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1
Luke
I pulled my jersey over my head and gazed around the locker room with pride. I couldn’t believe I was here. Since the day my mom gave me a toy football for my fifth birthday, my entire life had been building toward this day.
I’ve finally made it.
I doubted that anyone else in the locker room had the same butterflies I did. They were all pros. Dallas Lockett was speaking quietly to the coach, a confident smile on his face. Brody Carter, who was wearing nothing but a cowboy hat and his jock strap, was pretending to ride an invisible horse while all the linemen roared with laughter. Steve Cooper quietly gazed around the room, then gave a wink to the female Defensive Coordinator when he thought nobody was looking.
To me, they were all like superheroes ripped straight out of a comic book. Larger-than-life figures. And now I was their teammate.
I glanced at the clock on the wall. We still had some time before the game. I pulled out my phone, flashed a smile, and started an Instagram story.
“Hey everyone, it’s your boy, Luke August. I’m not going to lie: it feels weird wearing something other than Nittany Lion blue, but I like it. Stallions blue isn’t that different. The game’s about to start, and I can’t tell you how pumped I am to begin this new chapter in my life. I’m ready to prove to everyone that I was worth drafting in the first round, and that I belong here in the NFL. The National Football League. Can you believe it?” I shook my head. “It still feels like a dream. Here’s hoping I don’t wake up. Wish me luck in the comments.”
I checked the video length, then immediately posted it. No time to obsess over whether everything was perfect or not.
A hand clapped me on the back. “Hey now, partner,” Brody said, leaning into his Texas twang. “Don’t get too cocky posting TikToks and whatnot before a game. It’s bad luck, you know.”
“It was an Instagram story, actually,” I said with a grin. “But I’m trying to stay humble!”
Brody shook his head. “Seems like just yesterday I was your age. Now I feel like the old man on the team with ten years under his belt.” He gripped my shoulder and leaned in. “You never forget your first game. Be sure to take the time to soak it all in. You made it, kid.”
I beamed as Brody walked away. He pretended to draw two invisible revolvers and shoot at one of the other players, who rolled his eyes and tried to towel-whip the tight end.
By the time I finished lacing up my cleats, Dallas Lockett was addressing the locker room. His voice carried with both volume and authority, and all other conversations immediately trailed off.
“The Salt Lake City Stallions have only been in this league seven years, and we already have two championships.” He paused as the surrounding players cheered and hooted. “But that’s not enough. Not for me, it’s not. No team has ever won three Super Bowls in a row. Not the Cowboys. Not the Steelers. Not even the Patriots. We have a chance to do somethingincrediblethis season. And it starts today. Who is with me?”
The locker room erupted in cries of assent, fists pounding on lockers and feet stomping on the ground until the room itself seemed to shake. Goosebumps rose up on my arms as we grabbed our helmets and filed toward the tunnel.
Douglas Dunlap was next to me on the way out, and when he saw me, he grinned. “Lead us to the promised land, boy wonder!” He grabbed my head in both hands and kissed me on the forehead. “Still can’t believe we were lucky enough to draft you.”
“I feel like the lucky one,” I admitted, and it was the complete truth.
I put my helmet on, and then we were all running out onto the field. If I thought the noise in the locker room was loud, the roar from the crowd out on the field was absolutely deafening. Every seat was filled in the domed Stallions Stadium, and the air was electric. Cheers rained down on me as I ran toward the sideline, craning my neck to take it all in like Brody had said. My moms and three sisters were out there somewhere, cheering louder than anyone else.
Yep. I’ve made it all right.
The game didn’t start immediately. The Super Bowl banner was lowered from the rafters, matching the one next to it from the previous year. There was more pomp and ceremony surrounding the win, including a short speech from the team owner, but I was too busy looking up at the bleachers to hear any of it.
Finally, the coin was tossed and the opposing team—the Kansas City Chiefs—elected to receive the ball first. The ball was kicked-off, and then the game was fully underway.
“I want a three-and-out!” barked Coach Gardner, the Defensive Coordinator.
“So demanding,” replied Steve Cooper, the captain of the defense. She glared at him, and he smiled broadly while jogging onto the field with the rest of the team.
They didn’t get a three-and-out: the Chiefs quarterback scrambled for a twenty-yard gain on the first play. But the defense held him after that, and the Chiefs had to punt the ball.
I was ready to jog out onto the field for my first play, but the Offensive Coordinator didn’t call my name. Kincaid and one of the other wide receivers went out instead. I kept my head high and watched the first few plays of the game. Running back Dominic DeMarco pounded the Chiefs on the ground, and then Dallas made a tight pass across the middle of the field to Brody. First down.
“August, you’re in,” the coach shouted.
Be cool, I thought as I put my helmet on. It might have been my imagination, but the crowd noise sounded just a little bit louder as I jogged onto the field and joined the huddle.
“Fourteen Montana spider-man,” Lockett read from the play chart on his arm.
I nodded and jogged over to the left side of the field, taking my position for the play. This was an out route, which meant I would run straight down the sideline without any fancy movements. All the nervousness faded away as I stepped up to the line. Nearly two decades of muscle memory was taking over, preparing me to sprint forward. The Chiefs cornerback watched me with a smile on his face.
