Chapter 19
Fin
With my helmet in hand, I jogged out of the football center to the practice field.
The afternoon sun had warmed the earlier crisp autumn air.
Around the field, trees were giving up their green in favor of yellows and oranges.
Coopers’ colors. The leaves were either cheering for our team or honoring Reid Hubbard.
My heart squeezed in my chest at the unexpected sight of the woman on the sideline.
Vee had her trusty notebook against her breasts and was talking with Coach Pratt.
The long brown hair with golden highlights that had been down this morning was now secured near the nape of her neck.
With her back turned toward the end zone, she didn’t see me.
Moments like these when I could watch Vee without her knowledge invigorated me.
That made me sound like a voyeur. I didn’t see it that way.
No, I thought of my fascination as more of that of an art aficionado.
Vee was a masterpiece, the pi?ce de résistance of the female variety.
I’d spent too many years trying to get over her.
Her worth was that of a priceless treasure.
I happened to be someone who appreciated viewing the treasure that she was in her truest form.
Drew said something that made Vee turn. Even with her sunglasses, I could feel her focus on me as a smile curled her lips. There wasn’t a wave or even a nod, yet I knew she’d just seen me.
She turned back to Drew.
Of course, the coaches saw the social media.
It was viral. Anyone with any social media account had probably seen it.
When Tilson called me to his office, I was met by the entire coaching staff.
Something Vee said to me during our argument came back.
She said she took me for someone who took personal accountability.
In that moment, she was correct that I was blaming her for what happened long ago.
Walking in Tilson’s office, I was the man she thought I should be.
I told them the truth. Vee and I had a history, and I actively pursued her once I was signed onto the Coopers.
It felt good to come clean.
Tilson informed me that he couldn’t find a breach of contract. I didn’t tell him Jackson, my agent, had already scoured the contract. I simply said thank you.
Our coaches spent yesterday dissecting the Raiders’ playbook and going over films from their last five games.
The Raiders had a record of 4 and 1. Their only loss went to the Seahawks in a nail-biting 9–6 game that ended with a Seahawks’ field goal.
The Raiders’ defense had only given up twenty-two points all season, and average of 4.
4 a game. They were one of the top-rated defenses in the NFL.
That meant that our offense needed to overcome their defense.
Whistles sounded around the practice field. The play calling began.
Draw play.
Play action.
Screen play.
Quarterback draw.
The Coopers’ practice defense squad was on the field simulating our future opponents. They didn’t know our play calls and we didn’t know theirs. It was the best way to replicate a true defense.
I lined up under center with my receivers in split-back formation. The defense moved from the 4–4 defense into 5–2. The play I was told to call wouldn’t work; their loaded defense was designed to stop the run and left the backfield vulnerable to a pass.
I called an audible, letting the offense know that we had an RPO. “Gun king trips right tear 52 sway all go special X-shallow cross H-wide. Kill. Kill.” I danced back five yards as my running backs took off, Dijon going post and Treshawn going corner.
The offensive line was holding the linemen and giving me time to read my reps.
Using man coverage, the defensive corners and safeties had both running backs covered. Ramel Patel, our wide receiver, was open. My arm went back and then forward as I was hit from the blind side.
My ass was on the ground; the ball was out. The defense recovered it.
Turnover.
“Fuck.”
“Hey, Fin,” Pickett, the defensive end who sent me flying, said as he offered me his hand.
Taking it, I stood. “You’re not going to be on the practice squad for long if you keep knocking the shit out of me. Brown will make you active.”
Pickett scoffed. “I’m learning your tells.”
“Fuck that. I don’t have tells.”
“You do, man.” He winked and jogged away.
“Graham,” Pratt yelled. “Do it again. And Young, don’t let the defense slip through.”
The afternoon progressed. While I only had one interception and the one turnover, I was knocked on my ass plenty of times. Tonight, I’d be the one who needed the salt bath.
Each time I checked the sidelines, Vee was watching and taking notes. As I sat on the bench, my eyes went between watching her and watching Troy Dennison take reps. That was when I noticed Pickett standing farther down the field and made my way over to him. “What are they?”
His lips quirked. “I have an advantage of watching you every day. Other defensive ends don’t have that.”
“Yeah, but they’ve got film. If you’re seeing something, I want to know what you see.”
“You read your reps left to right. Most QBs do. You blink your eyes when you find your target. It’s fast, man, real fast. Then you act like you’re going to throw the opposite direction. You faked right. I know that means you’re throwing left. You had Patel in your sights.”
“Shit.” I exhaled. “You’re fucking with my head.”
“No, Fin. I’m good.”
“Would you be able to see that on film?”
Pickett shrugged. “If I watched the same QB enough.”
“Twelve years in the league and six in college. No one, no coach, no player has told me that. And the thing is you’re right.”
“What you’re doing is working.”
I shook my head. “I need to work on that.” A smile spread across my lips. “Thank you.”
“Sure thing. I’ll knock you on your ass a hundred more times. Maybe I’ll get Coach Brown’s attention.”
“You should already have it.”
“Graham,” Coach Garcia called. “You’re in.”
I reached for my helmet and trotted onto the field. “You look good,” I said to Troy as we passed on the field.
“Feels good to be back out here.”
My smile quirked. “I’m ready for the front-row seat.”
“We know the Raiders’ defense is fucking tough,” Coach Pratt said.
“They’re fast and they’re mean. Graham, your time in the pocket needs to get faster.
Lewis, Patel, and Downing, run those routes and get seconds off your time.
O line, watch the gaps, don’t let the tackles in.
Now, let me see you work on that. We’ll start with play-action in I formation.
” He held up his old-time stopwatch. “I’m timing you. ”
Every muscle in my body ached as I stood under the hot shower spray in the locker room shower.
Coach Pratt and Coach Garcia’s calls were running laps through my brain.
Faster. Faster. Faster. Tomorrow we’d concentrate on third-down situations.
Friday would be red zone and speed. Saturday, in Las Vegas, we would put it all together into a package that would hopefully result in a Sunday victory.
NFL rules stated that teams traveling by air must be in the host city no less than eighteen hours before kickoff.
Tilson announced the team plane was leaving early Saturday morning.
We’d be ahead of the NFL schedule while having time to practice in Vegas and adjust to the time change.
After drying off, I wrapped my towel around my waist and made my way into the locker room.
Many of the players were already gone. Troy was at his locker, not far from mine.
“How did it feel?” I asked.
“Great.”
“You looked good.”
He turned, his eyes focused on my chest. “Jesus, you got beat up out there.”
Smiling, I looked down at the red contusion on my chest. “Just a lead-up for Sunday.”
“No, I was watching. You were moving faster. Ramel, Dijon, JD, were really booking it. You keep that up and the Raiders’ defense won’t stop you.”
I lifted my right arm and rotated my shoulder. “I hope I can get out of bed in the morning.”
Troy laughed. “When do you think the reporters will back off from the gate?”
“Hopefully soon.”
“I was talking to Ms. Maeve. She took off her sunglasses…” His eyes were drilling into mine.
“She was in a car accident last night.”
“No shit. I didn’t say anything, but it bothered me, seeing her with that shiner.”
“Airbags deployed and seat belt…she’s sore but safe.”
“Maybe you two can commiserate together.”
It was my turn to grin. “That’s the plan.”
“Tomorrow,” Troy said as he picked up his bag and walked away.
After I was dressed, I checked my phone. I had one text message from Vee.
“JEN WAS ABLE TO GET ME A RENTAL CAR. I’LL SEE YOU AT HOME.”
The home part of the text made me smile. The rental car, I wasn’t as thrilled about. We’d have something to discuss while soaking in bath salts.