The Junior (College Years 3)

I grin. Laugh. I can’t help it. I’ve never done something like that before. Made such a great play.

It feels fucking amazing.

And thank Christ for that first play interception because the Rebels give us a run for it the entire first half. For every touchdown we make, they do the same. Until they’re actually leading us by one touchdown at the end of the second quarter.

Damn it.

“I can’t even believe I’m saying this, but none of you—not a single one of you—are playing like shit,” Coach announces in the locker room at halftime. “You’re all bringing your best out onto that goddamn field. It’s just that those damn Rebels are on their home turf and they’re our equals. And right now, they’re better than us.”

We all sit quietly, dejected. Even after the most amazing play of my life—damn I hope my dad saw that—I feel down and out.

“So gather up some steam boys, and play your fucking hearts out during the second half. Show those Rebels what you’ve got. They play hard? You play harder. They run fast? You run faster. They hit you? You demolish them. And Bennett, throw that fucking ball as if your life depends on it. As if your girlfriend says she’s going to quit sucking your dick forever if you don’t win this fuckin’ game,” Coach says, his voice rising.

“You got it, Coach!” Eli yells amid a few chuckles.

“Burke!” Coach points at me and I sit up straighter. “That was a miracle run during that first play, kid. Nicely done. I’d ask you to do it again, but magic like that doesn’t happen twice in a single game.”

“Thanks,” I tell him, pleased as fuck. I never get called out for doing something good in the locker room. Or at practice. Hell, anytime. I’m just another grunt on the defensive line who blocks. I haven’t caught an interception since my junior year in high school.

Here I am four years later, doing it again my junior year in college.

“What the hell, man? That was awesome,” Diego says when he approaches me after Coach’s speech. “Sorry I gave you shit before the game started. You put all that nervous energy to good use.”

“Thanks, man.” We perform our usual elaborate handshake. Diego doesn’t hand out compliments easily. They have to be earned in his eyes, so it feels good, hearing his praise. And his apology. “I don’t even know how that happened.”

“Right place, right time,” Tony says as he comes up to us. “Lucky fucker.”

He says that last bit with a grin, making us laugh.

“More like fast fucker,” Eli adds when he joins us. “You set the tone for the game, bro.”

I get real serious, real quick. “I want to win this game.”

“Me too,” Diego says, his tone grim.

“We will,” Tony says with all that quiet confidence of his.

“Then let’s fucking do it!” Eli shouts.

We head back out onto the football field, the entire team quiet. Solemn. I sit out the first part of the third quarter, the defensive coach replacing me with someone else. A fast, big kid who’s a sophomore and not afraid to take a hit. They’re saving me up and letting me rest for a little bit longer. Coach is worried I burned myself out on that first play, but I am still a bundle of energy, my knee bouncing as I sit on the bench, making the entire thing rattle and earning glares from all my teammates sitting on the bench with me.

I leap to my feet and start pacing behind the bench, unable to stay still. I want back out on the field, but I’m also pleased we kept them from scoring that go around. I offer up high fives to the defense as they all jog off the field, my heart in my throat as Eli and the rest of the offense run out and get into position.

Thank Christ, they score.

And we keep on scoring. Until we’re in the lead by only one touchdown.

The back and forth is killing me—killing everyone in the stands too. Frustration ripples throughout the stadium, and I know everyone in this place just wants to win.

Including myself, of course.

When they finally let me back out onto the field, I’m ready. My blood is pumping hot, and I settle into position opposite the Rebels’ offensive line, glaring at them from behind my helmet. They glare back, one of them sneering. Another one cursing at me under his breath.

I just grin. Bring on the hatred, boys. It’ll just blind you to my fast moves.

I lunge for them, knocking heads, but I shake it off. We get back into position once again and this time, I run, trying my damnedest to block so they don’t catch the ball. I turn, my gaze on the sky, searching for the ball when I spot it.

Miracle of all miracles, it’s heading straight for me.