8. Ryder
Ryder
Tonight is team dinner night.
Well, not the whole team, just the defense.
Occasionally, we have a few from other areas of the team show up, like Bryan, our quarterback, but mostly it’s just us and whoever can make it.
Team dinners occur during home week games only, unless there’s really something important we need to talk about during away game weeks.
A lot of players have families, and captains are sensitive to time away from them.
The purpose of these dinners is to strengthen the relationships between all of us, but to talk shop.
We go over opposing offenses to discuss film, patterns, and plays they tend to lean toward.
We talk about the responsibilities of different players for the defensive scheme and how we can improve communication on the field.
There are shout-outs for great plays made and then razzing of others, and there’s talk about life.
It’s around this table over the past couple of months that I’ve learned a lot about my teammates, their families, and their goals.
And yes, it’s a big table.
Since I’ve joined the team, all but one of the team dinners have taken place at this Brazilian steakhouse.
Their private section is not one hundred percent secluded, but it’s enough to keep interested people out of the way.
That one time we weren’t here, Sully convinced everyone to go eat sushi.
While I’m certain the restaurant was thrilled to have us, the portions were too small for the price, and not all of the guys wanted raw fish, so back here we are.
I used to feel bad for the restaurant, as this Brazilian steakhouse is one where you have the disc that is one side red and the other green.
When it’s green, they give you more meat, whether it’s chicken, steak, lamb, or pork, and it’s all carved table side.
When you’re done, you flip the disc to red.
This group can eat a lot of meat, but they love us coming in.
Word has spread around town, and they are constantly booked with reservations.
And when we’re asked, everyone stops to sign autographs and take pictures.
We don’t mind. Personally, I still find it odd and thrilling at the same time that people want my autograph. Me.
Is this a sudden new thing? No, as I started to get closer to the end of my college career, kids started asking who was visiting the school or if we were hosting a camp. I still remember when Alice and I would joke about how one day my signature might be worth something. Youthful dreams.
This leads me to think about Alice.
When I first left Tampa, I thought about her constantly.
How could I not? She was my best friend, really my only friend, and I loved her.
Was I friendly with my high school teammates?
Sure, but my whole world revolved around Alice.
But then, after a few months, I started to think about her a little less, and by the time I left Clemson, four years later, it was only once or twice a day.
And trust me when I say that every time I did, it pissed me off.
I hated thinking about Alice. I hated that so many of my memories and things that I loved were tied to her.
Every holiday, every summer, every trip to the beach, all movies, going to Starbucks, different foods, being in my truck, cheerleaders .
. . everything reminded me of her. I was consumed by her, by the loss of her, that I didn’t date at all.
My teammates didn’t understand, but they wouldn’t.
The loss of her impacted me profoundly, I never wanted to get attached to anyone ever again.
Was I a saint? No. But even then, those interactions were few and far between. Sometimes I wonder if they even happened.
“Hey, Rookie.” I’m grateful for the interruption of my thoughts of her. “Why were you in the hot seat at the barbecue with that cheerleader?”
My stomach twists as half the table turns to look at me. Did thinking about her just manifest this conversation?
God, I hate thinking about her.
When I started with the Tarpons, part of my onboarding was social media management.
They went over what was encouraged to be posted and what was discouraged.
They also provided me with a list of people who are assistants to other players who handle these types of things, so I didn’t have to.
I can see how some of the more tenured players, or those who are busy with families, would use this service, but at the moment, I don’t need it.
I can also see how if you are not on social media regularly, then you would have missed our campaign introduction reel.
It had past pictures and short video clips, along with new ones of us now.
Of course I saw it, my mom saw it, and some of my past teammates saw it.
It’s not a bad reel, but I wanted to go inside my house, lock the door, and never come out.
Reality is, eventually everyone will know about the campaign.
I just don’t want them to. Maybe if it were with someone else, this wouldn’t feel like such a big deal, but to me, with her it does.
I’ve worked really hard over the past couple of years to separate my football, collegiate, and professional career from my personal life.
Having them blend feels more like a car crash instead of an easy merge.
And then there’s the pressure. It hasn’t lessened. If anything, I feel like it’s doubled down.
“Just that. I’m a rookie and so is she. Our questions were about becoming a new Tarpon and the upcoming season.”
“I thought it was a who knows who better thing? They put Bryan and Reid up against each other, as well as Sully and Darius,” Rico chimes in. “Personally, I think I would have been a great person to interview.”
“Yeah, Rico and King Silver. That’s a pair I’d like to see,” Sully calls out, and the whole table laughs.
King Silver is our mascot.
“I do know her. She’s from here too. We were friends in high school.” Friends is such a casual word. Nothing about how I felt about Alice was casual. She was embedded in my soul, and it took a near exorcism to get her out.
“Friends.” Rico smirks. “I bet you were.” He leans back in the chair and nods his head at me like he’s in on a private secret between the two of us.
“We were only friends,” I reiterate. I need everyone to know this. I don’t know why. I just do.
“Well, stay away from her. I don’t care how well you know her. Handbook,” Sully stresses, his gaze locking with mine. Really, he doesn’t need to worry. Alice is the last person on earth I would attempt to cross that line with. Speaking of car crashes, this would be fatal for me.
The subject is dropped after that.
Thank God.
“Tonight, I think we should talk about trick plays we want to work on this season,” Sully announces to the table.
“Why you always calling them trick plays? Trick plays are offense. Bro, we talk about this every year. Defense does blitzes,” Miles declares.
“See, that right there”—Sully points at him—“is why we do trick plays. Other teams are expecting us to do blitzes.” He nods like he’s right and Miles is wrong.
What’s funny is that when it comes to defense, the terms are interchangeable: trick plays, disguises, stunts, exotic coverage, and blitzes.
The table groans.
“What do you have in mind?” Dylan asks, moving the conversation along.
“More sugar and more creeping,” he states as if this should be obvious.
My ears perk up at more sugar because that’s me.
In sugar, we’re sugaring the A-gap, where Dylan or I step right up to the line of scrimmage, hovering over the gaps between the center and the guards.
It forces miscommunication on the offensive side, creates free rushers because now they feel they need to block their gaps, and we hide our true coverage plan.
“Definitely more sugar. Ryder’s got the speed on him to backpedal into the pass coverage for a pick,” Logan, our defensive back, says. He’s looking at me and smiling, and this is where I know I’m going to have to prove myself on the field.
“You mean pick six,” Sully corrects him.
“Hell, yeah.” Logan smirks, while the others pound on the table.
And here’s that extra pressure.