Chapter 23
RAWLEY
Iplan to fill today—the day after the one when Avery kissed me—with playbook study.
Yes, apparently I’m going to make the kiss a time marker.
BK: Before Kiss. AK: After Kiss.
I chuckle to myself, corny as that is. Can’t help it. I’m high off the memories of our first kiss, of making that shot, of the promise of more…
Get it together, Battle.
I am thankful for this first AK day to hone in on the Waves’ playbook. I knew this going in, but it’s insanely more complicated than the UT one.
“It’s the size of a dictionary,” I complain to Connor as he walks into the kitchen area and raises a brow at the sight of me studying. “So much to fucking remember.”
I trust in my ability to understand the concepts, even learn the terminology and play calls.
But to remember all of this information on the fly and apply it in practice—it’s intimidating. I need to get this shit down as preseason advances, and doubts are creeping in.
A split second of hesitation when the ball is snapped could cost us a play and me a starting spot, not to mention give the talking heads new excuses to bash me.
They’ve started us rookies slowly, but now I need to show I got this. However, I’m not sure I do.
“You know what worked for you in the past with your playbooks, right?” Connor asks.
“Yeah, I like to visualize everything while repeating the words.”
“Until the routes you run are ingrained, yeah?” he says. “So you build your confidence that you’re rock-solid on the plays.”
“Yup.”
“Do it the same way, only on a bigger scale. I mean, if it takes longer, that makes sense because it’s more plays, more details. But you’ll get there.”
I blow out my breath, trying to loosen my nerves. Connor’s right. And not for the first time, I’m fucking grateful for my little brother.
I have my eyes closed as I work through a play in my head when my big brother comes in. Grover trails behind him, dragging his leash.
“Look at you,” Landon says when he sees me. “Love to see that dedication, Rawls.”
“Thanks, Landon. I’m trying.”
He cocks his head at that. “Can’t just try, Rawls. You got to do.”
“Do or do not. There is no try,” Connor says in a mock Yoda voice, smirking at Landon.
“I’m serious,” Landon replies, now sounding earnest.
Fuck, he can be such a dad.
“I got this. I have my own method. It’s worked before, I just need to magnify it to match all this—” I gesture to the playbook.
“Okay, I can make flashcards or something,” he offers. “Like when you were young.”
Never mind that the flashcard method wasn’t what helped me.
Still, I know he’s coming from a good place. I just need him to lay off.
“I’m going to take care of it,” I say more definitively.
He nods and lets it go. While he pads into the kitchen, Connor links eyes with me and dips his head. A silent affirmation that I handled that right.
Regardless of our brotherly dynamic, though, I do need to get my act together on this front. So I spend most of the day out in the yard, visualizing, acting out, and reading out the plays. Trying to make them stick.
A welcome interruption comes in the late afternoon when Avery texts me.
AVERY: How’s your day?
RAWLEY: All right. Been working on getting the plays down.
AVERY: That’s good.
RAWLEY: Boring AF but 100% necessary.
AVERY: For sure.
RAWLEY: How about you?
AVERY: Been uneventful. I’m just killing time at the hotel. We leave for the arena in an hour.
AVERY: So my sister Remy just sent me the most hilarious thing.
AVERY: [link to ]
AVERY: It might be the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen
I click on it and it’s a shirt—marketed as an ‘Avley’ shirt—that’s half the Waves’ colors and logo, and half the Surge’s. Only, the way the logos and words are cut off is awkward and weird.
RAWLEY: Yeah, that’s not a good look.
AVERY: Remy is threatening to wear it next time she sees me.
RAWLEY: Nice
A moment later, she lets me know a coach is at her door, but wishes me luck for day one of the next OTA.
And I set an alarm in my phone so I don’t miss her Phoenix game tonight.
When we start the OTA on the next day, my hard work at learning the playbook is tested from the jump.
The coaches throw us into 11-on-11 drills, focusing on installing the formations and getting everyone on the same page.
They have me join the starters. I do okay, I think—but not great.
Of the first eight plays, I remember three of them perfectly, earning a “great job, Battle,” from our offensive coordinator, Marshall. Another two, I’m a step slow before my memory kicks in, but I adjust to the right position as quickly as my brain clicks on.
The other three—yeah, I’m lost on those.
Fuck. I feel defeated when the coaches call for lunch.
“You’re doing fine, Rawley,” Johnson says quietly to me as we all walk inside. “Seriously.”
“Really?” I ask, just as faintly.
“Yeah, no one expects rookies to know this stuff straight away. At least coaches and players who understand how hard it is.”
He wears a sincere expression when I glance at him, and he’s not a bullshitter so I take him at his word.
“Thank you.”
“You got this.” He taps me on the shoulder and then whispers, “And we can go over everything again on the field at my house next week, if you want.”
That calms my nerves more than anything.
The thought of being able to walk through all the plays on a regulation field, just with Johnson, at a calm pace? It’s exactly how my mind retains stuff best.
Feeling renewed confidence from that conversation, I walk over to sit with Chance and Ty for lunch.
They practiced with different groups of guys on the third and fourth teams. It turns out they struggled too with all the plays, and seem jokey about it.
The mood lifts more when Bailey stops by on the way to his seat. “I like the energy I’m seeing out there. I got a view firsthand of Rawley here, looking like he’s been at this already for weeks, and I peeked over at you two”—he glances at Chance and Ty—“during breaks too.”
They look excited that he acknowledged them.
“You guys keep fighting. It can take a minute for the pieces to fall in place your first year, but they will.”
And when he walks off, Ty says to me, “It sounds like you’re doing awesome, Rawley.”
I guess it did, coming from Bailey’s mouth.
See, don’t jump to conclusions.
Unfortunately, it seems like I have a lot of unlearning to do on that front.
The next morning, I’m in the car with Landon driving to day two of our OTA when I get a call from Aiden.
“You ready for some good news?” he says without ceremony after I greet him.
“If it’s good news, I’m putting you on speaker so Landon can hear. He’s driving us to the Waves’ facility.” I definitely want my brother to partake in any positive updates.
After I switch to speaker mode, Aiden’s voice reverberates through the car. “Yeah, Landon will appreciate this too.”
“I like the sound of that,” my brother says.
“So, Aspire have come back to the table. They’ve reconsidered things, and want you on their roster. We all know why, with your popularity explosion.” His tone is dry, but it’s clear he’s pleased with the news.
“That’s great,” I respond.
“It gets better. Triumph has entered the conversation.” Triumph is a competing clothing brand and has deals with Landon, Johnson, and Rori.
“Obviously you’d have to pick a direction between the two, but their owner Nick called me and made a pitch.
He said where your profile has landed these days, they want you for their next campaign. ”
“As they should,” Landon observes. “They’re the Battle family brand at this point.”
“He’s offered a deal that’s comparable to Landon’s initial one. It’s a fair proposal, but I think I can play off the Aspire conversation to drive the numbers up.”
“Awesome,” I reply as Landon nods at me.
“Let’s fucking go,” my brother concurs.
“If you’ve had a solid experience with Triumph, I’d probably want to work with them,” I add.
“Yeah, Nick’s a good guy, as far as CEOs go,” Landon says to me.
“Let’s see how things play out,” Aiden says. “If I can squeeze another couple of million out of them for the life of the contract, I will. Probably looking at a four-year deal.”
Thank god. A huge smile spreads across my face.
“Do your thing,” Landon encourages.
“More to come, but yeah, I’ll keep you posted. There is one thing Jim just shared though.”
Shit. This’ll be media related.
Aiden continues, “Athlete Buzz is running another segment on you this week. The last one bashing you for that club appearance churned so much traffic for them, so of course they don’t want to lose a chance at repeating it.”
“What could they even say about him at this point?” Landon asks.
“Nothing that’s real. Jim says it’s just a ‘stir the pot’ session. They know your name will drive clicks when they snip it for their other social sites.”
Landon starts to speak, but I beat him to it. “Aiden, when is this going to stop? Enough is enough already.”
“The good news is the gossip magazine and social media pieces about you and Avery are overwhelmingly positive, and most of the sports media will report straightforwardly once there’s actual football for them to observe.”
The OTAs aren’t open to the press, but much of training camp and preseason games will be. So I just need to be able to show I’m ready to play NFL football then to finally quiet the remaining noise. Six weeks to go until training camp starts.
“All right, thanks.” I must sound a little down, because when Aiden hangs up, Landon tries to reassure me.
“You’re in good hands.”
“It’s just exhausting.”
“I know, Rawls, I know.”