Chapter 28
Landon
MID-JULY, FRIDAY BEFORE TRAINING CAMP STARTS
LANDON: Good morning, beautiful. What time will you get here tonight?
RORI (NEW): Morning. Missed sleeping in that enormous football player bed last night.
RORI (NEW): 6:45ish. Getting to know the route by heart
LANDON: Missed you in my bed. After three nights in a row, I was spoiled.
RORI (NEW): Yeah, thankfully I’ll be able to come every night now until you go to camp.
LANDON: That’s what I like to hear.
RORI (NEW): Dad was at last night’s birthday dinner for Julie. The way he looked at her…I swear, I’m not making this all up.
LANDON: A lot of secret sneaking around happening for the Reilly’s
RORI (NEW): Touche…
“Just got off the phone with Aiden,” my PR rep Jim says over the phone.
I have him on speaker, as I’m driving to the Waves facility for the day.
“He’s not getting any push back from sponsors on the Hot Stuff article about you and Rori.
There are a couple online fan chats keeping the rumors alive, and otherwise nothing new to report. ”
Like Taylor had suggested, I’d clued Aiden and Jim in on my situation with Rori and the decision not to comment on the Hot Stuff article.
It’d been published a few days ago, but we all stayed silent, and no one else in the media seems to be biting.
Rori wouldn’t love that the rumors are still circulating, but if they stay in fan spaces, the impact should be small.
Of course, the guys on the team hadn’t missed the chance to give me shit when the article first came out. One of the veterans had cut out the article—complete with an absolutely smoking picture of Rori and me from the photo shoot—and taped it to my locker.
“Ha ha,” I’d said loudly, and the whole locker room laughed.
But other than that, it looks like our relationship is staying secret for now, as planned.
Not a secret? It’s time to get serious about the new season. After I arrive at the Waves facility, I head to one of our last defensive team meetings before training camp. The room is packed with fifty or so guys hoping to make the defensive roster.
Within five minutes, the intensity ramps up.
“No, no, no, no,” Bruce, our defensive coordinator, says as he bangs against the podium.
“No.”
Bruce is playing back last year’s Washington game on the projector, punctuating each mistake with a “no.”
“Not what’s happening this year,” he says as the film starts over again. “D-line, look at the hole you left open. Craven, you need to pivot better to shut down that seam. And Battle, what the hell was that? You let the quarterback juke you? The fucking quarterback?”
Yeah, not my best moment last year. But that game was when my ankle injury was at its worst. And never mind the fact that Tristan Mason is the most athletic quarterback in the league. The guy runs a 4.3 second 40 yard dash as QB1, which is rare air.
We all stay quiet, knowing that talking will only be poking the bear with Bruce.
“Now, since Washington is our opponent in the first game, we’re going to use them for a test case of what we’re going to do differently this year,” Bruce says.
He next gives a mix of formation tweaks, positional pointers, and motivational words.
The guys actually love Bruce, his direct talk, his passion. I can feel the energy rising in the room as everyone gets fired up.
There’s also a ton of talent on our roster, and we know it. We just need to execute.
As the meeting breaks up, I see a couple of the other linebackers chatting in the hallway. Manny Lachance, our rookie at the position and a top draft pick, and Chad, who, at thirty, is starting his eighth season.
“Hey Landon,” Chad says as I approach. “You ready to run through some walls after that meeting? Bruce was in special form.”
I laugh. “Or at least ready to tackle Mason. Sucked to get called out like that, even if I deserved it.” I turn to Manny. “You ready for camp, Rook?”
Manny seems like a positive addition so far. Eager to learn, low ego, maybe a little nervous but that’s to be expected. With his ridiculous speed in the lineup, we’ll be freed up to maximize our positioning while we chase down quarterbacks and shut down running plays. It’s gonna be fun.
“Think so,” Manny responds. “My mom packed my bags, so I don’t even know what’s in them.”
Chad and I look at each other, chuckling. Remembering what it’s like being twenty and going to our first camp.
“You’ll be alright,” Chad says. “We’ll be at a hotel, so it’s not exactly hard to get anything you forget.”
I study Chad, once again stepping in to reassure a rookie, like he did for me three years ago.
The shitty thing is that he’s on the bubble of getting cut, because we drafted Manny.
Chad’s always been a middle of the road player, a locker room guy, steady.
But thirty-year-old legs aren’t twenty-year-old legs.
He’s going to have to prove himself again at camp.
That’s pro football for you. Chad knows it too, and good guy that he is, it doesn’t change how he treats people.
I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket and check who's calling me.
It’s Mom. Huh.
“Hey, I need to take this call,” I say to the guys, and step into an empty office off the hallway.
By the time I get situated, her call has gone to voicemail. Looking at my phone, I see my dad has texted too.
DAD: Connor got bad news from the national team. Can you give him a call?
Shit.
A notification of my mom’s voice message pops up, along with a transcription.
“Hey Landon, sorry to bug you with this, but Connor got word that they aren’t going to keep him on the roster for the U19 team, at least for now. He’s really upset, and I know you will do a better job at reassuring him than your father or I could. Can you try to connect with him?”
Typical of our parents that it’s my “job” to help Connor through this, not theirs.
Connor’s going to be wrecked by being dropped. I go straight to calling him. I’ll respond to Mom and Dad later.
When he picks up, a pained “Hey” comes out.
“Hey Con, I heard. I’m sorry, kid.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t even know what to say. I mean, I knew we had a lot of awesome center mids my year, but I thought I’d at least be able to come off the bench.”
Center midfielder is Connor’s position, and arguably the most demanding one in soccer because you must have all-around skills, offensive and defensive. A typical Battle decision to pick the most challenging role.
“That’s tough. Did they give you any feedback?”
Connor sighs. “Only that it’s still possible they’ll need me down the road. I don’t know. Now that I’m going to be at Princeton, I think I might just focus on the college team.”
“Yeah, that’s great,” I said. “Princeton’s team is one of the best in the country.”
“It just sucks. You and Rawls are out here, making it at the highest levels in football, and I’m getting cut,” he says. “It feels like I failed the Battle name.”
Nah, let me put a stop to that. “Oh hell no, Connor. Don’t go there. First of all, you’re trying to make a much smaller roster for a single national team. Completely different. Football, we have dozens of teams even at the pro level, with 53 man rosters.”
He grunts through the phone in acknowledgement.
“Second of all, you’re going to an Ivy League school, no doubt you will crush your classes, get a degree, and play D1 soccer. You’re a role model, kid. So no more talk like that.”
“Okay,” he says, a little more even-toned. “I just… I just want to play professionally in Europe after school, you know? I don’t know if I’m good enough.”
My mind starts whirling with an idea.
“You absolutely should still fight for that dream, Connor. But I’ve got a thought. Take a minute to process everything. After that, would you be open to talking to a buddy of mine who played college soccer?”
“Sure, yeah,” Connor responds, a little uncertainty in his voice since I’m being deliberately vague.
“K, kid. Good.”
“Thanks, Landon.”
Promising to text more when I get out of practice, we hang up and I leave the office, off to find the guy who just might be the best person to talk to Connor.
So, my favorite part of today?
That involves my girl, begging me to take care of her.
“Landon, pleaseeeee,” Rori says as I edge her again with my stubble between her thighs.
“Oh, this is torture,” she pants out as I give her a little lick then pull back my head.
Yeah, for me too, baby.
But I love it.
Later, once we finally collapse for the night, I hold her extra tight.
Only two more nights until training camp, and then it will be another chunk of time away from each other.
And there’s nothing to do about it, except make every moment count while I can.