games to get in the zone.

Another tap on the helmet. I looked up. Lance Parker.

“Hey, man.”

“Hey, Lance. What’s up.”

Lance smiled. “Not much, man, just getting ready for it. I just wanted to say that you’ve looked really good this last week, so don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

“That’s really good of you to say, thanks, Lance.”

“No worries.” We gave each other daps, and Lance continued. “This is a big game for you, Rollins, and I want you on my side when he season starts.”

Oh. SHIT. This was fucking huge.

“But I need to know that you and I can connect, yeah?”

“Yeah, man, whatever you need.”

“That’s my man. I’m gonna be looking for you out there, you haul it in and we’re all good, yeah? We can ride this all the way to a championship. You with me?”

“Yeah, Lance, I’m with you, 100%.”

“Alright, cool. I’ll let you go, see you out there.”

We dapped up again, and Lance was gone.

Shit, I had a chance, a really good chance. The first thing I did? Pulled out my phone and texted Lily what Lance had said, off the record. No reply.

I sat back down and ignored the rest of the world, this time much happier.

And then, before I knew it, it was time for the game to start, and I had my helmet on and I was in the tunnel with the rest of the guys, giving one last fist bump or helmet tap. In the tunnel all the petty conflicts between the guys on the team fell away.

Now we had a common goal, something all of us were working toward.

And then we were out on the field, with the tens of thousands of fans cheering. This game was against the Philadelphia Eagles, and some of the Eagles fans had traveled all the way to Foxboro for the game, but this was definitely a strong home crowd, with blue, red, silver, and white banners and colors all over the place.

It felt really good, seeing all these fans here to watch us play. I flapped my arms up and down, trying to get a rise out of the crowd, and I heard ripples of clapping and cheering come out.

I loved being out under the bright lights of a football stadium. For my entire life, since I had started playing, this was the best feeling in the world. Knowing that all these people were here to see my team, see us play, see us win, and watch me catch touchdowns - it was the biggest high, better than any drug.

And now it was about to start again. Possibly for the last time. I really hadn’t even had that thought until just that moment, and when it washed over me, I was momentarily stunned.

This could be my last football game under lights like this. Everything after this, any time I touched a football, could be just playing catch in the backyard or the park with friends. I might never have pads on like this, might never again go to war like this with my teammates beside me, for real.

Wow. That was much heavier than I thought.

No pressure, Drake.

Then we were all on the sidelines, getting ready, doing some final stretches. The team captains went out as the game started, and we got the ball first.

Normally the Patriots always defer the coin toss if they win, and get the ball to start the second half, but I was really happy that Coach Armstrong decided to play things a little different this time.

The game didn’t matter, but the point was to test out the new players, the guys on the bubble, and come up with the best 53 men for the full season roster.

Now was my time to shine.

CHAPTER 25 - LILY

I pulled out my phone just as the game started and saw Drake’s message from before the game, how giddy he was about Lance reaching out to him.

The game started. And Drake made the most of it. He played better than I had seen him play in all of training camp. It reminded me of games back at Cal, the way he was styling on the other team, making them look terrible.

He was having one of the best games of his life. Watching him make catches like that from this angle, from the sidelines, was such a rush. I almost felt like I could get a tiny little piece of the feeling Drake must get when he made those catches.

Like a little piece of why he loved the game so much. Drake knew that this was the best game for him to show off his skills, and he was showing off in spades.

His routes were crisp, his timing was perfect, and Lance Parker and coaching staff could definitely see if it someone with so little experience as me could so easily.

This was good, this was very good. Drake was making a really strong case for making the team. On the other hand, Mike Sampson was not doing so hot. He had more than one drop, and his routes were off. Lance Parker definitely noticed, and instead of throwing to Sampson, normally his number 1 receiver, he was checking down to Drake more often than not by the 2
^nd
quarter, and Drake was responding in kind, making some spectacular catches.

Just before the half, I stopped the wide receivers coach and managed to get a few seconds with him.

“How’s Drake looking?” I asked, already aware of the answer.

His eyes narrowed. “You know he’s having the game of his life out there.”

“Yeah, but I just wanted to hear you say it. Think he’s gonna make the team?”

“At this rate, and given how crappy Sampson is playing? I’d say he’s got a good shot. Did you say something to Rollins? What changed?”

I nodded. “He’s starting to believe in himself.”

The wide receivers coach laughed and shook his head. “Don’t give me that crap. As long as he keeps playing like this, I don’t give a shit what you said to him.”

He wandered away, off to talk to some of the players. I managed to flag down Coach Armstrong as he approached the tunnel.

“Coach Armstrong, how’s the game going so far?”

“We’ve done some good things, and some bad, we’re going to make some adjustments and see where those take us.”

“And Drake Rollins?” Coach Armstrong knew I and the Boston Globe had a special interest in Drake Rollins.
 

“He’s performing like we expected him to perform.”

“Could you be more specific?”

“No, Miss Pearson, I cannot. All I will say is, he is living up to expectations. And the Patriots have high expectations for all our players.”

With that, Coach Armstrong turned and headed into the tunnel off to the locker room to discuss the first half with his players and make half time adjustments that would give the team the edge needed to win the game.

Even though preseason games didn’t mean anything, Armstrong was known throughout the league for taking them very seriously and today was clearly no different.

I watched him head back into the tunnel and I couldn’t help but be thrilled. Drake was having an amazing game and even though it sounded like Armstrong was giving the most middle of the road and banal reaction to a player’s performance, for him that was actually extremely high praise.

Today was looking up indeed.

CHAPTER 26 - DRAKE

I was having a fucking awesome game, and I knew it.

Fuck, everyone knew it. Even Lance Parker came up to me during half time and gave me props for making all those catches. I sent it back to him, letting him know that his passes were perfect and dead on.

“Get a room you two!” someone shouted, and we both laughed before going back to our lockers.

Fuck, it felt good to be having this much fun during a game again. I had almost forgotten how great this felt. And throughout, all I wanted to do was tell Lily about it.

Back at my locker I pulled out my phone and saw that she’d sent me a flood of text messages, all telling me her observations of my catches.

It was really heartwarming to see how into it she was getting, and I scrolled through them all, reliving those moments as she expressed them in text form.

This girl was amazing! How had I enjoyed football before I met her? This was way better than normal.

Coach Armstrong came in the room and gave us a good talk, talking to the position coaches who came around and told their position groups the changes for the second half. We were behind, but the game was definitely within reach.

Before we knew it, the second half had begun and we were back on the field. The crowd, probably well liquored up by now, was really getting into it, cheering us on raucously.

This was the good stuff. This was where I was meant to be. On the field like this, with the crowd all around.

I saw Lily back on the sidelines and I waved to her. She waved back, a huge smile on her face.

The third quarter went much like the second - we made some gains but gave up just as many, leaving the score still close, but relatively unchanged.

It would come down to the 4
^th
quarter. Coach Armstrong walked up and down the sidelines, talking to us, telling his in his own understated way just how important this was.

When he came up to me, I stood up, and he said 4 words to me, 4 words I knew I would never forget. “Rollins, make a play.”
 

That was all it took. That was all Coach Armstrong needed to say. I strapped on my helmet and went back out there.

Back in the huddle, Parker poked me in the ribs. “Wide Flip Six Three, got it?”

All of us grunted, but Sampson spoke up. “Give me the ball, Parker.”

Parker shook his head. “Nah, you’ve had the drops all day, Sampson. Drake’s first read on this one.”

“Fuck this shit,” was all Sampson said in reply, but he clapped his hands as the huddle broke like the rest of us.

I jogged back to the line of scrimmage, lining myself up on the left side. Sampson was on the right, looking sullen.

The center snapped the ball to Parker in the shotgun formation, and I took off, running down the seam, noticing that the pressure from the pass rush was coming on strong and Parker would have to get the ball out quick or he would take a sack.

My route on this play was deep, and I ran as hard as I could, sure that by the time I got to where I was supposed to be, Parker would have seen the pass rush and checked down to Sampson, giving him the glory, assuming he could catch the fucking ball for once.

But as I whipped my head around to see, I watched Parker shake off one, then a second pass rusher and throw me a long bomb.

Oh shit, that was coming right at me. I timed it just right and jumped as high as I could, feeling the ball fall directly into my arms less than a second later.