34 Knox

Week 10: Warriors 7-1

Looking at myself in the mirror had never been a problem before. I had pretty simple goals—play hard enough to win games and influence scouts. I cared about my family and my team, and we were almost always on the same page.

This morning, I have a hard time meeting my own gaze in the bathroom mirror.

I don’t like what I see.

It’s not just the sour taste of losing, but the way I had lost. I should have cleared this thing with Ellie before the game. It’s my own damn guilt weighing on my head.

I splash cold water on my face as the door to my apartment opens and closes.

It’s not Ty. I drove him to the airport at four in the morning so he could make his six o’clock flight. “It’s only one loss,” Ty told me before he exited the car.

“It was a bad loss to a bad team.” I replied curtly.

“Then you need to dominate in your last four games. Don’t let all this other bullshit affect you.” He gave me a hard squeeze.

Easy to say; less easy to do. But Ty’s right. I have to put this game behind me. One thing that separates the greats from the wannabes is the ability to shake off a loss. To forget how bad you played and show up in the next game like you’re the motherfucking champion.

I waited twenty-one years to have sex because I had this ideal in my head, but I’d waited as long for a title. Ty and I had never won one in high school. Ironically, our high school team suffered much of the same problems the Warriors had—a weak offense. Ty chose to go to a school that featured a premiere quarterback. I came to Western. Ty’s fancy pants quarterback suffered a career ending injury last year, and his chances for a title went out the window.

This year looked like my year. Ace threw the ball well enough to provide a decent cushion on the scoreboard. The defense clicked like one machine with one brain and one heart.

And Ellie showed up. Long legs, hot body, loved football, sarcastic sense of humor, and fucking knew the difference between my brother and me in every picture I showed her.

It was my year…until it wasn’t. And the minute things didn’t go my way, I folded like a cheap lawn chair.

I don’t like that. I’ve got to make things right with my team and with Ellie. She’s scared about something. Last night I replayed every conversation I had with her and the one we’d had right before the dinner with Ty struck me as weird. All that talk about affecting my draft status? It didn’t add up for me.

I wipe a hand down my jaw and go out to see what the commotion is.

I find Matty in the kitchen. “Who was that at the door?”

“Jack,” he says. “He brought this over.”

He tosses my away jersey over the back of a chair. So that’s how it’ll be? She doesn’t even want to talk to me?

I don’t like that. Not a bit. I stomp back into the bedroom and pull the phone away from the charging cord. I pull up Ellie’s number and stab the call button.

A mechanical voice answers telling me Ellie’s number has been disconnected. I check the number and dial again, like the recording instructs. Same thing.

Disconnected.

The hell? She sends Jack over with my jersey. Disconnects her phone so I can’t fucking call her?

I squeeze the phone tightly in my hand.

“Why don’t you let me take the jersey to the trainers? I’ll get it cleaned up before the game next week,” Matty offers.

“Good idea, bro,” I pick up the jersey and almost throw it to Matty until I catch a whiff of it. It smells like Ellie. Smells like citrus and girl, and fuck if my fist doesn’t clench around the material and refuse to let go. “On second thought, I’ll send it over with the rest of my shit tomorrow.”

I have no idea if that’s a lie. I just know that right now I’m not ready to get rid of it.

Matty’s eyes show a measure of concern that I’ll need to address. I force my fingers to loosen around the polyester and toss it over the back of the sofa.

Apparently I’m not ready to eliminate Ellie from my life even though it’s easy for her to erase me from hers. What I can do is go about repairing my relationship with my team—starting with Matty.

“I’m sorry about yesterday’s game. My head wasn’t all there for the first couple quarters and that’s not right.”

Matty gives me a half smile and small shake of his head. “Masters, you played like a demon and I’ll always be proud that you were my teammate.” He slaps me on the back. “I’m making pancakes downstairs with the rest of the team. Let’s go down before it’s all gone.”

I make my way down to the first floor where most of the defensive starters have gathered around Hammer’s table eating breakfast. I stop near the foot of the table where an empty place waits for me.

“You okay, man?” Hammer asks.

“Other than the fact that I feel like shit for letting you guys down on the field yesterday, I’m okay.” The look of relief that passes across each and every one of their faces tells me I’m doing the right thing. I wait for Matty to come tromping down the stairs. He joins us at the table.

Once he takes his seat, I give all the guys an apology. “I’m sorry for last week.”

“No, man. That wasn’t you.” Jessie shakes his head vigorously, making his tight corn rows bounce. “You had that chick in your head. If it’s any one’s fault it’s—”

I cut him off before he says anything too stupid, because Jessie’s a good linebacker and his replacement…not so good.

“Was Ellie—” Fuck, it hurts to even say her name. “Was she on the field yesterday? Did she wear number fifty-five while my ass sat on a bench?” Jessie mouths no as I say it. “No. I stunk it up in the first quarter. I stumbled over my own feet like a newborn colt. That was me. I didn’t shed blocks. I let a weaker guy push me off the line. And I’m sorry for my play.” It’s important for my team to see me take responsibility, so when we go back to practice on Monday, they are as focused as ever.

“When we go out on the football field, everyone there has practiced as much as we have. We win because we want it more than they do. We care less about the pain in our shins, our swollen fingers, and our bruised bones than we do about victory. Yesterday I let the vision of our success slip away and the win went with it. So I’m sorry, and I’m here to tell you it won’t happen again. From now on, from the first whistle to the last, I will not take a play off. I’ll focus on nothing but winning. I make that pledge to you now.”

Hammer thuds his hand on the table, slowly, like a war drum.

“Nothing but football from here on out,” he concurs.

One by one each player makes their own pledges, and with each word and passing moment, we begin to reknit the spirit of the team. The heaviness that wore me down all last night and this morning begins to subside a little.

“Now you guys need to accept my apology so I don’t have to keep running down all the shit things I did yesterday. There’s no reason to blame the girl I—” Love. I clear my throat, but the word I can’t say hangs out there like my fly is open and my dick’s flopping in the wind.

Matty jumps in like a fucking superhero.

“How early is too early for a dick pic?” He waves his phone.

“No dick pics before ten.” Hammer scowls.

“Is that what the donut blowjob site says?” I ask, a reluctant smile curving across my face. I sense another epic Hammer and Matty disagreement coming on, and damn if we don’t need it.

Hammer nods. “I think I should write for that site. I read other articles and some of them are written by dudes.” He spits out the last word with disgust.

“Why’s that bad?”

“Because these guys aren’t using their power for good. They’re passing out advice to a bunch of horny women, but it’s all about sappy movies and what kind of noises girls should make in bed.”