Seam Route

chapter ten

Parker

"Move those feet!" Leo, our trainer, screamed at us.

Inside and out, we've been practicing each play. Play by play for a week now. I got a fine for missing practice. I've had to get my shit together and learn the ins and outs of my role for each different play.

Xavier has all the plays on his arm, stuck to his glove to flip through whenever he wants. It's hot here, and we've had continuous water breaks.

Over and over again.

"Let's move onto the next one," Xavier tells the guys.

"No," I interject.

Xavier throws his head back annoyed, "I think we got the basic grasp on this play."

"A basic grasp isn't enough, we need to perfect it," I look around at my teammates, "You guys say you want to be competitors, but you're not acting like it."

"Oh yeah? How are we going to get there?" One of the players ask.

I don't even think for a second about my response, "Defense moves way too slow, giving our offence way too much time. Xavier you hold the ball for a tad too long. Runningbacks, you're too fucking predictable with your runs."

My teammate's gazes hold varying reactions. Some are understanding, and a ton of them look at me with disbelief in a 'why-the-fuck-is-he-talking?' kind of way.

There's immediate silence, no one has yet to reply to what I just said. And I don't give a flying fuck, I said what I said. And they better listen because I'm fucking right regardless of the rookie bullshit.

"He's right," Marty speaks up, "We can't be half-assin' shit anymore. We gotta go all-in."

I don't know if it's his Southern drawl, but the guys listen to him. Every single one of their expressions morphs into acceptance. 

He's got to be manipulating them somehow, he's got to have something on them to make them care about what he says.

"You're right." One of our running backs concedes.

"You hit the nail on the head," Another teammate acknowledged to Marty.

The guys cheer in agreement, and I stand there shocked. When I say something, they usually do it hesitantly. With Marty, they agree enthusiastically like he spoke words from God itself.

"Okay, how about we get you Pussies cooled off!" Leo clasps his hands together with a hard smile.

Everyone scampers off, taking a small break. I yank my helmet off, pop open a sports drink, and take a huge swig of it. Marty sits down beside me, and instead is drinking water. I use a towel to wipe the sweat off my head.

At first, we just sit there, exchanging no words. The only noise you could hear was us sipping on fluids before we inevitably had to spend another hour out there working our asses off.

"You did well out there," Marty acknowledges while huffing and puffing. I take it him and the sun don't get along that much. Not many places to find shade when you're 6'6.

I ignored his compliment, "You seemed to get them motivated."

He lets out a little chuckle, "I just echoed what you said."

"And it worked." My words were bitter, but I kept my usual emotionless, factual tone so he didn't suspect anything.

"I guess it did," He shrugs, "It worked because they trust me."

And they didn't trust me? I wanted to yell. They should fucking trust me, I care about this team winning more than anyone else does. I care about this team's success.