Chapter 40
RAWLEY
When Landon and I arrive at the Waves’ facility for our first day of training camp, the buzz of my adrenaline helps push away the lingering sadness from my situation with Avery.
One of the hardest parts of the last few days has been cutting off contact. I’m so used to talking to her every day. But it’s not doing me a lick of good to dwell.
Even though she says she wants to be friends, I’m not putting myself out there first. And I’m not sure I’m ready for that anyway. She doesn’t seem to be either from her silence, so I can just keep punting the decision.
“Grab your stuff,” Landon says as he stops the engine in the parking lot.
Stop thinking about her. The hurt is going to be there, but you have to ignore it for a while.
I’m in the fucking NFL. This is it. Training camp marks the true beginning.
When we come out on the other side, most of the cuts to get down to the fifty-three-man roster will be made, and I should be confirmed again as a starter.
“So fucking ready for this,” Landon says, his voice matching my energy.
“Your fourth one,” I respond. “It’s got to get old being locked up for three weeks with everyone?”
He chuckles. “Talk to me in a few days and I might answer differently. Definitely going to start missing Rori and Grover. Right now, I’m hyped for this season.”
Clasping me on the shoulder, he switches to big brother mode. “Stay focused, Rawls, and the dream you’ve been working for the last ten years is going to happen.”
No pressure, bro.
Landon’s words push a little shiver through my spine, a reminder of all the bumps and bruises—literal and figurative—I have experienced to be here, today.
Determination surges through me.
I won’t let it be in vain. I deserve this opportunity. And I’ve put in the time.
We break the moment as a group of guys walk past the car, being noisy.
“Let’s go,” Landon says.
Once inside, we head to our separate destinations. My first stop—the wide receiver room.
Each position has its own room where everyone can gather to talk strategy, go over plays, and bond.
When I walk in, our wide receiver coach Myron Allen is there, as are Ty and Chance. Last year’s starters, including Bailey, aren’t here yet.
“All three rookies,” Coach Allen says. “Perfect. While we wait for the full group, let me go over the plan for the next couple of days, since it’s your first camp.”
After he walks through the schedule, he turns to Ty. “I’m not going to pull punches with you. We’re going to need something special this week.”
Ty’s face snaps into a serious expression. “Yes sir.”
All of a sudden, training camp became even more real.
I might lose a friend.
I swallow and look at Ty. “You got this, man.”
“Thanks, Battle.”
The first day is filled with meetings and basic physical tests, so Ty’s safe for now. The real work starts on day two.
Johnson and I have been meeting up to practice a few times a week since we returned from Oregon, so once we start drills on the field the second day, it feels natural.
His play calls, familiar. My recall of the routes, innate.
It’s fucking awesome to be confident and not doubtful anymore.
And now the coaches see it too.
We still aren’t wearing full pads, and the drills aren’t representative of real play yet. But I come off the field proud that I don’t miss a single catch thrown my way.
“Great job, Rawley,” Coach Houston says as I walk by him.
After lunch, Coach Allen pulls me aside. “Excellent execution today. Keep on it.”
My chest swells. “Thanks.”
“Coach Houston wants me to get you more reps, so while the starters are done for a couple hours, I’m going to have you outside with Tony and the second team.” Tony is Johnson’s backup quarterback.
“Sure, sounds great.”
I won’t say I’m nervous, but it’ll be a little different without Johnson. We’ve developed a comfort level with each other.
Man up, Rawls. It’s a good test of everything you’ve worked on.
I try to keep that mindset as I walk on the field.
“Hey, Battle,” Tony says as I come toward him. “Excited to see what we can do together.”
“Me too.”
He looks around before talking to his center. “Do we have everyone?”
“Just waiting for the running back.”
And fuck if none other than Nate jogs out to join us.
He’s good enough to practice with the second team? Crap, he may make the final squad, be a teammate.
“Nate the Great reporting in, sorry about that.”
Tony looks unimpressed.
“Okay, let’s get on the field. The defensive guys are already out there.”
Once we’re in position, Tony calls the play, and it’s one I remember without any trouble.
But when I run the route, Tony doesn’t anticipate my speed accurately, and the ball is located too far behind me to catch. It ends up bouncing on the ground toward the sidelines.
“Shit, my bad, Battle,” Tony says with a nod as we get into the next huddle. “Got to get used to how quick you are.”
We mill about for a few seconds while Tony gets the next play call. And then an unwelcome voice comes.
“You gonna be a bust without your family carrying you, Battle?” Nate whispers to me.
I’m too shocked to react with a good retort. Somehow this guy has gone from wanting to ride my jock to get into clubs to blatantly insulting me?
This is some aggressive shit to pull with a teammate.
Knowing that a fight on the field isn’t going to do me any good, I shake my head and walk away.
The next two downs we go with running plays, and I get to see Nate firsthand.
The annoying POS is really talented, juking his way around the defense effectively. Granted, no tackling is allowed.
In a real game, I would be blocking for him. So it really sucks to feel less than enthusiastic about his success.
Another two plays later and Tony tells me I’m his first option on the next one.
This time it goes better. Once I’m off the line of scrimmage, I cut up through the middle roughly twenty yards and turn before Tony puts the ball right in the center of my chest.
It’s a beauty.
“There we go,” Tony says to me, before going to the sideline to quickly chat with Marshall about the next sequence.
I shoot Nate my best fuck you look, and then go back to the larger group.
The rest of my time with the second team is solid, but not perfect. There’s a couple of times that Tony and I are out of sync, with me dropping one ball and completely out of position for the other.
Still, thanks to my time with Johnson, I had the play calls down, and I feel confident that we just need to play together more to find our rhythm.
Two months ago, my insecurities might’ve reared up, but I know this dynamic is not about me.
Not that Nate doesn’t try to poke some out of me again.
“I don’t know, Battle, that wasn’t looking Heisman-worthy to me,” he says faintly while we run back into the locker room.
Fuck that guy.
I switch back to the first team when they take the field, ending the day on a high note with some clean catches.
“You settled into our home for the next three weeks?” Bailey asks our crew in the wide receiver room.
Chance and Ty nod.
“A hotel room is better than our dorms, so it’s ‘home sweet home,’” Chance jokes.
It turns out he’s doing solid on the third team, according to what he downloaded to me at lunch. I can see him relax over the day as he feels more comfortable with belonging here.
Ty, not so much. Being on the bubble, I can tell he’s minding his behavior.
It’s shitty to watch even with a new friend, but that’s football for you.
When we get back to our hotel, I’m eager to chill in my room for a minute. But within twenty minutes, Chance shows up at the door with Ty.
We grab a hasty dinner downstairs, and then decide to watch some baseball in Chance’s room.
“I’m exhausted after today,” I say, zoning out as we watch the Marlins. “So good to just veg.”
Unfortunately, when I leave his room at ten, it legit takes only fifteen minutes for the hurt to resurface. The sadness about her, us.
Which leads to me wondering: What is Avery doing right now?
Maybe I should have stayed with the guys longer.
Shit, shut this line of thinking down, Battle.
BUZZ.
I grab my phone off the desk in my room and...
AVERY: Hi
What the hell? Did she read my mind?
AVERY: I had a commercial shoot with Rori yesterday and just wanted to say hi
Okay, guess there’s no more punting on the friendship issue.
Fuck. I can’t ignore her. Then I’ll just obsess over that.
RAWLEY: Awesome game last night. I didn’t watch, but I saw the stats.
She responds quickly.
AVERY: Thanks! It felt good.
AVERY: Training camp started yesterday?
Huh, so she really does want to talk.
My heart does a dangerous leap, but on the positive side, my gut settles. The sick, twisting feeling I’ve been experiencing at the thought of not talking to her again dissipates.
RAWLEY: Yeah. Three weeks stuck with a hundred guys. Yay
AVERY: C’mon, your first NFL training camp. You’ll probably be soaking up every minute.
RAWLEY: Yah.
The message sits, neither of us responding.
Maybe that’s for the best.
But interesting.
I guess she meant what she said about being friends. Can I handle that though? It feels awfully close to what I got stuck in with Stef.
I fall asleep much later after my head spins around in circles trying to make sense of everything.