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Kendall
It all camedown to this.
As far as our record was concerned, the final game of the preseason was completely irrelevant. But I was still treating it like it was the most important game I’d ever played because,well, it kind of was.
Not that it would be theonlything the coaches took into consideration whenever they decided who the starting quarterback would be. But it would be the last thing they saw before making said decision. And I was determined to leave the best impression that I could, completely locked in as I ran through my usual pregame warmup drills, used music to get my mind right in the locker room, and then hit the field to the roars from the Skyhawks fans who,after the way I’d played in the first two preseason games, actually seemed happy to see me.
Knowing just how fair-weather their support could be, I refused to let the hype get to my head, instead choosing to focus on getting my team ready for what we were about to do. And after a few words from Hawk followed by a few words from me, it was go time, my body pumping with such a high level of adrenaline that I honestly felt anxious as I watched the opening kickoff.
Since we weren’t the receiving team, there was quite a bit of time before it was my turn to hit the field, giving me a chance to settle my nerves as I watched our defense go to work. And really, seeing how good they were playing only made me want to match the energy, a sack by Gerald on third down getting me hyped enough to yell, “Let’s go!” as I jogged to grab my helmet, yanked it onto my head, and then said a quick prayer asking God to keep me safe before making my way out onto the field.
Even though our punt returner had gotten us decent field position, there was still plenty of work to be done. But if there was anyone who could handle it, it was me, pure instincts taking over as I clapped my hands to receive my first snap, then dropped back for a quick pass towards the middle of the field.
Ironically enough, it was the same play that had gotten my ass in trouble last year. But this time, it worked exactly how it was supposed to, the ball clearing the lineman’s hands and landing right in the chest of my tight end who fell to the ground and popped right back up so that he could properly celebrate the first down.
While he was busy pointing his arm towards our end zone, I was already onto the next play, quickly getting the call from the speaker in my helmet before yelling it out to my team. And once again, a single clap had the ball in my hands, this time for a faked handoff turned deep pass downfield towards Hunter that he caught just before he was pushed out of bounds at about the ten-yard line.
Considering how easily our offense was moving the ball, I shouldn’t have been surprised when shit stalled out a little bit in the red zone, Tampa Bay’s defense finally waking up and getting back-to-back stops that swung the momentum more in their favor. But I didn’t let that rattle me, staying completely composed as I lined up for third down, called out the play, then called an audible before taking the snap.
Originally, the play was just going to be a handoff to the running back. But instead, I faked it as I rolled out for a pass. And after seeing that neither of my receivers were immediately open, I pump-faked then took off running towards the end zone, the gap between Tampa Bay’s defenders just wide enough for me to squeeze through for our first score of the game.
Since my freshman year of college, my touchdown celebration hadn’t changed.
Spin the ball like a bottle onto the ground.
Point my finger to the sky.
Pat my chest three times.
And today was no different, though I couldn’t help putting a little extra swag on it that had Hunter yelling, “Yeahhh, Snoop!” before he smacked me upside my helmet.
Once I made it to the sidelines, a few of the other players and coaches showed me love the same way, including my competition who I was sure couldn’t wait to get his chance in the second half. But until then, it was all about me. And I wasn’t taking the opportunity for granted, doing everything I could to make it obvious who the starter should be.
By the end of the second quarter, I felt like I had it in the bag, especially since our team was up by two touchdowns going into halftime. But when ol’ boy took over in the third, it was clear he was determined to make a point too, looking every bit of a starting quarterback as he moved the ball downfield with ease and then extended our lead with a touchdown pass.
As his competitor, I was nervous as hell, mainly because I knew his performance wouldreallybe the last thing on the coaches’ minds. But as a team player, I was happy for him since him doing well meant we were doing well as a squad, and that’s what was most important.
Right?
Yeah, the shit sounded bogus in my head too. But that was the name of the game; battling it out with your teammates through training camp and preseason just to go to war as a family once it was all said and done. And at this point, I could only hope that I’d be selected to lead the charge; though I would’ve been lying if I didn’t admit how big of an ego blow it was when,after another touchdown, a sizable section of the crowd started chanting, “We want Dylan! We want Dylan!”
Nowthey were rooting for ol’ boy like they hadn’t spent a decent chunk of last season booing his ass.
And like they weren’t just on my dick earlier.
Shit was crazy.
As if he knew I needed to hear it, Hunter came over towards where I was standing to say, “He ain’t really got shit on you, bro. He just looks good cause Tampa Bay got their future practice squad out there right now.”
I knew there was some truth to what he’d said. But considering how well Dylan was playing, I couldn’t help but wonder if the truth would even matter, the uncertainty of it all weighing on me heavily as I watched the final quarter of the game from the sidelines. And even when it was over, I didn’t exactly feel relieved since it wasn’t like a decision was being announced tonight, leaving me desperate for something to take my mind off the entire situation.
Crazy enough, I found exactly that when I got back to the locker room and checked my phone.
“Hey. So I know I’d sort of left it up to you when we’d link up, but I’m having a few folks over for dinner tonight and thought I’d extend the invite in case you wanted to come through and grab a plate.” - Shakira
“OH. And I promise you there won’t be any paparazzi lol.” - Shakira
Grinning at her second text, I reread the first just as Hunter was walking past, her mention of a few folks prompting me to ask him, “Yo, did Shakira text you about some dinner she’s having tonight?”
