Blitzed(66)

"My what?"

"Sorry, my own term. Each of my signal calling linebackers has his own 'hot' name for when he calls stunts and audibles. I ask each guy to come up with two, so we can keep the other teams off guard. Of course, there's a bunch of other stuff you need to learn, but the hot name, that's all yours."

I nod, my decision easy. "Two, you say?"

"Yeah. Know what you want already?”

Two names come to mind immediately. “Yeah. Whitney and Laurie."

"Whitney and Laurie? Fine by me. Come on, let's get your paperwork squared away, let you meet the relocation team, and then we're having a team meeting and video session. You can meet your new teammates."

My personal assistant is a nice guy, and while I think the real estate agent might be a bit of a bitch, she's also got a good reputation, according to my assistant. I send him off to get the first thing I need, a rental car until I can sign a lease or buy something else, along with a personal request for a child's size 'Cats jersey with my number. I find out that I get to keep number 51, which I’m glad for.

Going into the video room, there's a little bit of stiffness and a faint air of hostility as I’m introduced to the guys. This defense knows what the media's been saying about them, and they know that I'm supposed to be brought in to turn around an underperforming unit. Hell, I'm the youngest starter on the defense, too, I find out. Shit, just what I need.

"Okay, let's keep this short, guys. I know we're on a bye week and most of you would like to spend some time with family," Coach says, and I wince, trying to put my feelings aside for a little while. "You okay, Troy?"

"Indigestion," I reply. "Sorry."

Coach nods, and the video session starts. I'm lucky. The 'Cats defense is already a 3-4, so I don't have to adjust, and from looking through the play book, the schemes aren't all that different, just a few wrinkles that I can adjust to pretty easily. As we wrap up around seven, I pick up my playbook and go looking for my assistant to get a ride to the hotel for the night.

As I sit outside waiting, I take out my phone. "Silver Lake Flowers, can I help you?"

"Hi, I'd like to order a dozen roses to be delivered to an art gallery in town," I say, running with it. "Do you think you can do that today?"

"Sure, we've got roses in stock," the florist says. "Where are you looking at the delivery?"

"I think the place is called Lakeside Gallery. You know the place?"

"Oh yes, I know where you're talking about. One dozen roses to Lakeside Gallery. Can I get the name of who the roses are for please?"

"Whitney Nelson. Hand deliver only to her."

"And who are they from?"

"Troy Wood."

"No f*cking way."

I get that sometimes. This time, though, I don't smile at the recognition. "Yes, Troy Wood. How much will that be?"

The shop owner hums and bit, typing in his computer, then comes back on the line. "Nothing. Total charge, including tax, is zero dollars and zero cents."

"Come on," I say, not wanting to play the fame game. "I'm serious. How much?"

"Tell you what. Next time you're in town, you sign a Silver Foxes jersey for me, and we'll call it even. If you don't agree, I'm just going to hang up and deliver the flowers anyway. So you should say yes, and then you can give me a message to give to your lady."

I know when to give up, and sigh. "All right, fine. The message is simple. Please call. That's all."

"Please call, from Troy to Whitney. Okay, I think I can handle that. I’ll try and have them over there in an hour. If she's not there, do you have an alternate delivery spot or do you want me to try again later?"

"Try again later. Thanks."

"No problem. By the way, I don't know if it helps you, but that little stunt by the Hawks cost them six season ticket holders in town so far. Guess I'm going to be a 'Cats fan now. Kick ass down there, Troy."

I hang up just as my assistant pulls up in a rental car. "Here you are. Also, I talked with the agent at the car rental place, and they said they do long-term leases and even sales if you're interested. I told them I'd ask."

I look over the car, a Cadillac sedan, then nod. "That's fine. Let me try this for a few days, and I can make a decision. In the meantime, let's get me to the hotel. I've got a playbook to learn."



I feel a little strange in the new gear, and as I finish my stretches, I realize that for only the fourth time in my life, I'm wearing a new helmet and logo. From elementary school until junior high, I was part of the Silver Lake Hawks, my town's local Pop Warner team that of course modeled themselves off the nearby Seattle team. But the team was still a feeder system for the high school team, and starting in ninth grade, I wore the silver and blue SLHS on my helmet. Then I wore the green and gold of Clement University before going back to the real Hawk logo. Now, for the first time in nearly seventeen years of playing football, I was wearing black, without even a logo on the side yet that the team wears on their game uniforms.

I look around at the ten sets of eyes looking toward me, their eyes full of doubt and questions as we line up for our first set of downs in practice. "All right, lets see what I remember from last night's study and today's meeting. Slant Fade Cowboy."