Sidelined

“That’s good shit.” He slapped me on the back.

“Thanks for the drink.”

He pointed to the bartender. “Another round.”

Shit, he was just getting started. I took the second round and it went down smoother than the first.

“I know where to find you tomorrow night, don’t I?” he asked.

“Hell, yeah. The end zone.”

Wes was part of the reason my numbers had broken so many records. He liked throwing to me. And it worked. We were a winning combination.

“Just keep open.” He winked.

“Shouldn’t be a problem with the defense the Warriors run.”

We both laughed. We had a right to be cocky and arrogant. We were defending national champions. We earned the fucking right to boast. Not only that, but any chance to take a crack at the Warriors, we took.

Wes’s eyebrows waggled. “Check that out.” He tipped his head and I followed his eyes.

A group of girls walked through the doors and headed for the bar. Every one of the Wranglers had noticed them. It was hard not to. There was no one else here and they were hot as fuck. Each one of them had long hair, killer hips, and a set of tits that we’d all like to get buried in. As they walked past our table, I could smell the expensive perfumes and lotions they wore. It was like walking past a makeup counter in a department store. My teammates’ heads had all pivoted in one direction.

“Shit,” I whispered under my breath.

“Fuck is more like it.” Wes chuckled. I guess I wasn’t that quiet.

I kept my ass planted on the barstool while most of the team saddled up to the bar, shoving each other out of the way to buy the first round of drinks. This was trouble. Every one of those girls was a distraction to my buddies.

Some of the guys had wives or girlfriends. Hell, some even had kids. But when a group of women like that walked in, they had the power to erase all memories.

“Not getting in on that?” Wes asked. We stared at our teammates.

“Nah.” I shook my head. “I’m focused on the game. Not getting a piece of ass tonight.”

I could tell he didn’t approve. “You threw one hell of a Dean last year.”

“Thanks.” At the time, it was my crowning achievement, but there was more going on now. I had stats to back up my reputation, and I needed even more to get that bonus.

“So why are you holding back now? Seems like your kind of scene.”

I leaned closer to him. “I have a season policy. Can we leave it at that?”

“Ahh, one of those fuckers.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I snapped.

“You think you can only have fun in the off-season. I know the type. I just didn’t realize you were one of them.”

“I still have fun. I just don’t get involved with women. The game is more important.”

Wes stared at me. “No football player is that good. You start blocking out what’s around you, and you lose the game. You can’t act like there aren’t women on this earth for six months. Too much focus is bullshit, Sam. This isn’t baseball. Let those guys have their weird superstitions. Football players don’t do those damn things.”

“So you think getting shit-faced the night before a game and screwing some random girl is going to help us win tomorrow?”

He stood from the table. “Take my advice however you want. But I’ve been in the game long enough to know that extreme anything is never good.” He pressed his heavy hand on my shoulder and whispered in my ear. “Technically, the season doesn’t start until tomorrow, so you’re not breaking any rules tonight.” He slapped me once again and walked away.

I had to laugh. If anyone thought Wes Blakefield was the team leader who would mentor a rookie into taking the path of righteousness, they didn’t know the man. I’d probably never get that type of advice again in my career.