though, a guy who’s been setting out the drinks probably ever since the Firebirds moved to Chevali, he gives me a grin and a thumbs-up. Three cheerleaders, pretty weasels, come over and hug me on their way out. When I see Charm’s expression as they run right past him, that settles me down a little. Just a little. It’s game time. Nothing’s gonna settle me down ’til I run out onto the field.
I’m reminded of the Aventira game when we line up opposite Millenport for the first time, even though their uniforms are turquoise blue and white rather than navy blue and silver. There’s no lippy stallion to taunt me, this time. A black bear and their star boar line up on my side, with another boar on the outside. They don’t say a word, but the gleam of their eyes in the shadow of their helmets stays fixed on me. I have no doubt what’s on their mind.
The first series, they run the ball to my side, and the bear sidesteps Fisher to slam into my side, knocking me to the turf. “Keep your fucking mouth shut, pussy,” he growls as he gets up.
“ Nice to meet you, too.” I stand up and shake it off. He left his assignment to come tackle me, meaning Fisher was able to drop the runner for a loss. The bear still high-fives his friends as they get back into their set. “Asshole,” I mumble next to Gerrard.
“ Don’t worry about him,” Gerrard says. “If they spend the whole game focusing on you, they’re not gonna get anywhere. You can take it.”
“ Course I can.” I stand up and glare back at them. “They’re gonna try running it again.”
“ That’s my read too.” He nods. “Cover the runner.”
This time, I know the bear’s coming for me, so I keep an eye on him. But it’s the boar who dives through the line, trying to take me out. He’s not fast enough. I shoot past him, heading for the hole he left in the line. Gerrard’s there a half-step ahead of me. We drop the runner for another loss.
The next down, they have to throw. We drop back into coverage and break up the pass.
That sequence of events repeats itself over and over in the first half. Fisher never lets the bear get a head of steam up again, but on several plays the bear gets through when Fisher sees a chance to stop a run. We meet up three more times, though he doesn’t say anything again and neither of us goes down.
At halftime, we’re up 14-0, and Coach gives us a great pep talk. Gerrard grabs me and Carson and we go over some of the things we need to fix up with Steez. “If I’m rushing for a gap,” Gerrard says, “don’t follow me. Cover the slot guys in case they try to dump the ball off.” I just nod, even though on that play I didn’t even know he was going for the gap until I’d already started. None of us talks about me being targeted, except when Steez says, “They keep coming for you, they leave holes elsewhere. Heads not in game. We use this.”
And we do. Their coach must’ve talked to them at halftime, too, because they stop coming after me so directly. I see why the boar’s doing so well; on certain plays, he takes Fisher one-on-one and blocks him perfectly, frustrating Fisher so much that his tail’s lashing when he lines up. They only break off two good runs the whole third quarter, and by the fourth, when we’re up 21-0, they start throwing the ball a lot more. I bump their receiver, disrupt their patterns, and swat the ball down once. In fact, the fourth quarter is dull, dull, dull, right up until it gets horribly interesting.
It’s a blown play, supposed to be a run to the strong side, but our guys collapse the line on that side and the running back scrambles toward us, cocking his arm like he’s going to throw. I see this and drop back, looking for the slot guys behind me while Fisher and Brick take care of the bear and boars. I don’t see, until we watch it again on film, that Gerrard drops back too, that we’re both covering one guy, while Brick takes on their star boar all by
I’m reminded of the Aventira game when we line up opposite Millenport for the first time, even though their uniforms are turquoise blue and white rather than navy blue and silver. There’s no lippy stallion to taunt me, this time. A black bear and their star boar line up on my side, with another boar on the outside. They don’t say a word, but the gleam of their eyes in the shadow of their helmets stays fixed on me. I have no doubt what’s on their mind.
The first series, they run the ball to my side, and the bear sidesteps Fisher to slam into my side, knocking me to the turf. “Keep your fucking mouth shut, pussy,” he growls as he gets up.
“ Nice to meet you, too.” I stand up and shake it off. He left his assignment to come tackle me, meaning Fisher was able to drop the runner for a loss. The bear still high-fives his friends as they get back into their set. “Asshole,” I mumble next to Gerrard.
“ Don’t worry about him,” Gerrard says. “If they spend the whole game focusing on you, they’re not gonna get anywhere. You can take it.”
“ Course I can.” I stand up and glare back at them. “They’re gonna try running it again.”
“ That’s my read too.” He nods. “Cover the runner.”
This time, I know the bear’s coming for me, so I keep an eye on him. But it’s the boar who dives through the line, trying to take me out. He’s not fast enough. I shoot past him, heading for the hole he left in the line. Gerrard’s there a half-step ahead of me. We drop the runner for another loss.
The next down, they have to throw. We drop back into coverage and break up the pass.
That sequence of events repeats itself over and over in the first half. Fisher never lets the bear get a head of steam up again, but on several plays the bear gets through when Fisher sees a chance to stop a run. We meet up three more times, though he doesn’t say anything again and neither of us goes down.
At halftime, we’re up 14-0, and Coach gives us a great pep talk. Gerrard grabs me and Carson and we go over some of the things we need to fix up with Steez. “If I’m rushing for a gap,” Gerrard says, “don’t follow me. Cover the slot guys in case they try to dump the ball off.” I just nod, even though on that play I didn’t even know he was going for the gap until I’d already started. None of us talks about me being targeted, except when Steez says, “They keep coming for you, they leave holes elsewhere. Heads not in game. We use this.”
And we do. Their coach must’ve talked to them at halftime, too, because they stop coming after me so directly. I see why the boar’s doing so well; on certain plays, he takes Fisher one-on-one and blocks him perfectly, frustrating Fisher so much that his tail’s lashing when he lines up. They only break off two good runs the whole third quarter, and by the fourth, when we’re up 21-0, they start throwing the ball a lot more. I bump their receiver, disrupt their patterns, and swat the ball down once. In fact, the fourth quarter is dull, dull, dull, right up until it gets horribly interesting.
It’s a blown play, supposed to be a run to the strong side, but our guys collapse the line on that side and the running back scrambles toward us, cocking his arm like he’s going to throw. I see this and drop back, looking for the slot guys behind me while Fisher and Brick take care of the bear and boars. I don’t see, until we watch it again on film, that Gerrard drops back too, that we’re both covering one guy, while Brick takes on their star boar all by
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