And I really like that he’s taken an interest in me.
While Kyle’s car is small, he’s leaning toward me, listening to everything I have to say. We haven’t even left the parking lot yet, and his hand has moved closer and every few seconds I can feel his finger brush against my knuckles.
“I’m kicking myself for not throwing the ball at you until today.”
I want to roast him for admitting that he was trying to hit me, but I let it go. “Today was your only opportunity. I was on an assignment. This was my first Bears game.”
“And we lost.”
I shrug and keep my eyes on him as he inches us forward.
“What are you in the mood for?” he asks as he brings his car to a stop to let traffic go by, turning his head left, then right and when he looks at me, he winks.
“Someplace quiet, where we can talk.”
Kyle smiles before pulling out onto the road. I barely recognize the sound of a truck horn blaring and tires screeching before I look out my window and see the word MAC heading straight toward me. As the grill of the truck smashes into my side of the car, I raise my hand to protect my face from the flying glass and I wonder if this was what my father did all those years ago when he met the eighteen-wheeler that took his life.
2
Noah
The crowd is deafening as I take the field. I don’t need t
o look up at the scoreboard to know that there is under two minutes left and we’re down by seven. Of course, if our last touchdown hadn’t been called back for a bullshit call, we’d be tied, although, my mindset wouldn’t be much different. This is our hurry-up offense that we practice the most. Some teams are better at it then we are, but we’re young and still building the expansion team. Truth be told, no one expects us to win, and when we do, the sports analyst have a field day, jumping on the temporary bandwagon of the Portland Pioneers.
I’m used to the haters and have had to live with them badmouthing my dad for the past fifteen years. Being Liam Page’s son hasn’t been easy. Despite what critics say, everything that I have done, every achievement has been earned. My father was adamant that I make my own path, determine my own future. He didn’t want me doing something I didn’t want to do.
There was a time when I thought baseball was going to be my calling. My coach and somewhat step-dad, Nick, was convinced as well. After we won three consecutive state titles behind my pitching, the colleges were ready for me to commit to them and Major League teams were ready for me to sign my life away on the dotted line.
When I sat my parents down, which included Nick and Aubrey, I told them that I wanted to play football even though our high school team never made it past the first round of playoffs and the colleges weren’t scouting me. I had a few small offers, but nothing that stood out. My parents supported my decision and were the ones to drive me to Notre Dame weeks before school started so I could walk on. It was the best decision I had ever made because within six games I was the starting quarterback and once the season was over I was offered a full-ride in exchange for three years of playing football with them.
After my junior year, I was encouraged by money hungry agents to enter the draft. My coach knew this was happening but never said anything. He didn’t have to. I could see everything he was feeling in his expression. He was sad and worried that his star quarterback was ditching out a year early. It’s not unheard of for an athlete to leave school early, but that wasn’t for me. I made a commitment to the school that took a chance on me and really wanted to lead them to a bowl game. I did, but we didn’t win. Still, it was one of the best decisions of my life.
And now here I am in my fourth year in the National Football League and the starting quarterback of a team that just wants to win. We have the tools in the players that we have. Our coach, Bud Walter, is one of the best but isn’t here for the long haul. He’s had a storied career and will be retiring soon, but until then he demands one hundred percent from us each and every time, and we do everything that we can to give it to him.
I stand behind the center Alex Moore. He’s one of my best friends, not because he’s meant to try and protect my ass from getting tackled or sacked each play, but because he’s a stand-up guy who doesn’t give a shit that my father is famous. I yell out my cadence and tap Alex on his ass in the event that he can’t hear me. Once the pigskin touches my hands, I’m backpedaling with my arm cocked and ready to fire. My targets are the wide receiver, Julius Cunningham, who has been in the league for five years or Chase Montgomery the tight end. Chase is one of the best in the league and asked for a trade once the expansion team was announced. He’s from Portland and wanted to be at home so his ailing mother could come to his games.
A monster of a tackle comes rushing toward me as I release the ball. I’m hit and thrown to the ground before I can see if it lands in Chase’s hands. By the roar of the crowd, it does and I scramble to stand so I can get back to the line of scrimmage only to find Chase dancing in the end zone.
Coach yells that we go for two and I’m contemplating his thought process as I hurry toward my offensive line. Going for two means our opponent has to score. Tying the game means we can go a few more minutes. I have never second-guessed Bud, and I shouldn’t be trying to now. I call out the play and resume my spot behind Alex. Once again my cadence is repeated and the ball is put into play.
The field before me is clear and I fire a rocket of a pass to Julius who catches it flawlessly in the end zone. My arms go up as I run toward him to celebrate, which is cut short because now we have to go back on defense.
“Westbury,” Bud yells my name as I reach the sideline.
“Yeah, Coach?”
“Next time run more time off the clock.”
I nod and walk toward the bench and sit down. He’s right. I should’ve run some small routes instead of opening it up for the deep pass. Now we have to hold them on defense. I have faith in our cornerback, Cameron Simmons, but he can’t cover everyone.
Behind me, I can hear my grandmother Bianca yelling. Usually my it’s my dad and mom, along with my little sister, but my mom, along with her friends are in the Bahamas for the week, taking a much-needed vacation. It’s a toss-up between my grandma and my mom being the team’s biggest fans. Both of them insist that they sit behind the bench while my dad prefers to sit in the luxury suite. I get where he’s coming from. He gets tired of the security always around him. He wants to enjoy the game and not be hounded by fans all the time.
But my mom wants to be where the action is, and since they’re ridiculously in love, my father does whatever she wants. In turn, he tries to please my grandmother as well. They had a rocky relationship right up until my sister was born, but now they’re close and she’s making up for lost time.
My sister, Betty Paige, sits in between my dad and grandma with her nose tucked into a book. She has no desire to be a football fan, but my parents are adamant that she comes each weekend to support me.
Sometimes Nick and Aubrey, along with their two kids Mack and Amelie make the trip to Portland. It’s usually when the high school football team has a bye weekend. He’s still coaching and often asks my dad to help, especially with Mack playing now too. Nick and my dad are friendly, but will never be best friends. He saves that title for Harrison James and Jimmy Davis, his two band mates, both of whom are living in Los Angeles, far away from Beaumont.