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“What do you think about Cosech starting tonight?” she asked .
“He’s been working through the drills and running these plays all season. He’s ready. And I’m really happy he gets a Monday night start .”
I rolled my eyes. I knew none of that was true. Wes was pissed the other guy was on the field instead of him, but at the same time, I was amazed at how convincing he could be. Becky sure seemed to believe him .
“Thanks for taking a minute for me, Wes .”
“Anything for you, Becky.” He tapped her on the back before turning toward his team’s bench .
I knew I was shooting daggers at my television screen, and I didn’t care. Professional flirt didn’t even begin to cover what he was. I settled onto the couch to watch the game. The first quarter was about to start .
Thirteen
Wes
T hat damn Becky Haley had to ask about my hand. I hoped without the sling it would look normal. As if the team had intentionally started Cosech to rest me up for the bigger, more important games coming up after the bye week. At least she didn’t ask for details on the sprain .
I grabbed a set of headphones and listened in to the plays coming in from the offensive coordinator in the booth at the top of the stadium. I couldn’t see Ross from down here, but I knew he had eagle eyes on the field. He was plotting the Warriors’ defense before they were .
I heard the play call and groaned. They had to change things to match Cosech’s abilities. He didn’t have the arm I had, but running every damn play wasn’t going to work. I watched as the quarterback handed the ball off to Persons and watched the running back get tackled before he even crossed the line of scrimmage. Fuck .
There were enough Warriors fans in the stadium to jeer at us. I looked up at the booth, knowing Ross was scrambling for another play. He called in another run, this time to the right .
Again, the Warriors read the call and Persons barely made it two yards. It was third down and I could feel it. We were going nowhere on this drive. But I kept my mouth shut. Cameras were on me. Fans were watching me. I had to act as if this was all part of our offensive plan to upend the Warriors’ defense. I tried to relax my shoulders and flatten the furrow on my brow, but I was fucking pissed. We blew the last play and had to punt .
Cosech ran off the field and over to where I was standing .
“That sucked,” he breathed .
“Yeah, they read your every play .”
“What do you think I should do?” he asked .
The guy was a second year quarterback. No one every expected him to play. He barely got a touch on the ball in practice. This week was his first foray into our routes, our plays, our calls. I felt sorry for the kid .
“Look,” I slung an arm around his shoulder. “They can read your eyes. You’re not looking downfield like you’re going to pass it. You look right at Persons the whole time.” I sighed. “You’ve got to keep your eyes moving constantly. Keep them guessing. They won’t know if you’re going to throw short, long, or hand it off .”
He nodded. “I’ll try it .”
I knocked him on the back. “Don’t try it. Fucking do it,” I snapped at him .
I couldn’t believe this. Our entire season I had won games. We had won, and now this moron was on the field. We had to get through tonight and in two weeks, I’d be back .
I looked at my right hand. It hurt, and I knew it wasn’t anywhere near capable of throwing a pass, let alone picking up a football. I was going to have to have help .
* * *
I sat on the table, waiting for Dr. Jones. I knew that wasn’t his real name. He’d never tell me, or anyone, what it actually was. And I wasn’t going to ask. That was how this worked .
A nurse came in with a tray of syringes and placed them on a table next to me .
“The doctor will be in any minute.” She smiled, then left .
I wasn’t the kind of man to hesitate or second guess my decisions. This had to be done. It was the only way. The point in life was to win. It was to be stronger and better than everyone else .
My dad beat that philosophy into me. I had every trophy to prove it. Every title. Every recognition, except the Super Bowl .
I waited for Dr. Jones. The man who entered the room had a pointy nose and gray hair just above his ears .
