If at first you don't succeed, then level the playing field and take a second chance.
Two years ago, Ellie Harrison collapsed under the weight of her past and the fallout that caught up with her. Like a shell of her former self, she retreated away f...
"They've mostly been playing an umbrella cover-four." Coach Vaughn's forehead tensed as he drew his eyebrows together and palmed his hands onto his hips. "But every now and then they throw in a cover-six."
My grin spread wider across my face at that news, since that meant the two inner backfield players stayed further back while the outer two started closer to the line of scrimmage. The extra coverage in the backfield meant more defenders against deep passes but -
"Short yardage plays for the win," I replied. "Hooks and curls."
"You got it." He returned my grin and slapped a palm onto my closest shoulder. "Sorry it's not going to be as pretty and they've beefed up a lot during the offseason. Seventy-seven, Darrell Harris, packed on twenty-five pounds during the offseason and it's not from eating twinkies."
"Great," I gritted out since just the suggestion that I was sacked by a 290-pound defensive pile of pure muscle was the last thing I wanted in my mind.
"Set your stuff in your locker, Castle's already in the film room," Coach Vaughn nodded at the door still in my hand. "USC's dominated us, even at home, but don't worry. We'll strategize so this year we'll have a different outcome."
I just silently nodded in response because just about every fan who followed UW and USC knew how lopsided their rivalry was. USC in particular rode into Seattle this weekend on an 8-0 lead in wins over UW at Husky Stadium. Given both teams were 4-0 this seasons, the buzz going into the game, at least from the initial game previews, were that our undefeated season had met its end.
Not if I have anything to say about it.
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My brain was turned into mush after two hours of film study where Coach Vaughn, Coach Donovan the offensive coordinator, me, my backup Andrew, and third stringer, a freshman walk-on named Jordy, shredded apart every one of USC's zone defensive plays - both successful and unsuccessful - in their first four games of this season. The Trojans by far were the toughest defensive team we'd faced so far. Just like in high school, Jake's offensive was, in my opinion, stoic and predictable yet efficient and effective.
Ten minutes after Coach concluded the offensive film review meeting, I pounded my body in the post-game's lighter version of our workout. Greg stood at the edge of my exercise bike, where my legs burned even though I'd set the resistance level at half its normal left.
"What?" I panted out at his pensive look, his large hand rubbed over chin as small beads of sweat formed at my hairline.
"Next week I want you to try the pool." He frowned at the time on my bike, which indicated I'd only pedaled for six minutes. Like the day after any game, my legs generally felt like cement whether they moved or not.
"Pool?" I echoed with raised eyebrows. So far the only bodies who worked out in the pool were seniors.
"Better for your joints," he quipped with an arched eyebrow. "One of the aerobics instructors offered to let you join in a class."
