Jack went to the practice field early, like always. He didn’t know what to do, since there was no point visualizing plays he wouldn’t be running.
So he ran instead. Up and down the field. He knew he should conserve energy for practice, especially if he was going to be thrown into a new position right away. He didn’t care. He was pissed, frustrated. The only way to deal with it was to take it out on the grass.
As the other players arrived, he saw a thin silver lining. If he wasn’t the quarterback, he wouldn’t have to play the game. He wouldn’t have to be a leader. He wouldn’t have to talk to anyone. He could just focus on doing his job. With a brand-new job, it would take a lot of focus.
And he had no plans to give up on his dream, asleep or not. If he couldn’t get to the NFL as a quarterback, he’d get there as a receiver. He had a whole year to figure it out. He’d heard of other guys doing that. Quarterbacks in college. Another position in the NFL. At least he had a head start on making the adjustment.
He was still upset. The feeling lingered, intensifying with each tiny embarrassment. Starting with the other quarterbacks wondering why he didn’t join them for individual drills.
Jack ignored the murmurs that spread through the team. The presumed starting quarterback, no longer a quarterback at all. The true freshman, taking over. He was hoping some of them would be upset about it. He didn’t get the impression anyone disagreed. After all, they’d been at spring practice, too. They’d seen what Lonnie Gordon could do.
Jack admitted he’d been in denial. That he had sold the new guy short. That he should have realized no one could hold him back, not with that level of raw talent. It was obvious to anyone who knew anything about football.
The only good news, if there was any, came from the fact that Jack joined the starting lineup right away. He couldn’t help but wonder whether Connors was setting him up to fail.
The situation kept a foul look on Jack’s face, even as team drills began. He walked toward the huddle and glared at Connors, who was parked behind the offensive players. The evil eye migrated to Lonnie.
“Hey, man,” Lonnie said. “I’m sorry.”
Jack turned his face away. “Don’t be.”
“I know it’s not my fault.”
Jack spun back to face him. “It is your fault. I just don’t want your fucking apology.”
The other players were getting uneasy. Lonnie ignored it.
“Good,” he said, “because I’m not apologizing.”
“You had to be a showoff.”
“I wasn’t showing off.”
Jack put his fingers over the bars on his face mask. “Left-handed passes. Sandlot ball. You let the plays fall apart, and then you do your own thing.”
The rest of the huddle remained silent.
“My thing is to make something happen,” Lonnie said.
Jack shook his head. “You definitely made something happen.”
Lonnie moved toward Jack and whispered. “I need you. You know these other guys can’t get open.”
“I guess we’ll find out if I can. Not that you’ll throw it to me.”
“Do you know the plays?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Can you run the routes?”
“I know the plays. The concepts. Everything. I could run those routes with my eyes closed.”
“Well,” Lonnie said, “if you don’t want to see me play sandlot ball, get open.”
Larry Connors blew his whistle. “You boys realize that, in a game, there’s a clock. The clock ticks. Act like it’s ticking.”
Lonnie looked into Jack’s eyes. “Get open.”
Jack glared at him. He didn’t respond. Eyes still locked on Jack’s, Lonnie called a play. “Double Wing Right, 78 X Hook.”
The other players stood there, watching.
Lonnie turned from Jack. “You heard me. Double Wing Right. 78 X Hook.”
They continued to stand there. Jack leaned toward Lonnie. “It would help to have a snap count,” Jack said. “You know, the thing that starts the play?”
“Oh,” Lonnie said. “On two.”
The players broke the huddle. Lonnie put his hand on Jack’s shoulder pads. “I mean what I said. If you’re open, you’ll get the ball.”
“We’ll see,” Jack said.
“It’s my call,” Lonnie said. “I’m the quarterback now.”
“I just wish you were still the quarterback of the future.”