Rushed(30)

Robbie, who's also played in front of some big crowds, understands and claps me on the shoulder. "Don't sweat it. Next year this place jumps to fifty thousand, and if we're good, we might even see that. Just play the game."

"Right," I reply, looking around still, not at the crowd per se, but for April. I know it's impossible, but after two weeks of living together, including two weekly dates that have been more fun than I'd have ever dreamed, I feel the need to look for her all the time. She promised me that she'd be here, and finally, I see her wearing Western Kelly Green and White, just like she promised. She gives me a wave as our eyes meet, and I have to admit there's a certain appeal to having this small of a crowd for games. I can see the crowd up close, and for me, being able to see April is a good thing. "Just play the game."

Robbie sees where I'm looking and laughs, clapping his hands in amusement. "You wanna impress her rook, light up the scoreboard the way I know you can, and you're going to have a great date tomorrow."

"Tonight, after the game," I correct him. "You know, as long as I'm not in the hospital."

"Then make sure you've got your legs ready to run," Robbie says, clapping me on the shoulder again before he finishes snapping up his helmet. "All right, let me go handle this kickoff, see if we can make it a little easier for you."

He runs onto the field, one of the two back kick returners, our running back Bobby Young being the other one. Bobby ends up taking the kick and returning it out to our thirty-five, not too bad a starting position.

I look around at the eleven sets of eyes in the huddle, and I grin. Fuck the colors, f*ck the smaller crowd, or the drama between me and Lance. This is football, and the truth is . . . I love this f*cking game.

I get behind Dave Hawk, this play coming from under center in a play action-pass, and lift my right leg, sending three of the receivers in motion.

I fake the hand off to Bobby, who runs through the line to take up one of the linebackers while I reverse roll to my left, looking for Paul who's my first target this time on a ten yard curl pattern. His defender is jamming him too close, which is perfect when he reverses and turns, just as my pass is released. He catches it and cuts upfield, getting another four yards before he's tackled. Hey, first pass, first catch, and fourteen yards. I'll take it.

We get to the line quickly. I see Robbie, but his defender is playing him tight still, so I quickly check off to DeAndre, who's used his hitch back and up to gain a little on his defender. I let it go, and he catches it well, already pulling away. He gallops fifty yards untouched, and the Fighters are up by a touchdown.

Vince is the holder for the kicking team, and as he jogs onto the field he gives me a thumbs up. The old gunslinger giving a rub to the new sheriff, I guess. On the sidelines, I'm happy, but know there's a ton of game left to play still.

"Nice job Tyler," Coach says when I get to the bench. “But don’t get cocky, Hamilton likes to attack once they see you play. You're going to be seeing some blitzes next series."

Coach is right, but I'm able to avoid the second down blitz and I roll out, and all I see in front of me is empty field. Fuck it, let's go.

I tuck the ball in, pointing toward the nearest linebacker. Paul is my closest teammate and he sees me, cutting in and hitting the linebacker just enough that I can get around him. The free safety is coming toward me, and I lower my shoulder. Fuck you, this is my run, bitch.

He tries to take me high, probably thinking of my rep at Western, but since meeting April, I'm a new man. I take him on my left shoulder and blast into him, knocking him back. The goal line is right there and I reach for it, stretching out my arm until the ball just ekes over the line, and the ref lifts his hands. Another touchdown.



By the end, the stats are the greatest single game I've had in my life. Three hundred and fifty-two yards passing, five passing touchdowns to go along with sixty-two yards rushing and one more touchdown run in. If I'd ever put up those numbers while at Western, I'd have been pulled before the third quarter was finished because we'd be blowing the other team out.

As it is, we actually only win by two touchdowns, forty-two to twenty-eight, and it took a touchdown throw in the last two minutes to ice the game for us. Our defense is nowhere near as good as what I'm used to, and I'm looking at a long season of gunslinging if they don't pick it up. Afterward, I'm tired, but happy that at least we got a win.

April greets me outside the locker room, still giving me the same faint smile that I'd seen a few other times during the game when I'd turn my head and see her in her seat, still cheering, but with that little Mona Lisa smile on her face.

"So what did you think?" I asked, running my hands through my hair. I had to deal with two reporters, not a lot considering some of the press conferences that I had at Western, but still, looks count for something, even if it's just for endorsements.

"A good start to the season," April replies, taking my hand. We're not at the kissing in public stage in our relationship yet, even if we are living together, but when we're not in work hours, even around the stadium, we've started to at least hold hands some while we walk and talk. "You scared me a bit though by trying to run over that guy.”

"Why's that?"

"Well, that guy's got a reputation, he's a hard hitter. He really tore some people up in the last few years. He's just on the edge of dirty, from what I remember."