Page 27 of Tight End

11

Brody

Pre-season games were kind of funky. It was all about getting our rhythm and timing back. The kinds of intangibles that you couldn’t figure out in a normal practice. Sometimes we tried crazy plays just to see if they worked. Why not? The game didn’t matter.

Also, the starting players for each position usually only played half the game, and were then replaced by the second and third string so they could get some experience. You didn’t want to wear out your star players in a pointless game.

Dallas and I were as sharp as could be. We were totally in-sync on every route. That is, until the second drive of the game. That’s when I was tackled while going out of bounds and I crashed into the cheerleaders.

Specifically, Taylor Fox.

I didn’t even know it was her until we came face-to-face with each other on the ground. But as soon as she opened those crystal blue eyes, it was like I was back in that bar playing trivia again. Like this girl was staring deep into my soul, and I could feel my soul smiling back.

I quickly got to my feet and helped her up. I was supposed to be jogging back to my team, but I couldn’t stop myself from taking in the sight of her. Crimson hair pulled up in a ponytail. Sharp cheeks, smooth and pale, but turning red from embarrassment. And that body? God damn. The push-up top that the cheerleaders wore made me feel like a chubby boy staring at a piece of strawberry cake. Not to mention the short cheerleading skirt that showed off her impossibly-long legs.

It was damn near painful to tear my eyes away from her, but somehow I managed. That’s when I saw Isabella staring at me. I flashed her a smile and blew her a kiss, which quickly put a smile on her face.

Whew. Close one.

When I rejoined the huddle on the field, Dallas said, “Save the flirting until after the game.”

“What can I say?” I replied. “I’ve got game.”

Dallas and the rest of the offense laughed. Then he called another play. I lined up on the right, behind the line of scrimmage. As Dallas prepared to take the snap, I let my eyes drift over to the sideline where the cheerleaders were. Taylor was in the back, but I caught glimpses of her as the other girls moved around. Her red ponytail swung back and forth as she danced, hips swaying in a way that would make Shakira herself jealous.

This distracted me only a split second, but that was enough for one of the defenders to get the jump on me. He barreled toward the quarterback like a raging bull, and I tried to sidestep to block him but it was too late. He got through, arms swinging downward to knock the ball out of Dallas’s hand. Everyone dove on the loose fumble, but it was a Texans player who came up with the ball.

“My bad,” I told Dallas as we walked back to the sideline. “That fumble is on me.”

“Jackson is sneaky fast,” he replied. “I should have gotten rid of the ball quicker.”

The Texans quickly scored a touchdown on their possession. When we went back out onto the field for the next drive, I found my gaze drifting back over to the cheerleaders.

When Dallas shouted, “HIKE!” and the ball was snapped, I wasn’t late. I sprinted forward with perfect timing, cutting between two defenders and then juking to the right. But when Dallas fired the ball in my direction, it flew just out of reach of my fingertips.

“What are you doing?” Dallas demanded when we huddled up again. “You were supposed to run a slant, not a flat route.”

I winced. “Ah, shit. I got my plays confused.”

Dallas smacked me on the ass with a little more force than normal. “Get your head in the game. I know it’s only pre-season, but now’s the time to shake all the rust off.”

“Yes sir, Aaron Burr,” I replied. “Y’all seen Hamilton on Disney Plus? I don’t like musicals, but that’s my jam.”

“Lin-Manuel Miranda is dope as hell,” Double-D said.

Dallas cleared his throat. “Just because it’s pre-season doesn’t mean we can screw around. Let’s try a screen play to the right side next…”

I played the rest of the first half, and then went back out for the third quarter. But after dropping a pass, and then missing a block on the following play, Coach took me out and put in my backup.

“Don’t sweat it, Carter,” Coach said, clapping his hands.

I wasn’t worried about being pulled in a pre-season game. The starters never played the whole game; Dallas himself was pulled on the next drive. But it left a bad taste in my mouth to leave the game after a few bad plays.

The backup tight end, Andrew Stark, was a young kid we had just drafted out of Nebraska. He was sharp out there, making all of his blocks and always finding a way to get open at the right time. When he came back to the sideline, I cheered loudly and gave him a well-deserved smack on the ass.

“Way to get separation on that last play,” I told him. “But watch out next time. The free safety looked like he was going to try to jump the route for an interception.”

I wasn’t worried about a kid coming in and replacing me. I was one of the best tight ends in football. I made the Pro-Bowl last year. We were a team, and that meant helping each other—even if Stark and I were occasionally in direct competition.