Coach Ramirez walked in with an iPad under one arm, Starbucks in hand. He set both on the table and looked around the room with a piercing gaze.
“Children, phones fucking down!”
Tank slid the tablet away. Ramirez clicked the remote and the screen switched to game film that ran defensive fronts, coverage shells, motion tendencies.
For thirty minutes the room belonged to route combinations and blitz indicators. Piper was happy to get a break from himself.
Then Ramirez clicked to a new cut-up of Seattle. Noah on coaches’ tape, bare-bones, ugly angles, the mechanics you wouldn’t see on television. The moments when Noah’s feet got too wide, and the times he trusted his arm more than the design of the play.
On the tape, Noah ripped a throw, his body torquing through the impact. Sweat dripping down his face in buckets, his stomach pulled tight.
Ramirez let the clip run twice. “What do you see?”
A backup started to answer, but Ramirez cut him off with a look and pointed at Piper. “Ashton!”
“He climbs too late against interior pressure. He gets away with it because his release is fast.”
“What else?”
“He trusts deep windows he shouldn’t, because they are the size of a fucking asshole,” Piper replied as the room erupted in laughter.
“Cute, and why does that matter?”
“Because eventually one of those turns into a turnover.”
“Good.”
Beside him, Tank muttered into his coffee. “You sound like you’ve been thinking about him all week.”
Piper stayed put. “Tank, not fucking today. Do you think coach feels like I’m distracted or something else?”
“He is thinking something about you that’s for fucking sure,” Tank replied.
Piper headed toward the training room and found Vivienne leaning against the wall outside in Manolo Blahnik heels expensive enough to hurt, and Prada sunglasses.
“You’re avoiding me, and that is never a good idea.”
“I’m on my way to treatment.”
“Excellent. We can multitask.”
She walked beside him, her heels striking the concrete floor. “There’s a Reddit thread popping off. The title isEnemies on the field. Something else off it?I’m not going to make you read it. I just need you to know it exists. I couldn't care less about Reddit swamp trash, but it’s already circulating in group chats with the people who sign both our checks.”
“Is there a point to this?”
“Yes. You are now a storyline, not a person. Congratulations. I need you not to do anything stupid, or I’ll have to start billing you for emotional damages on top of my usual percentage.”
Piper kept walking. She kept up.
“I’m serious, Piper.”
“I know.”
“You have dinner tomorrow with the luxury watch people. Please say less than you want to. Do not freelance, Piper, and if anyone asks about Noah, your official answer is, ‘He throws a nice ball.’”
“I never freelance.”
“Girl, that sounded dishonest.”
