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He raises an eyebrow but nods all the same. “Whenever you're ready, just let me know.”
“Jasmine'll be there watching," I hint, knowing that was part of what we needed to discuss.
He briefly looks away before replying, “Yeah, she will be out tonight.” I saw the faintest sign of a blush on his face before he looked away. Why in the hell is my brother blushing? Eddie Richards hasn’t blushed since he fell in love with Alexandria. It’s good to see him show joy, even though he’s trying his best to hide it.
I slide into my cleats and ask, “You like her, don’t you?”
“Look, Wayne. She’s nice, but it’s nothing like that.”
“So, why did you just blush?”
He attempts to squash my suspicions with a wave of his hand. He kisses his teeth to boot. “I don’t blush, little brother. Just focus on the game, and we’ll talk later.” He gives me another pat on the back before walking out of the locker room, tossing, “Good luck,” over his shoulder.
Eddie isn’t the type to avoid a conversation, but he’s avoiding talking about Jasmine. He feels something for her. Something I never realized before since he has been in a constant state of mourning Alexandria and protesting me publicizing my relationship. I never really took the time to observe how he and Jasmine interacted because it was never a thing. Now, I’m wondering if I missed the signs that they were attracted to one another before.
I close my locker just as Jeremiah walks over.
“You ready to throw me that rock for some TDs, Richards?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I reply.
He rubs his hands together in a greedy motion. “That’s not going to be good enough for me. I’m going to need you to tossme that rock. I got a beautiful lady cheering for me, so you gotta make me look good out there. Put it in my hands, and I’ll run it in,” Jeremiah says.
“Don’t I always throw the ball to you?” I ask, doing everything not to look alarmed that he’s talking about Jasmine cheering for him. My brother was just in here, blushing and all, at the mention of her name. My soon-to-be sister-in-law has two men who never pine over a woman salivating over her. She will clearly break one of their hearts—if she doesn’t break them both.
Rich, the philosopher, butts in, “The late and great Kobe Bryant once said: I'll do whatever it takes to win games, whether sitting on a bench waving a towel, handing a cup of water to a teammate, or hitting the game-winning shot.”
Jeremiah smirks. “Listen, I’m not on my KB tonight. I’m on JT, meaning I need to run that ball. I got something to prove.”
“What do you have to prove, man? You’re always in the spotlight,” Terrance counters from across the room. From his tone, I know his eyes are rolling. “Everyone knows your stats.”
“All that matters is that we’re winning tonight. Whatever it takes to get that win is what we’ll do,” Mark chimes in. “We’re going to the bowl as a team.”
As if on cue, the coach storms in like a man on a mission and gives his pregame speech. It’s not a regular pep talk but an Eric Thomas style motivational speech reminding us that we can, we will, and we must win the game. Coach drives home that losing is not an option. He ends on a resolute note that we are already champions.
When he finishes, I begin our “We Ready!” chant. Jeremiah joins in, followed by the rest of the team. We march out to the field with enough testosterone to flip an eighteen-wheeler.
When I step onto the green, I put everything happening off the field aside to focus on driving plays to the endzone. My number one priority is my family, but at game time, I have tokeep my head in the game to avoid letting my team down or, worse, getting injured. As the quarterback, I’m a prime target, and they are coming for me, so I have to stay one step ahead of the opponent.
*
The game is a tight one. The Raider’s defense has only given up two touchdowns. The first came from Jeremiah hurdling over a defensive lineman, landing on his feet and beasting into the endzone. The other touchdown came from a Hail Mary pass where we were on our fourth down and needed a completed pass desperately. During the play, the defense had pushed me back five yards when I found Terrance and tossed the ball fifty one yards into the endzone.
Now, in the fourth quarter with about three minutes left, the score is 17-14. We’re down by three with the offense on the field. Judging by the close score, the Raiders didn’t come to play with us. They are actually wearing us down on the field. This game has been running super close since I haven’t been able to deliver enough passes and touchdowns for a comfortable lead. And now we’re down three.
“Throw me that brick,” Jeremiah yells as we head back out onto the field from a huddle.
“This touch-down is ours,” Rich echoes.
The whole offensive line is pumped. We’re about to score on this play. The noisy stadium, filled with team cheer squads, raging fans and music, goes silent. Once the ball is hiked, I fixate on finding my receiver. I lean back into the pocket and get good coverage from my offensive line. Jeremiah goes hella deep and I land a forty yard pass in the center of his chest. He pivots left then right and runs into the end zone.
The play sounds like something out of a football fairytale, but like hell if we didn’t just make it. The crowd goes so wild that I can hardly hear myself think. We’re ahead, and all the defensehas to do is hold the other team from scoring for the next two minutes.
Two minutes later, it’s clear our defensive linemen are pure savages. They’ve denied the other team a score and sent the Washington Saints to the Super Bowl.
If we were pumped enough to flip an eighteen-wheeler before the game, we can flip two now. Everyone is excited about getting to play on the biggest football game night of the year. As supporters swarm the field, team members give each other hugs and high-fives. We’re too pumped.
Reporters begin accosting players as we attempt to celebrate. “Wayne, how do you feel about your win tonight?” Sam Winters asks as she hustles in my direction with a microphone thrust out in front of her.
