“It’s a hel of a lot better than Astroturf.”
“Agreed,” he says, laughing. Another plus? Coach Bryson clearly doesn’t care if I use language unbecoming of a lady.
“I love the stadium,” I say. “It has a lot of character.”
“Yeah—I’ve always felt like it’s alive, you know? Kind of like New York City.”
I nod, smiling.
“Want to meet some of the guys?” he asks.
“Definitely! I mean, if they want to meet me.”
I can’t help but wonder where the other thirty team members are. Could they be anti-girl, like the guys at Alabama?
“You know, I didn’t tel them they had to come out early today. They were beside themselves when I told them you were coming to visit.”
“Real y?” I say. Henry snorts. Being on this field is giving me confidence, so I turn and say, “Shut up, Henry! Would you stop being so freaking jealous al the time?”
Dad and Coach Bryson laugh, and so does Henry. I’m glad he’s smiling.
“Let’s go, Woods,” Coach Bryson says, beckoning me to walk across the field to the benches. Dad and Henry stay behind. None of the guys are dressed to play yet, as the game isn’t going to start for hours, but they’re wearing green and white sweats and they look ready to work out.
Another plus? These guys are just as hot as the Alabama boys. Sa-woon! Their starting quarterback, Todd Phil ips, this buff guy with olive skin, black hair, hazel eyes, and a rugged scar on his jaw, steps up and shakes my hand. He’s gorgeous and he knows it. shakes my hand. He’s gorgeous and he knows it.
“God, you’re beautiful. I love your accent,” he says, putting an arm around me, but I shove him away. Dad was right—sexist guys are everywhere. Phil ips laughs at me, turning to Coach Bryson. “Coach—do I get to be her sponsor?”
“Oh, hel no,” Coach Bryson responds, pul ing Phil ips away by the hood of his sweatshirt. “I wouldn’t let a pig like you within a hundred feet of my own daughter. Go run a lap, wil you?” Al the other guys laugh, so I smile too. Phil ips jogs off toward the track, blowing me a kiss. This time, I actual y do catch the kiss, crumble it in my hand, and throw it to the ground, where I pretend to stomp on it.
“Ouch!” the guys exclaim, chuckling.
“Sponsor?” I say, focusing on Coach Bryson again.
“Al new recruits get assigned a sponsor on the team—like a big brother, someone to show you the ropes. If you decide you want to be part of our team, I’l assign our freshman center, Seth Brennan, to you.”
The guys say, “Damn” and “Figures” as they shove a younger, pudgy guy around. The pudgy guy, who I can only assume is Brennan, looks like a pinbal being bounced between al these linebackers and wide receivers.
When he final y gets dislodged from the group, he comes over and, after smoothing his hair, says, “Nice to meet you, Jordan.” He beams at me. “If we’ve got time before our game tonight, I’d love to show you around campus.”
“What do you mean by campus?” I ask, thinking of Mr. Tucker’s boring tour of the Alabama newspaper stands and bike racks.
“You know, where the best pizza place is, and where our gym is, and where the twenty-four-hour mini-mart is, important stuff like that. I’l even spring for a slice of pizza. And you’ve gotta try the smoothies at the minimart.”
“Sounds great.” I slap Brennan’s shoulder.
“Wooo! Brennan’s got himself a date!” one of the guys says, smacking Brennan’s ass.
“How’d you manage that, Brennan?” says another guy.
A couple guys stare me down, narrowing their eyes. Checking me out, like they’re trying to decide if I’m a circus show or the real thing.
“I’m grateful for the opportunity to meet y’al ,” I tel the team. “You’ve got a great program.”
“Want to show us what you’ve got, Woods?” asks one of the players, who I recognize as a wide receiver. According to the Michigan State website, this dude is pul ing numbers almost as good as Jake Reynolds’s, so I bet I’l be seeing him at the NFL draft soon. He drops a footbal into my hands.
“Hel yeah,” I reply, bending my knee a couple times.
“Check this.” Henry and Dad are standing about fortyfive yards away down near the goal posts. Tossing the bal up in the air to myself, I cal out, “Henry!”
I hop back a few steps and hurl the bal down to my best friend, a perfect spiral. Seconds later, it lands right in his hands.
“Very nice,” Coach Bryson says, and some of the guys whistle and pat my back, jostling me around. Henry tosses the bal up in the air and Dad catches it. When he winds up to throw it back, several of the players jog out because they obviously want to catch Dad’s pass. They’re shoving each other, acting like a bunch of boneheads, but they’re boneheads I think I could grow to love, much like the guys I’ve grown up with over the past ten years.
Dad launches the bal down the field, but he didn’t aim at any of the guys vying for the pass, but to me. As I catch the bal , I feel my eyes burning. This pass was a sign of respect.
Everything about this stadium, this coach, this team, Everything about this stadium, this coach, this team, this moment, feels right. I hope I can win the respect of the rest of the team, if it needs to be won.
For the next hour, Phil ips shows me some moves, and I can already tel I could learn a ton from him. We run some plays with the wide receivers and we even do a dril where some linebackers rush at me and I have to get the bal off within three seconds. Then Henry and I show off our flawless hook and lateral play, Red Rabbit, which total y impresses Phil ips. With his hand cupping his chin, he watches as I do a few handoffs to some running backs and gives me pointers. Unlike when I first showed up at the stadium, he behaves seriously, treating me as an equal, which I love in a leader.
Final y, Coach Bryson claps a hand on my back. “So what do you think?”
It’s like what I told Carter. Sometimes you have to give something up to get something better. I’m wil ing to give up my fantasies of Alabama if it means I actual y get to play for a coach and with guys who al respect me. Grinning and tossing the bal to myself, I turn to Coach Bryson. “I should explore al my options, but I think you’re my number one choice.”
He smiles and a bunch of the players start whooping and shoving me around.
Phil ips slaps Brennan’s back and says, “Brennan might final y get himself a girlfriend!”