Possessive Coach

“I know that,” I say. “I’m counting on it.”

He gives me a look and lets out a breath. He shakes his head. “Anything bad happens and I’m blowing it all back on you.”

“Good. Make sure you do.” I clap his back and walk off, blowing my whistle and barking orders.

It’s a change in the regular scheduled practice, and some of the position coaches give me an odd look. They’re not used to curve balls from me, but that might be a good thing.

Hardy’s gone for the time being. I’ve got a short little window here to make a move, and I’m taking it.

The offense lines up on one side of the ball and defense takes the other. I bark out the offensive play and smile at the frown Erik gives me. It’s a screen pass, which means the offensive line is going to let the defenders get past them. Erik’s job is to run a little bit then dump the ball off to another offensive guy before the defenders get to him. In most instances, it’s pretty innocuous.

But I’m stacking the deck my way.

“Line up,” I bark and the guys fall in. Erik gives me another look and I smile back. Billy’s right up in the center of the field, practically growling like a dog. I want that kid angry, I want him real mad. Frank gives me a little smile like he knows what I’m up to.

I blow the whistle. Erik calls out then hikes the ball. He takes it, drops back, and the offensive line rushes past the defenders.

Normally in practice, the defense plays a little easy, at least with the QB. Erik’s got a red jersey on, which means he’s not supposed to take any hits. But Billy, he’s a dumb motherfucker. I’d never play a kid like that during a drill like this, much less call a damn screen pass for him.

And he reacts the way I knew he would. Erik stumbles backwards as the defensive line pulls up, but Billy doesn’t. He sprints at Erik, the big, stupid idiot bearing down on the QB. I watch with delight as Erik dumps the ball off, missing his pass, but too late.

Billy smashes into him, leveling him about as hard as he’d ever get hit. Erik slams into the ground and bounces off it before curling up into a ball on the field.

Coaches blows his whistle and the guys shove Billy away. There’s chaos as the guys and the coaches all scream at Billy, and the poor idiot backs off like he doesn’t realize what the hell he did. I force myself not to smile and glance over at Frank, who shakes his head and walks away from the field.

I have to admit, that felt really, really good.

Erik’s slow to get up. But once he’s on his feet, he only gives me a flat stare then returns to his position. I call the next play as Billy’s taken off the field and is replaced by the normal starter.

Practice goes on. Erik’s a little slower than normal, a little sluggish, but he keeps it up. I watch him carefully, looking for any sign of injury. Part of me hopes that hit just knocked some damn sense into him, but I doubt it.

At the end of practice, the guys do their normal jog around the field, drink some water, then head inside. Erik walks past me and gives me a look, but he doesn’t say anything. I’m not sure if he’s waiting until we’re in private, or if he doesn’t realize that I set that up. Either way, I don’t think I care.

I’m just happy he got clobbered, the little fuck. I know it won’t change anything, but it was a start.

I head into the locker room, talking with the QB coach, when Hardy barks my name from his office. “Duty calls,” I say, and Jeffries laughs as I head over to Hardy’s office.

“Yes, sir?” I ask.

He gives me a look. “Shut the door.”

I nod and close it behind me. “What can I do for you, Hardy?”

“Heard Erik took a hit today.”

“That idiot Billy whatever went a little wild during practice,” I say casually.

“Billy, huh,” Hardy says. “That’s the boy we’re cutting, right?”

“That’s right,” I say. “I wanted another look at him. Needless to say, that look didn’t go well.”

“Seems odd you’d want to call a screen play,” Hardy says. “That’s not a big part of our playbook.”

“Still something we gotta practice,” I say.

He gives me a long look and doesn’t speak. I stand there, staring right back at him. I want him to know that I set that up, that I did it on purpose. I’m not even a little ashamed. Erik deserves much worse.

“I know you don’t like that boy,” Hardy says, his voice quiet. “But he’s our damn meal ticket. You see that, don’t you?”