Page 38 of Who’s Playing You (In The Nick of Time #1)

The team always lined up in two lines, to which I ran down the middle of, slapped every single helmet that I could reach and yelled on repeat, “Let’s fucking go !

” They were quick to file in line and jog behind me to the bench.

Our run off the field was reminiscent of the old war tactic where the emperor acted like the tip of the sword, with his soldiers behind him, and that tip would infiltrate the opposition’s line of defense.

I was the tip of our sword.

The edge.

The sharpest point.

The one to cut through everything.

The opposition took the field first and I paced the sideline like a caged animal, glaring at our defense. Before they hiked the ball, every one of my D-line eyed me where I was very visible from the sideline watching them. I don’t even think that they realized that they did it.

It was as if I provided them with a fortifying breath, because when they took off from that first snap, they were fucking explosive!

They sacked the quarterback in about three seconds flat.

The opposing O-line didn’t stand a chance: they folded like a cheap suit.

Our blue and black colors dominated while the opposing silver, white and green littered the turf.

It was comical actually because our guys knocked them down like they were bowling pins.

Normally pre-season games were played by the rookies, or players were being tested to see if they’d make the final roster. The Rage, however, weren’t playing by the normal rules.

Well, neither was I.

And that’s why in our first exhibition game as well as this one, The Rage coaches had every player play in both games, because everyone was being put to the test. Everyone was replaceable and dispensable. Except me.

That was another shock to the roster, to realize that even the vets weren’t safe. And that we had a whole-team shakeup happening. Might I have had something to do with it? You can bet your ass I did. I was done with the losing mentality of this team, and I’d been nothing but vocal about it.

To say that there was a fire lit under the asses of everyone on the team was certainly an understatement. First they heard me reaming out various teammates, and then management and the coaches started riding them too. It was glorious.

The start of the game was like a premonition of how the rest of the game was going to go. In the final quarter when I took the field for the last play, we had about three minutes left of playing time with the score being 28-3. We were crushing them.

But I wasn’t taking a knee and letting the clock run out.

No mercy.

It was time that The Rage tasted blood, that they could fucking feel victory in their bones. To do so, you needed to get out there and attack with savagery every single time. No mercy.

They needed to tap into their animal instincts, which they’d never done before. They needed to smell blood in the water. Taste it. And then absolutely annihilate the opposition - every-fucking-time!

We set up on the line of scrimmage, I called out the play - a running play that was supposed to go to Micah if he managed to get open - while I scanned up and down the line, eyeing every player.

Something was off though. The opposition’s D-line wasn’t feeling defeated. In fact, they were out for payback.

This is where players would get hurt because desperation had set in.

At the last minute, before calling for my center to hike the ball, I changed the play and yelled, “Hike!”

My center, Bubba, hiked the ball perfectly to me, I dropped into the pocket but for a moment and pretended to look to Micah before I took off.

I plowed through a couple of their big defensive players who’d gotten loose from my blockers. I stiff-armed number 19, knocking him to the ground before jumping over number 55, then making a fucking run for it, all 55 yards to the end zone.

Not one fucker could touch me.

Touch-fucking-down!

“Let’s gooooooo!” I yelled out as my teammates joined me in the end zone and chest-bumped me and slapped my helmet.

When they did that, I grabbed every helmet by the face guard while looking them in the eye and saying to each and every one of them, “You get it now? You ready to fucking dominate? This is how it’s done! ”

I probably looked like a mad man, foaming at the mouth. But they needed to see this, what was possible, as well as see someone who’d felt victory and could deliver it.

I think they were still in shock that they won an actual fucking game. But this was just the beginning for The Rage.

When we jogged off to the bench and I sat down while the kicking team took the field, I looked out over the stands and my mind drifted back to Scottie and how I needed to see her - how I needed her to be a part of this part of my life.

But letting her in on this part of my life was a high risk scenario. It involved telling her more truths - truths that I wasn’t so sure she’d be okay with quite yet. But my desperate need to have her be completely intertwined in every aspect of my life was starting to trump out the risk.

I let out a heavy sigh as our kicker got us the extra point. I leaned my head back on the bench and looked to the sky. This weekend… this weekend needed to be another major milestone for me and Scottie because I needed her here, with me, for the first game.

Just like I dominated on the field and had everything work exactly to my plan, I too needed things to work perfectly to plan with Scottie.

Let’s fucking go!