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They both helped Luis up, holding the weights so they didn’t slip off his shoulders. They racked the weight, and Luis leaned over, grabbing his knees. “That’s the guy who hit you?”
“Yeah.” Hud tossed Luis a towel. “He had targeted the wideout a few plays before, and the guy went down with a dislocated shoulder. Smalls should have been tossed.”
“But Marshall didn’t call the penalty.”
“I don’t know how she missed it,” Toby said. “He was like a bull to a red flag. But she just called an incomplete pass. And Hud went in for the injured receiver. Two plays later, they were carrying him off the field on a stretcher.” He looked at Hud. “Was she paid off? It was a championship game.”
Now that he knew Iris? “She wouldn’t do that.”
Toby raised an eyebrow. “Really. You know her that well? Something going on between you two?”
“No. We’re—we’re just…listen, she’s a good official. And that was a long time ago.”
“Dude, what are you talking about? You still have headaches, and everyone here knows that one more bad hit—”
“I’m over it. Listen, I gotta help Max with Felix. The kid is a disaster.” He turned to jog away.
“But we have another rep!”
“Take a look at Luis and say that!”
Toby took a couple steps toward him. “And you’re not over it—you’re in denial because she’s cute!”
Hudson looked back at him and drew his hand across his neck. C’mon, bro. The last thing he needed was shade thrown his direction about the lady official.
Especially since she was out of his life, thank you. No turning back.
Toby shook his head and threw his towel down.
Hudson exited the gym, the big doors open to the field, and ran over to where Felix still lay on the ground, his chin up, eyes on Coach Max, who stood ten feet away, parallel with his head.
Felix was getting antsy, slamming his fist into the ground when he missed another pass.
“Find the nose, then watch the pass all the way into your hands,” Hud said. He lay down next to Felix. “Watch.”
He looked up, then gestured to Coach Max. “Bring it!”
Max fired off a bullet. Hud caught it in his vision, followed it, then at the last second, brought up his hands and nabbed it.
“Nice catch,” Felix said.
“See how I snapped up my hands, at the last second?” He sat up. “When you’re running, you need to pump your arms. If you have your hands outstretched, it’ll slow you down. Plus, the safety will see you coming. He’ll be all over you. Let’s go again.”
He lay back. “Shoot it at me, Coach!”
Again, the bullet. Again, Hud shot up his hands, caught it. “Laces.” Then he tucked it.
“Why did you saylaces?”
He tossed the ball back, then sat up again. “I want my brain to register that I got it, so I name the identifying mark on the ball—the laces, the stamp. I hold it for two seconds, then tuck. In a game, it’ll be reflex. But it forces you to see the ball into your hands before you tuck.”
“And keeps you from fumbling,” Coach Max said, coming up. “Good coaching there, Bly.”
Hudson got up. “Don’t forget to extend to the highest point—when you’re standing, it’ll keep you out of the way of the defender. I’m hitting the mat for the box jumps.”
He walked over to the mat where the running backs were jumping with one leg to a high mat. Coach Clay was watching, arms folded.
“Hey, Coach,” Hud said. “Who’s this?”
