Page 90 of Lavender and Linebackers

The game today feels different from all the other games that we’ve played. I’ve tried to pin down what it is, but mostly, things are the same. The sun is out in its blazing force, like it always is. The stadium is full of fans. And we’ve already played this team before. The only thing I can come up with is that the post-hurricane community togetherness feels stronger, I’m incredibly happy after spending the entire weekend with Alice, and that I’m the mic’d-up player today for Monday Night Football.

I’m also really fucking happy.

This morning, Coach Williams called me in for a meeting and told me to bring Alice. I guess Sully got to him before I could. We were to meet him in the same conference room that started this reconciliation with her almost three months ago. After my conversation with Sully, we knew where this was headed, but what we didn’t expect was to find her coach there too, as well as a representative from HR. Turns out, we aren’t the first relationship to come forward, and given our circumstances, they had no problem having us each sign a document. One that Coach called a “Love Contract.”

It’s a consensual relationship agreement and a conflict-of-interest disclosure. It states that both parties agree the relationship is voluntary, we are expected to follow company conduct policies, and it protects the Tarpons from any liabilities should our relationship end.

The whole meeting was done in less than ten minutes, and this time, when we walked out those front doors, I held her hand. I might have also dipped her backward and kissed her in front of anyone who was there to see. Zero fucks given. I want the world to know.

I hate that we wasted time worrying about something that, in the end, no one really seemed too concerned about. For as much as they enforce the handbook, and I get it, I do, I feel like the stress was unnecessary. They didn’t care. In fact, I almost wonder if they were encouraging it? I just received my quarterly merchandise sales report, and I was told that I have the highest sales ever of a rookie for our franchise. Yes, we have our campaign, but the two can’t be coincidental.

“How come they picked you to be mic’d up tonight?” Rico asks as we’re standing in the red zone during a commercial time-out. The hydration team has just run on and off, as we catch our breath, suck down some water, and recuperate during this two-minute break. We’re about to head into halftime, and currently the score is zero to zero. We can feel them trying to apply offensive pressure, but with complete cockiness I can state that we’re better.

“They picked him because he’s more interesting than you. Better looking too,” Logan teases.

Above us, the Skycam zooms by, and I glance up, realizing I have to squint. The lights feel extra bright tonight, and I love it. I take a moment to soak in the vibe, the crowd, my team . . . it’s this, this right here, that I worked so hard to achieve. While playing in college was incredible, this is something entirely different. There’s such a small percentage of us who actually make it to this level, an elite level. I have to force myself not to become emotional. It’s also pretty nice to know that my girl is here somewhere, and when she’s not facing the fans, she’s watching me.

Just like we always dreamed she would be.

“Bullshit. Everyone loves me, especially the ladies.”

All of us in the huddle groan.

“What?” He throws out his hands. “You know it’s true.”

“You spend more time thinking about women than any other dude I have ever met.” J.J. scowls.

“What’s so bad about that?” he counters.

“What I know to be true is this season Ryder’s face is outside on the side of the stadium. Where is yours?” Sully asks him.

He backs up a step. “About that?”

Sully holds up his hand. “Just stop. Now is not the time. What you need to be focused on is how we’re going to keep this ball out of their end zone. Listen up, in film this week, every game this team has attempted to pass for the six. Let’s assume that.” He looks at Miles for him to call the play.

“Red zone. Double A blitz. Man across the board. Inside leverage. Watch the slant. Balls coming out quick. Remember, eyes up.”

What that means is two linebackers threaten the middle gaps, it’s man-to-man coverage, and we should all expect the ball to come out fast. Quick pass, total awareness.

If the ball comes to my side, this kind of play is perfect for Rico or me, as he’s my cornerback. It shouldn’t surprise me that Sully knows the play calls. After all, he and Coach Williams have worked together for years, but it still does.

The time-out ends, and we line up. I eye the receiver across from me and taunt him with a smile. Not today, guy. Not today. I’m having the best day, and no one is going to get by me.

Sure enough, their quarterback tries a quick slant. Rico is being double-team blocked, and at the last second, one sees me and peels off. But unfortunately, he’s too late. The quick pass, I hit the spot just inside their wide receiver to snatch the ball over my shoulder, and faintly I hear the volume in the stadium increase exponentially. I’m too busy trying to zone out any shift in players headed my way, and I react.

All those hours I’ve put into conditioning and working on increasing my speed, damn if it didn’t just pay off.

I catch the ball.

Pivoting and dodging, I take off and begin to run the eighty-five yards toward our end zone like a man on fire. I don’t know who is following me, or how close they are. It doesn’t matter. Nothing is going to stop me. My arms are pumping, the force of my breaths is all I hear under the helmet, and my eyes are locked in on our goal line on the opposite side of the field. Our side.

Camden can say he’s the fastest, but at this moment, I know it’s me.

All season, seasoned players from other teams have taunted me, harassed me, done whatever they needed to do to make me think that because I’m a rookie, I haven’t arrived yet, but today, with this one play, I have. Clutching the ball as hard as I can, I run right over the white line.

I just scored my first professional touchdown.

Fireworks shoot off from the upper rim of the stadium, cannons fire, and the Tarpons customized themed touchdown music blares throughout the stadium.