War of the Roses: Redux Edition
-
Captain Canada
- Posts: 2208
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
War of the Roses: Redux Edition
Scarlett bout to fuck all this shit up
War of the Roses: Redux Edition
Following Orders
“It’s been a long few months, but the Bayou Sports podcast is back, baby! And we’re excited to say that spring football is well and truly here! All around the Tri-Parish area, teams are getting ready for their spring games and the temperatures are shooting up. That can only mean one thing. Yes, ladies and gentlemen. In a few short months, we’ll be back to lacing them up, turning on the lines and proving just who the toughest football team in the Teche area is on Friday nights. Jeff, I’m about to say something that I’ve never said in the five years we’ve been doing this podcast together.”
“What’s that, bo?”
“If there’s one team that everyone is going to be watching this year, it’s Terrebonne. Gasp, gasp, shriek, shriek. No one in the history of sports in this region has ever said that, right? It’s absolutely ludicrous.”
“Mais, I was at the Rouse a couple weeks back and heard people calling this squad a ‘super team.’ You might be the only one saying it outloud but they got plenty folks out there think that Terrebonne is going to turn some heads this year.”
“There’s a lot of talent there, I just don’t know how Coach Hill is going to hold it altogether. Remember, we’re not even a year removed from those same guys who were made to transfer to Terrebonne smacking the dog sh—Sorry, mom – out of the same team that they play for now. Memories are short in football, but they aren’t that short and not when it comes to something like this.”
“Well, my mama, she always use to say one thing. Ain’t nothing scarier than a mad alligator down in the swamp. Terrebonne a mad alligator, them. If they can fight the other team instead of fighting each other, they’ll have a good season.”
“Run it again!” Coach Hill shouted from behind Ron. The man was red in the face from a mixture of the heat and the pressure of having to speed up spring camp to get a team of this size ready in time for the spring game. “Surely, you’ve learned the playbook by now and understand what you’re telling everyone to do.”
Ron chewed on his mouthpiece, hands on his hips. He spoke through the chewing. “Just getting used to the new terminology, coach. “
“We made it simple enough. 78 Washington. You know what 78 Washington means, don’t you? Or do I need to get Thaddeus in here to show you?”
“I know what 78 Washington means, coach,” Ron said turning to the small group of six that had gathered around him. He looked over at the other side of the field as the seven defenders they’d be drilling against received their next assignment. “Y’all heard the man. 78 Washington, again.”
“It’s your boy who keeps running the wrong route,” Hasan said, nodding toward Caesar.
“I know the fucking play, punk bitch.”
“Alright, ladies,” Noah, a junior receiver, said. “Can we get this thing moving so coach lets us go home?”
Ron shrugged and clapped his hands. He walked to the “line of scrimmage” and scanned the defense. Kenyatta lined up over Caesar. Glancing over at the receiver, Ron found him looking back. The two of them shared a nod.
“Easy! Easy! Bandit 18! Bandit 18!” Ron shouted. He motioned with his hand to Caesar, drawing confusion from the rest of the “offense” as the audible wasn’t in Terrebonne’s playbook. “Hut!”
Instead of running the post the play called for, Caesar streaked down the sideline and waved for the ball once he’d gotten a step on Kenyatta. With no safety help over the top, Ron easily dropped the ball over Caesar’s shoulder for a “touchdown.”
“DeRossi, get out. Thaddeus, get in,” Coach Hill said, his arms folded across his chest.
“What the fuck did I do?” Ron asked.
“Curse at me again on my field and you’ll be running stadiums until you know exactly what the fuck you just did. You’ll be with the second unit for the rest of the week.”
Ron ripped his helmet off and chucked his mouthpiece across the field as he walked over to the rest of the second team. Trigga took his place in the huddle.
From the other side of the field, Devin watched the outburst and shook his head. As composed as Ron DeRossi was made out to be, he threw temper tantrums just like the rest of them. If they’d been playing a real game, the quarterback would’ve been eating turf instead of throwing touchdowns for the stunt he’d just pulled.
“Devin, swap over to the other side for a couple reps,” Coach Detiveaux said, shoving him in the right direction.
He nodded and jogged over to cover Caesar. The tall receiver looked at him and snorted out a laugh. Devin inched closer to the line just as Trigga snapped the ball.
Caesar shoved Devin away and immediately called for the pass. Trigga threw a bullet right into his hands. Devin lunged to touch him and end the play, but Caesar juked backward then smacked him in the back of the helmet to make sure he went past.
Coach Hill blew his whistle, stomping over to the receiver. He grabbed a fistful of his jersey and pulled him so the coach was in his face. “What part of half speed don’t you understand, Jenkins? You don’t do us any good if you’re coming out here trying to hurt your teammates!”
“I don’t see what the problem is. I could’ve run him over. It was just a love tap,” Caesar said before throwing the ball down. “He’s alright, anyway. Right, bitch?”
“Fuck off,” Devin said, adjusting his helmet.
“See, he’s fine.”
“Do that again and you’ll find yourself with the second team, too,” Coach Hill warned before he walked back to his spot behind where the ball had been placed. “Run it again!”
As the two sides lined up, Coach Detiveaux walked up to Devin. “Hit him when he comes off the line,” the coach said.
“What?” Devin asked.
“Just hit him when he comes off the line,” Detiveaux repeated. “Don’t worry about Coach Hill. I’ll get you out the shit with him. Hit him. He won’t know it’s coming. Sometimes, diva receivers need some act right.”
Devin nodded and backed away from the line. Caesar glanced at him and shook his head, waving at Trigga and pointing to where he seemingly wanted the ball thrown. Trigga nodded and snapped the ball.
Without Devin to press him, Caesar began his pattern. Devin, on the other hand, broke into a full sprint and lowered his shoulder into Caesar’s back just as the ball was meeting his hands. Just as Coach Detiveaux expected, Caesar went down in a heap and failed to catch the ball.
Devin rolled to his feet and had to duck a fist aimed at his head. The coaches and some of the players were quick to rush over and hold Caesar back.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, bitch?!” Caesar shouted, ripping his helmet off. “We’re taking cheap shots in practice now?!”
“You started it,” Devin said with a shrug.
“Jenkins, second team. Devin, don’t do that again!” Coach Hill shouted over the din of voices.
Caesar reared back and launched his helmet across the field. It rolled down to the endzone before coming to a stop. “How the fuck do I get punished for getting hit in a fucking seven on seven?”
“Because you swung on him. There’s no fighting on my field.” Hill said. “Now, get out before I decide that putting you with the other unit isn’t enough for what you just did to my helmet. You might want to go get that, too.”
“Fuck your helmet,” Caesar said. Instead of heading to the endzone, he turned to the fieldhouse and began taking off his jersey.
Coach Thomas shook his head and followed behind him. “Caesar, get your ass back over here!”
Coach Hill sighed and turned to Devin. “Don’t fucking do that shit again or I’ll bench your ass, too.”
“Got it, coach,” Devin said.
Unbeknownst to Coach Hill, Coach Detiveaux gave Devin a congratulatory smack on his shoulder before yelling at the others for a blown coverage.
“It’s been a long few months, but the Bayou Sports podcast is back, baby! And we’re excited to say that spring football is well and truly here! All around the Tri-Parish area, teams are getting ready for their spring games and the temperatures are shooting up. That can only mean one thing. Yes, ladies and gentlemen. In a few short months, we’ll be back to lacing them up, turning on the lines and proving just who the toughest football team in the Teche area is on Friday nights. Jeff, I’m about to say something that I’ve never said in the five years we’ve been doing this podcast together.”
“What’s that, bo?”
“If there’s one team that everyone is going to be watching this year, it’s Terrebonne. Gasp, gasp, shriek, shriek. No one in the history of sports in this region has ever said that, right? It’s absolutely ludicrous.”
“Mais, I was at the Rouse a couple weeks back and heard people calling this squad a ‘super team.’ You might be the only one saying it outloud but they got plenty folks out there think that Terrebonne is going to turn some heads this year.”
“There’s a lot of talent there, I just don’t know how Coach Hill is going to hold it altogether. Remember, we’re not even a year removed from those same guys who were made to transfer to Terrebonne smacking the dog sh—Sorry, mom – out of the same team that they play for now. Memories are short in football, but they aren’t that short and not when it comes to something like this.”
“Well, my mama, she always use to say one thing. Ain’t nothing scarier than a mad alligator down in the swamp. Terrebonne a mad alligator, them. If they can fight the other team instead of fighting each other, they’ll have a good season.”
-*****-
“Run it again!” Coach Hill shouted from behind Ron. The man was red in the face from a mixture of the heat and the pressure of having to speed up spring camp to get a team of this size ready in time for the spring game. “Surely, you’ve learned the playbook by now and understand what you’re telling everyone to do.”
Ron chewed on his mouthpiece, hands on his hips. He spoke through the chewing. “Just getting used to the new terminology, coach. “
“We made it simple enough. 78 Washington. You know what 78 Washington means, don’t you? Or do I need to get Thaddeus in here to show you?”
“I know what 78 Washington means, coach,” Ron said turning to the small group of six that had gathered around him. He looked over at the other side of the field as the seven defenders they’d be drilling against received their next assignment. “Y’all heard the man. 78 Washington, again.”
“It’s your boy who keeps running the wrong route,” Hasan said, nodding toward Caesar.
“I know the fucking play, punk bitch.”
“Alright, ladies,” Noah, a junior receiver, said. “Can we get this thing moving so coach lets us go home?”
Ron shrugged and clapped his hands. He walked to the “line of scrimmage” and scanned the defense. Kenyatta lined up over Caesar. Glancing over at the receiver, Ron found him looking back. The two of them shared a nod.
“Easy! Easy! Bandit 18! Bandit 18!” Ron shouted. He motioned with his hand to Caesar, drawing confusion from the rest of the “offense” as the audible wasn’t in Terrebonne’s playbook. “Hut!”
Instead of running the post the play called for, Caesar streaked down the sideline and waved for the ball once he’d gotten a step on Kenyatta. With no safety help over the top, Ron easily dropped the ball over Caesar’s shoulder for a “touchdown.”
“DeRossi, get out. Thaddeus, get in,” Coach Hill said, his arms folded across his chest.
“What the fuck did I do?” Ron asked.
“Curse at me again on my field and you’ll be running stadiums until you know exactly what the fuck you just did. You’ll be with the second unit for the rest of the week.”
Ron ripped his helmet off and chucked his mouthpiece across the field as he walked over to the rest of the second team. Trigga took his place in the huddle.
From the other side of the field, Devin watched the outburst and shook his head. As composed as Ron DeRossi was made out to be, he threw temper tantrums just like the rest of them. If they’d been playing a real game, the quarterback would’ve been eating turf instead of throwing touchdowns for the stunt he’d just pulled.
“Devin, swap over to the other side for a couple reps,” Coach Detiveaux said, shoving him in the right direction.
He nodded and jogged over to cover Caesar. The tall receiver looked at him and snorted out a laugh. Devin inched closer to the line just as Trigga snapped the ball.
Caesar shoved Devin away and immediately called for the pass. Trigga threw a bullet right into his hands. Devin lunged to touch him and end the play, but Caesar juked backward then smacked him in the back of the helmet to make sure he went past.
Coach Hill blew his whistle, stomping over to the receiver. He grabbed a fistful of his jersey and pulled him so the coach was in his face. “What part of half speed don’t you understand, Jenkins? You don’t do us any good if you’re coming out here trying to hurt your teammates!”
“I don’t see what the problem is. I could’ve run him over. It was just a love tap,” Caesar said before throwing the ball down. “He’s alright, anyway. Right, bitch?”
“Fuck off,” Devin said, adjusting his helmet.
“See, he’s fine.”
“Do that again and you’ll find yourself with the second team, too,” Coach Hill warned before he walked back to his spot behind where the ball had been placed. “Run it again!”
As the two sides lined up, Coach Detiveaux walked up to Devin. “Hit him when he comes off the line,” the coach said.
“What?” Devin asked.
“Just hit him when he comes off the line,” Detiveaux repeated. “Don’t worry about Coach Hill. I’ll get you out the shit with him. Hit him. He won’t know it’s coming. Sometimes, diva receivers need some act right.”
Devin nodded and backed away from the line. Caesar glanced at him and shook his head, waving at Trigga and pointing to where he seemingly wanted the ball thrown. Trigga nodded and snapped the ball.
Without Devin to press him, Caesar began his pattern. Devin, on the other hand, broke into a full sprint and lowered his shoulder into Caesar’s back just as the ball was meeting his hands. Just as Coach Detiveaux expected, Caesar went down in a heap and failed to catch the ball.
Devin rolled to his feet and had to duck a fist aimed at his head. The coaches and some of the players were quick to rush over and hold Caesar back.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, bitch?!” Caesar shouted, ripping his helmet off. “We’re taking cheap shots in practice now?!”
“You started it,” Devin said with a shrug.
“Jenkins, second team. Devin, don’t do that again!” Coach Hill shouted over the din of voices.
Caesar reared back and launched his helmet across the field. It rolled down to the endzone before coming to a stop. “How the fuck do I get punished for getting hit in a fucking seven on seven?”
“Because you swung on him. There’s no fighting on my field.” Hill said. “Now, get out before I decide that putting you with the other unit isn’t enough for what you just did to my helmet. You might want to go get that, too.”
“Fuck your helmet,” Caesar said. Instead of heading to the endzone, he turned to the fieldhouse and began taking off his jersey.
Coach Thomas shook his head and followed behind him. “Caesar, get your ass back over here!”
Coach Hill sighed and turned to Devin. “Don’t fucking do that shit again or I’ll bench your ass, too.”
“Got it, coach,” Devin said.
Unbeknownst to Coach Hill, Coach Detiveaux gave Devin a congratulatory smack on his shoulder before yelling at the others for a blown coverage.
War of the Roses: Redux Edition
these niggas some little hissy fit bitches
War of the Roses: Redux Edition
Idahoan Potatoes
Devin lounged back in the passenger seat of Scarlett’s car on his lunch break. As best she could, she rested her head on his chest from across the center console. He’d already told her twice that looked massively uncomfortable, but still, she persisted.
“I’m sorry if I’m taking up your time to eat,” she said, glancing up at him.
He shook his head, brushing off the inconvenience. “Hasan steals shit all night and forces me to help him eat it, so the managers don’t catch him with a shit ton of stuff on him all the time.”
“Devin!” She smacked him on his chest.
“What?”
“I can’t believe that you’re stealing.”
“Correction, Hasan is stealing. I’m just benefiting from his criminal activity. Besides, everyone in there does it. The cashiers are the worst. They’ll stick things under customers’ items, so they have a receipt for it.”
“You’re making me not want to go in there anymore.”
“It’s a dirty, dirty world.” He laughed.
Scarlett shook her head as best she could with it pressed against Devin’s chest. “If you get fired, I’m going to break up with you for being stupid. There are a million other things to do with your time while at work than figure out how to steal.”
“After all this time, that’s what’s going to make you leave me? I’m hurt, Scar.”
“No, I’m joking, but stop stealing. It’s wrong.”
Devin held up his hand, nodding to a woman walking by. “With that lady as my witness, I will stop taking food offered to me by my friend that he has stolen because he isn’t as good of a person as I am. But I make no promises on the ice cream sandwiches because they are too good.”
“You know, it wouldn’t be all that bad of a thing if you quit though.”
“What?”
Scarlett sat up so she could look at him. “I barely see you now between work and football. I don’t know. Maybe I’m being clingy. I’m just used to seeing you more often.”
“I’m sorry. I know it’s been hard. School’s about to end so I’ll have more time without needing to worry about studying and shit.”
“Don’t remind me. I’m still dreading this history stuff.”
“I thought you found someone to help you with all that?”
“Uh, yeah,” Scarlett said, her voice quiet. She took a deep breath and paused for a moment. “Yeah, I did. I’m meeting with them tomorrow. If it turns out they’re lying about knowing all this stuff though I’m going to kick their ass.”
Devin laughed. “Why would whoever this person is lie about that? Who is it anyway? You never told me.”
Scarlett fidgeted with her hand for a moment. Then she lied. “This girl Cassie who’s in the class before mine. She dates some guy at Nicholls and he helps her with all her homework so she’s learned a thing or two.”
Devin had a fleeting inkling to pull out his phone and make a quick scan of social media to try to find any girls at Terrebonne named Cassie who Scarlett might know but quickly decided that he trusted her enough to let it slide.
“Seems like she has the master plan,” Devin said. “Hook up with some guy in college and have him teach her all the shit he learned in high school. Too bad he’s going to get arrested when someone finds out that he’s messing with 16-year-old high school sophomores.”
“I guess they’re willing to risk it all for love.” Scarlett shrugged.
“I guess,” Devin repeated. He glanced at the time on the dash. “Alright, I have to go back or Ralph is going to come out here looking for me.”
“This sucks,” Scarlett pouted. “I expect you to make up all this time we’ve missed together when the summer comes.”
Devin kissed her on her forehead. “I will.”
“Excuse me, young man. Do you know where I can find the potatoes?”
Devin turned around to find a middle-aged man standing behind a cart – a mostly empty cart. He suppressed the urge to sigh, knowing it was close to closing time and this guy hadn’t even started his shopping yet.
“They’re on the other side of the store. Between the meat department and the bakery and all that. Can’t miss it.” Devin pointed across the store to make his point. From where he was standing, he could even see the potatoes.
The man nodded and began to turn in that direction, but stopped short and looked back at Devin. “Have you ever been to Idaho? I know it’s a random question with me asking about potatoes and all, but well, have you?”
“No,” Devin said, confused. “I don’t think that’s all that common of a vacation destination.”
“You’re right about that.” He laughed as he reached into his pocket for his wallet and pulled out a blue card. He held it out to Devin. “My name’s Greg Brandt. I’m the defensive backs coach up at Boise State. You know, in Idaho?”
Devin nodded, taking the card adorned with a blue and orange Bronco. “Yeah, I’m--”
“Devin.” Greg Brandt pointed at his nametag. “I’m not going to bullshit you, son. This ain’t our recruiting grounds, but I was down at Blinn over in Texas and a guy I knew told me you were a diamond in the rough. He said you could make it to the pros with the right nurturing.”
“Someone said that about me?”
“Yes, sir. I’ve seen the film. You have the tools and the talent, for sure. I can’t speak for what Coach Haller has in mind for the next few years, but I’m interested in bringing you to Boise. We got a couple juniors starting now. In two years, that could be you.”
“I don’t think I’m going to be starting for a school at y’all’s level, to be honest, sir.”
Brandt laughed. “I’ve only been doing this recruiting stuff for a few seasons now and I’ve never had a kid tell me that they weren’t good enough. It’s usually us saying that we aren’t good enough compared to ‘SC or Arizona State or Oregon. I wouldn’t have flown into New Orleans, drove down here to the middle of nowhere and found you at this grocery store if I didn’t think you were good enough.”
“Houma’s probably as big as Boise. With all due respect.”
“That’s probably true, but let me give you the rundown. We’ve won the last eight Mountain West conference crowns. We’re sending guys to the league just as often as anyone else. We aren’t getting into the playoffs or the NY6 bowls because where we play and I’m not going to bullshit you on the politics but you’ll play all over the country and in front of the biggest crowds.” Brandt reached into his pocket again and dropped a folded sheet of paper in the cart. “I’m not saying we’re offering you today because I’m a stickler for rules and the NCAA says we can’t speak yet or speak off the campus, but we’re interested in you, kid. Just give it a bit of a think.”
Devin nodded. “Will do. Thank you, sir.”
The man scratched his chin. “Can you tell me somewhere to get some of that jam-ba-lay-a stuff y’all eat around here?”
“At 9:45?”
“Good point. Maybe next time.” Brandt turned on his heel and headed for the exit.
Devin sighed, grabbing the cart to put it back with the others. He noticed the paper in the cart and picked it up. “Hey! You left something in here!”
The coach turned back. “You got a girlfriend, Devin?”
“Yeah?” he answered, again confused.
“I like to take my fiancée out to dinner once a week. Been doing it since we were just dating. It’s one of the reasons she said yes.” He paused. “So, she says. Take your girlfriend out to dinner once a week, Devin. Oh, and that’s not mine. Finders keepers, right? See ya, kid.”
Devin watched Greg Brandt leave the store before unfolding the sheet of paper. Three hundred dollar bills fell out of it and floated to the floor. Devin quickly snatched them up and shoved them into his pocket, looking around to make sure no other employees or customers had seen the money.
Devin lounged back in the passenger seat of Scarlett’s car on his lunch break. As best she could, she rested her head on his chest from across the center console. He’d already told her twice that looked massively uncomfortable, but still, she persisted.
“I’m sorry if I’m taking up your time to eat,” she said, glancing up at him.
He shook his head, brushing off the inconvenience. “Hasan steals shit all night and forces me to help him eat it, so the managers don’t catch him with a shit ton of stuff on him all the time.”
“Devin!” She smacked him on his chest.
“What?”
“I can’t believe that you’re stealing.”
“Correction, Hasan is stealing. I’m just benefiting from his criminal activity. Besides, everyone in there does it. The cashiers are the worst. They’ll stick things under customers’ items, so they have a receipt for it.”
“You’re making me not want to go in there anymore.”
“It’s a dirty, dirty world.” He laughed.
Scarlett shook her head as best she could with it pressed against Devin’s chest. “If you get fired, I’m going to break up with you for being stupid. There are a million other things to do with your time while at work than figure out how to steal.”
“After all this time, that’s what’s going to make you leave me? I’m hurt, Scar.”
“No, I’m joking, but stop stealing. It’s wrong.”
Devin held up his hand, nodding to a woman walking by. “With that lady as my witness, I will stop taking food offered to me by my friend that he has stolen because he isn’t as good of a person as I am. But I make no promises on the ice cream sandwiches because they are too good.”
“You know, it wouldn’t be all that bad of a thing if you quit though.”
“What?”
Scarlett sat up so she could look at him. “I barely see you now between work and football. I don’t know. Maybe I’m being clingy. I’m just used to seeing you more often.”
“I’m sorry. I know it’s been hard. School’s about to end so I’ll have more time without needing to worry about studying and shit.”
“Don’t remind me. I’m still dreading this history stuff.”
“I thought you found someone to help you with all that?”
“Uh, yeah,” Scarlett said, her voice quiet. She took a deep breath and paused for a moment. “Yeah, I did. I’m meeting with them tomorrow. If it turns out they’re lying about knowing all this stuff though I’m going to kick their ass.”
Devin laughed. “Why would whoever this person is lie about that? Who is it anyway? You never told me.”
Scarlett fidgeted with her hand for a moment. Then she lied. “This girl Cassie who’s in the class before mine. She dates some guy at Nicholls and he helps her with all her homework so she’s learned a thing or two.”
Devin had a fleeting inkling to pull out his phone and make a quick scan of social media to try to find any girls at Terrebonne named Cassie who Scarlett might know but quickly decided that he trusted her enough to let it slide.
“Seems like she has the master plan,” Devin said. “Hook up with some guy in college and have him teach her all the shit he learned in high school. Too bad he’s going to get arrested when someone finds out that he’s messing with 16-year-old high school sophomores.”
“I guess they’re willing to risk it all for love.” Scarlett shrugged.
“I guess,” Devin repeated. He glanced at the time on the dash. “Alright, I have to go back or Ralph is going to come out here looking for me.”
“This sucks,” Scarlett pouted. “I expect you to make up all this time we’ve missed together when the summer comes.”
Devin kissed her on her forehead. “I will.”
-*****-
“Excuse me, young man. Do you know where I can find the potatoes?”
Devin turned around to find a middle-aged man standing behind a cart – a mostly empty cart. He suppressed the urge to sigh, knowing it was close to closing time and this guy hadn’t even started his shopping yet.
“They’re on the other side of the store. Between the meat department and the bakery and all that. Can’t miss it.” Devin pointed across the store to make his point. From where he was standing, he could even see the potatoes.
The man nodded and began to turn in that direction, but stopped short and looked back at Devin. “Have you ever been to Idaho? I know it’s a random question with me asking about potatoes and all, but well, have you?”
“No,” Devin said, confused. “I don’t think that’s all that common of a vacation destination.”
“You’re right about that.” He laughed as he reached into his pocket for his wallet and pulled out a blue card. He held it out to Devin. “My name’s Greg Brandt. I’m the defensive backs coach up at Boise State. You know, in Idaho?”
Devin nodded, taking the card adorned with a blue and orange Bronco. “Yeah, I’m--”
“Devin.” Greg Brandt pointed at his nametag. “I’m not going to bullshit you, son. This ain’t our recruiting grounds, but I was down at Blinn over in Texas and a guy I knew told me you were a diamond in the rough. He said you could make it to the pros with the right nurturing.”
“Someone said that about me?”
“Yes, sir. I’ve seen the film. You have the tools and the talent, for sure. I can’t speak for what Coach Haller has in mind for the next few years, but I’m interested in bringing you to Boise. We got a couple juniors starting now. In two years, that could be you.”
“I don’t think I’m going to be starting for a school at y’all’s level, to be honest, sir.”
Brandt laughed. “I’ve only been doing this recruiting stuff for a few seasons now and I’ve never had a kid tell me that they weren’t good enough. It’s usually us saying that we aren’t good enough compared to ‘SC or Arizona State or Oregon. I wouldn’t have flown into New Orleans, drove down here to the middle of nowhere and found you at this grocery store if I didn’t think you were good enough.”
“Houma’s probably as big as Boise. With all due respect.”
“That’s probably true, but let me give you the rundown. We’ve won the last eight Mountain West conference crowns. We’re sending guys to the league just as often as anyone else. We aren’t getting into the playoffs or the NY6 bowls because where we play and I’m not going to bullshit you on the politics but you’ll play all over the country and in front of the biggest crowds.” Brandt reached into his pocket again and dropped a folded sheet of paper in the cart. “I’m not saying we’re offering you today because I’m a stickler for rules and the NCAA says we can’t speak yet or speak off the campus, but we’re interested in you, kid. Just give it a bit of a think.”
Devin nodded. “Will do. Thank you, sir.”
The man scratched his chin. “Can you tell me somewhere to get some of that jam-ba-lay-a stuff y’all eat around here?”
“At 9:45?”
“Good point. Maybe next time.” Brandt turned on his heel and headed for the exit.
Devin sighed, grabbing the cart to put it back with the others. He noticed the paper in the cart and picked it up. “Hey! You left something in here!”
The coach turned back. “You got a girlfriend, Devin?”
“Yeah?” he answered, again confused.
“I like to take my fiancée out to dinner once a week. Been doing it since we were just dating. It’s one of the reasons she said yes.” He paused. “So, she says. Take your girlfriend out to dinner once a week, Devin. Oh, and that’s not mine. Finders keepers, right? See ya, kid.”
Devin watched Greg Brandt leave the store before unfolding the sheet of paper. Three hundred dollar bills fell out of it and floated to the floor. Devin quickly snatched them up and shoved them into his pocket, looking around to make sure no other employees or customers had seen the money.
Last edited by Caesar on 02 Sep 2019, 04:36, edited 1 time in total.
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Captain Canada
- Posts: 2208
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
War of the Roses: Redux Edition
Devin's first payday, ain't that sweet 
War of the Roses: Redux Edition
Gray Sweatpants
Caesar lay in his bed staring up at the ceiling. The room was dark outside of the light coming from the windows. He could hear his phone vibrating every few seconds on the night stand. There was a party somewhere that someone wanted him to turn up at, he was sure.
He ran his hand over his face and swung his feet out of the bed so that he was sitting. He put his face in his hands and took a few deep breaths.
Walking across the room, he dug into the pockets of the various pairs of pants he’d worn throughout the week – yet to have been taken away by the housekeeper. He pulled an empty ziploc bag out of a pocket, the pills that had once been inside long gone.
“Fuck!” he shouted, jumping over the bed and grabbing the still vibrating phone from the nightstand, turning and throwing it out of the window. A jagged hole in the glass showed where the phone had gone through.
He picked up the only other thing on the night stand, his state championship ring, and threw that out of the window through the hole he’d just made with the phone.
Running his hands over his face and through his hair, he paced briefly around the room.
Then panic struck him.
He tore out of the room and ran down the hall. He bounded down the stairs, two and three at a time. He yanked the backdoor open and darted out into the yard, ignoring that he wasn’t wearing shoes.
He fell to his hands and knees and began searching the grass, moving along frantically.
After a few minutes of looking, his fingers hit a hard object. He quickly snatched it up and held it up to his face so he could see in the dark of the night. Sighing with relief, he slipped the championship ring onto his finger before laying down in the grass and closing his eyes.
Scarlett walked up the long driveway to the massive house that seemingly dwarfed the others nearby. She tightened her grip on her bag, feeling extremely out of place among Houma’s most glamorous homes and walking toward the most ornate – and probably most ostentatious – of them all. It felt like she was in a completely different city.
She raised her hand to knock on the door, but it swung open before she could. A man wearing an apron appeared on the other side of it. He gave her a disapproving once over.
“Putain de merde. The delivery said mid-day and you come at four. J’y crois pas!” he shouted; his words colored with his French accent. “Out, out! Give me the delivery and go!”
Scarlett looked around to see if anyone was behind her that the man may have been speaking to. “I’m not a delivery person I’m--”
“If you not bring delivery, you go. I speak to manager.” The man slammed the door shut.
Confused, Scarlett took her phone out to make sure that she had the right house when the door opened again. Caesar now stood where the man was. He dried his face with a towel that hung over bare shoulders. She glanced down and noticed he only wore a pair of gray sweatpants.
“Are you going to stand there or are you going to come in?” he asked. He moved out of the way before she answered.
“Sorry, thought I had the wrong house,” she said, stepping inside and making sure that she only looked up. “I think your dad thought that I was delivering something.”
“My dad? You mean, Pierre?”
“If that’s who was at the door just now.”
Caesar laughed as he shut the door behind her. “Pierre’s our personal chef. You want me to tell him to whip you up something?”
She paused, once again feeling like she was out of place. The pause must’ve been too long because Caesar snapped his fingers in front of her face.
“Is that a no?” he asked.
“No, I’m good. Thanks. Living room or kitchen?”
He laughed and turned toward a staircase, stepping onto the first step. “I’m not a 12-year-old boy being chaperoned by his mom, Scarlett, and I’m not going to try to fuck you just because you’re in my bedroom. Let’s get this over with, huh?”
Sighing, she followed him up the stairs. She tried to stop herself from gawking at the absurd show of wealth that every inch of the house seemed to be used for. She’d been in the homes of people who were considered extremely well off before, but everything paled in comparison to this.
Even Caesar’s bedroom was bigger than some people’s apartments. It seemed like it took up an entire side of the house. There was even a separate living space with a couch and two chairs. Caesar sat on the couch and tossed the towel on the floor carelessly.
“Let me see your notes. You might be taking down the wrong shit from the start,” he said, holding his hand out.
She reached in her bag and handed him a folder. He opened it and started looking through the pages.
He looked up at her after a few moments. “Sit down. I know you’ve been in a guy’s bedroom before. People told me you and Devin been together for years. This is small fries to what y’all probably get up to.”
Scarlett didn’t answer, but did sit in one of the chairs and placed her bag on her lap. She tried to look anywhere but at him.
“Can you put a shirt on?” she finally asked.
He didn’t look up from her notes. “Why? I’m comfortable like this.”
“Because I’m not.”
He made a show of sighing and shoving up from the couch. He walked behind her to another part of the room and came back with a shirt. Standing in front of her, he pulled it over his head. “Good now?”
“Yes, thank you,” she said, turning her head so she was looking at the wall until he’d sat back down.
“Your note taking sucks ass,” Caesar said, giving her back the folder. “That’s your problem. You’re confusing yourself.”
“This is how I’ve always taken notes.” Scarlett didn’t know why she felt offended by that.
He shrugged. “Well, that’s your first problem.”
“Then tell me what I need to know.”
Caesar walked over to her and tugged on the straps of her bag until she let him take it from her. He opened it and pulled their history book out. He handed her back the bag and smiled. “You know it’s alright to be attracted to other people than the ones you’re dating, right?”
“I’m no--”
“It doesn’t matter though,” he said, cutting her off before sitting back down. “I wouldn’t do anything with you anyway. In the best cases, I’d rather not know who someone was fucking before me. You’re with King. There ain’t no way I’m putting my dick in anyone he has.”
Scarlett decided not to respond to that, both because of embarrassment and anger.
“Where’d the midterm leave off again? The Second Great Recession, right?” He changed subjects as if he hadn’t just insulted her. “Yeah, I remember now. This is where the final is probably going to start. So, Trump fucked us worse than Bush, right?”
Scarlett remained silent as he began to point out his method for remembering important dates in history.
Caesar lay in his bed staring up at the ceiling. The room was dark outside of the light coming from the windows. He could hear his phone vibrating every few seconds on the night stand. There was a party somewhere that someone wanted him to turn up at, he was sure.
He ran his hand over his face and swung his feet out of the bed so that he was sitting. He put his face in his hands and took a few deep breaths.
Walking across the room, he dug into the pockets of the various pairs of pants he’d worn throughout the week – yet to have been taken away by the housekeeper. He pulled an empty ziploc bag out of a pocket, the pills that had once been inside long gone.
“Fuck!” he shouted, jumping over the bed and grabbing the still vibrating phone from the nightstand, turning and throwing it out of the window. A jagged hole in the glass showed where the phone had gone through.
He picked up the only other thing on the night stand, his state championship ring, and threw that out of the window through the hole he’d just made with the phone.
Running his hands over his face and through his hair, he paced briefly around the room.
Then panic struck him.
He tore out of the room and ran down the hall. He bounded down the stairs, two and three at a time. He yanked the backdoor open and darted out into the yard, ignoring that he wasn’t wearing shoes.
He fell to his hands and knees and began searching the grass, moving along frantically.
After a few minutes of looking, his fingers hit a hard object. He quickly snatched it up and held it up to his face so he could see in the dark of the night. Sighing with relief, he slipped the championship ring onto his finger before laying down in the grass and closing his eyes.
-*****-
Scarlett walked up the long driveway to the massive house that seemingly dwarfed the others nearby. She tightened her grip on her bag, feeling extremely out of place among Houma’s most glamorous homes and walking toward the most ornate – and probably most ostentatious – of them all. It felt like she was in a completely different city.
She raised her hand to knock on the door, but it swung open before she could. A man wearing an apron appeared on the other side of it. He gave her a disapproving once over.
“Putain de merde. The delivery said mid-day and you come at four. J’y crois pas!” he shouted; his words colored with his French accent. “Out, out! Give me the delivery and go!”
Scarlett looked around to see if anyone was behind her that the man may have been speaking to. “I’m not a delivery person I’m--”
“If you not bring delivery, you go. I speak to manager.” The man slammed the door shut.
Confused, Scarlett took her phone out to make sure that she had the right house when the door opened again. Caesar now stood where the man was. He dried his face with a towel that hung over bare shoulders. She glanced down and noticed he only wore a pair of gray sweatpants.
“Are you going to stand there or are you going to come in?” he asked. He moved out of the way before she answered.
“Sorry, thought I had the wrong house,” she said, stepping inside and making sure that she only looked up. “I think your dad thought that I was delivering something.”
“My dad? You mean, Pierre?”
“If that’s who was at the door just now.”
Caesar laughed as he shut the door behind her. “Pierre’s our personal chef. You want me to tell him to whip you up something?”
She paused, once again feeling like she was out of place. The pause must’ve been too long because Caesar snapped his fingers in front of her face.
“Is that a no?” he asked.
“No, I’m good. Thanks. Living room or kitchen?”
He laughed and turned toward a staircase, stepping onto the first step. “I’m not a 12-year-old boy being chaperoned by his mom, Scarlett, and I’m not going to try to fuck you just because you’re in my bedroom. Let’s get this over with, huh?”
Sighing, she followed him up the stairs. She tried to stop herself from gawking at the absurd show of wealth that every inch of the house seemed to be used for. She’d been in the homes of people who were considered extremely well off before, but everything paled in comparison to this.
Even Caesar’s bedroom was bigger than some people’s apartments. It seemed like it took up an entire side of the house. There was even a separate living space with a couch and two chairs. Caesar sat on the couch and tossed the towel on the floor carelessly.
“Let me see your notes. You might be taking down the wrong shit from the start,” he said, holding his hand out.
She reached in her bag and handed him a folder. He opened it and started looking through the pages.
He looked up at her after a few moments. “Sit down. I know you’ve been in a guy’s bedroom before. People told me you and Devin been together for years. This is small fries to what y’all probably get up to.”
Scarlett didn’t answer, but did sit in one of the chairs and placed her bag on her lap. She tried to look anywhere but at him.
“Can you put a shirt on?” she finally asked.
He didn’t look up from her notes. “Why? I’m comfortable like this.”
“Because I’m not.”
He made a show of sighing and shoving up from the couch. He walked behind her to another part of the room and came back with a shirt. Standing in front of her, he pulled it over his head. “Good now?”
“Yes, thank you,” she said, turning her head so she was looking at the wall until he’d sat back down.
“Your note taking sucks ass,” Caesar said, giving her back the folder. “That’s your problem. You’re confusing yourself.”
“This is how I’ve always taken notes.” Scarlett didn’t know why she felt offended by that.
He shrugged. “Well, that’s your first problem.”
“Then tell me what I need to know.”
Caesar walked over to her and tugged on the straps of her bag until she let him take it from her. He opened it and pulled their history book out. He handed her back the bag and smiled. “You know it’s alright to be attracted to other people than the ones you’re dating, right?”
“I’m no--”
“It doesn’t matter though,” he said, cutting her off before sitting back down. “I wouldn’t do anything with you anyway. In the best cases, I’d rather not know who someone was fucking before me. You’re with King. There ain’t no way I’m putting my dick in anyone he has.”
Scarlett decided not to respond to that, both because of embarrassment and anger.
“Where’d the midterm leave off again? The Second Great Recession, right?” He changed subjects as if he hadn’t just insulted her. “Yeah, I remember now. This is where the final is probably going to start. So, Trump fucked us worse than Bush, right?”
Scarlett remained silent as he began to point out his method for remembering important dates in history.
-
Captain Canada
- Posts: 2208
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
War of the Roses: Redux Edition
And her relationship with Devin is now over.
War of the Roses: Redux Edition
Spring Surprises
Hasan and Devin walked toward the field house, duffel bags on their shoulders. Only feet away, spectators had begun to fill Thomas B. Stadium for the Tigers’ spring game. Despite there still being almost an hour until kickoff, the crowd was already larger than any he’d seen for actual games he’d played in – outside of last year’s Vandebilt game.
“Look at these bitches,” Hasan said, pointing to the field.
Ron and Caesar had already donned their jerseys and pads. Caesar was running the cleanest routes the two of them had seen during spring practice and Ron was effortlessly hitting him with near perfect passes.
“What the fuck are they doing?”
“Showing off for scouts. Trying to get a check mark in the ‘work ethic’ box.”
Devin glanced at the crowd even though he couldn’t make out anyone from distance. “You really think there are scouts here?”
“You think they would be doing that if there weren’t?” Hasan didn’t wait for Devin to respond as he opened the door to the locker room and the din of the rest of the team getting ready for the game.
…
“Remember we’re live tonight, but don’t be going out there trying to hurt each other. I’d like to make it to the fall without having us injuring each other,” Coach Hill said to the team before they took the field. “Ones on offense and twos on defense will be on the visitors’ sideline with Coach Thomas. I’ll have the offense’s twos and the defense’s ones with me on the home sideline. Any questions?”
When there was no response, Coach Hill nodded.
“Let’s get to work then.”
..
“This is a first for us here at the Bayou Sports podcast. We’re coming to you live from Terrebonne’s spring game. You’re likely asking yourselves, why are we at a spring game when we’ve never really got into too much discussion about this before? It’s easy, right, Jeff?”
“Right. This ain’t ya mawmaw’s spring game. There’s a lot of buzz around this team to see if they can co-exist in the field given the circumstances of how they came together in the first place.”
“And we’re already seeing some changes. Number eleven, Hasan Santiago, is a new guy on the Terrebonne roster and he’s out there with the first team offense over Britton Cazayoux and Shawntoine Jackson.”
…
Ron stepped back from under the center and turned to either side of the offense, shouting, “Honda! Honda! Honda!”
He got back under the center and snapped the ball. Turning, he pitched it to Hasan on the toss.
…
“Santiago plants his foot and makes a man miss. Whoa! And another man misses. And another man. And he’s spun down after an exciting 15 yard run.”
“Bo, he got better moves than me.”
…
“Santiago gets another carry. There’s nowhere for him to go. He reverses the field and somehow slips up field! Gain of 10. I’m just going to remind everyone that Terrebonne has their first team defense out on the field.”
…
“DeRossi on the rollout and he fires one into Jenkins for another big gain. That was some really impressive arm strength from an awkward platform.”
…
“Touchdown Red Team! Ron DeRossi hits Marcus Schexnayder for the touchdown.”
…
Caesar approached Ron as they walked off the field following the “possession.” He was open in the endzone, but Ron opted to pass it to another receiver.
“I was fucking open!” he shouted at the quarterback. “You only got me the ball once on that drive, bro. What the fuck?”
Ron glanced up at the crowd then back at his friend. “I’m not going to force the ball into you just because you want it. I’m still trying to get a scholarship and a starting spot, too, you know.”
“Pass me the fucking ball, Ron.” Caesar shoved him as he stalked over to where the rest of the receivers were being given instructions for the next drive.
…
“Jenkins takes the screen pass for 11 yards.”
…
“DeRossi hits Jenkins on the slant for 7 yards.”
…
“DeRossi finds his favorite target again for a short gain of 5.”
…
“DeRossi back for another pass. Rolls out of the pocket. Fakes and fires the ball all the way across the field to a wide open Noah John. The safeties both bit on the fake to Jenkins and John waltzed into the endzone.”
“Mais, I don’t think Terrebonne ever had a quarterback this good.”
…
Devin hung his head as he trudged to the sideline. The first teams were getting to the final portions of their time on the field and it had largely been the Ron DeRossi show. It seemed like the quarterback was in the defensive huddle listening in and anticipating any audibles the defense made.
He’d admit that he had forgotten how good Ron was.
But he was going to make at least one play before the spring game was over.
…
“Santiago takes the handoff and cuts to the outside. He makes a man miss. Devin King in to make the tackle. Wait! The ball’s loose! Gold recovers! Santiago might’ve gotten a little lax with his ball security and King made him pay.”
…
Hasan smacked Devin on the shoulder as the two of the headed to the parking lot following the game. He wore a huge smile on his face and seemed to be bouncing instead of walking.
“You fucked up a great game for me, man. But respect for makin’ me fumble. You must be from Florida or somethin’.” Hasan laughed, hiking his duffel bag up on his shoulder.
“Your fault for holding the ball like that.” Devin shrugged. “Ron diced us up. It’s going to be a long season if that’s how we’re going to play.”
Hasan shook his head. “That’s an anomaly, man.”
“Anomaly?”
“Yes, nigga. Anomaly. I got ACT words, too. That motherfucker goin’ to be playin’ for a Power 5 school. We ain’t facin’ too many Power 5 quarterbacks and for damn sure not in Louisiana. And you ain’t goin’ to fight me on the fact there ain’t good quarterbacks out here.”
Devin shrugged again to concede the point. If one were to go by recruiting grades, there was indeed a large drop off from Ron to the next group of Louisiana quarterbacks. Although, Devin did think some of the others need the top were pretty good as well.
When they reached Devin’s car, Devin noticed a business card taped to the windshield.
“You got strippers lookin’ for you?” Hasan laughed.
Devin pulled the card off. He read the face of it. “Hm. Looks like it’s from UCF.” He turned it over where ‘Give me a call, kid’ was written on the back.
“UCF? That boy bigtime now! Goin’ to be bringin’ his girl to Disneyland!” Hasan knocked on the door. “Unlock it.”
Devin stuffed the card in his pocket and hit the fob to unlock the doors.
…
Caesar shoved Ron away as the older boy tried to put him in a headlock. Ron chuckled and gathered his balance before catching up to walk alongside his friend.
“C’mon man. You’re not going to pretend that you’re actually mad at me all day, are you? You’re pouting like I didn’t throw you the ball at all. Maybe you shouldn’t have let Devin jam you up so much and I would’ve been able to find you more often.”
“You must be blind if you think Devin King was jamming me at the line. I should’ve dropped the few passes you did send my way. Make your stats look worse.”
Ron laughed. “You’re too fucking arrogant for that. And Deion would break his foot off in your ass if you had a game with a number higher than zero in the drop column.”
Caesar ignored the insult. “Saw you talking to some guys in military shit. Abandoning your football career to join the army when you graduate?”
“Nah,” Ron said, shaking his head. “They were talking to me about going to play for West Point, which I guess would be abandoning my football career to join the army. I have the grades and the recs since my dad knows some people and shit.”
“Let’s not pretend you’re going play football at West Point. They still aren’t aware that you can actually throw the ball.”
“I don’t know, man. It’s something to think about.”
Caesar shook his head. “You must’ve fell and hit your head in the locker room. You aren’t even fast enough to be the quarterback in the triple option.”
“Maybe.” Run shrugged. “So, remember those twins I met?”
“Yeah?”
“They’re coming over.”
“Which one do I get?”
“Does it matter? They’re twins.” Ron laughed.
Hasan and Devin walked toward the field house, duffel bags on their shoulders. Only feet away, spectators had begun to fill Thomas B. Stadium for the Tigers’ spring game. Despite there still being almost an hour until kickoff, the crowd was already larger than any he’d seen for actual games he’d played in – outside of last year’s Vandebilt game.
“Look at these bitches,” Hasan said, pointing to the field.
Ron and Caesar had already donned their jerseys and pads. Caesar was running the cleanest routes the two of them had seen during spring practice and Ron was effortlessly hitting him with near perfect passes.
“What the fuck are they doing?”
“Showing off for scouts. Trying to get a check mark in the ‘work ethic’ box.”
Devin glanced at the crowd even though he couldn’t make out anyone from distance. “You really think there are scouts here?”
“You think they would be doing that if there weren’t?” Hasan didn’t wait for Devin to respond as he opened the door to the locker room and the din of the rest of the team getting ready for the game.
…
“Remember we’re live tonight, but don’t be going out there trying to hurt each other. I’d like to make it to the fall without having us injuring each other,” Coach Hill said to the team before they took the field. “Ones on offense and twos on defense will be on the visitors’ sideline with Coach Thomas. I’ll have the offense’s twos and the defense’s ones with me on the home sideline. Any questions?”
When there was no response, Coach Hill nodded.
“Let’s get to work then.”
..
“This is a first for us here at the Bayou Sports podcast. We’re coming to you live from Terrebonne’s spring game. You’re likely asking yourselves, why are we at a spring game when we’ve never really got into too much discussion about this before? It’s easy, right, Jeff?”
“Right. This ain’t ya mawmaw’s spring game. There’s a lot of buzz around this team to see if they can co-exist in the field given the circumstances of how they came together in the first place.”
“And we’re already seeing some changes. Number eleven, Hasan Santiago, is a new guy on the Terrebonne roster and he’s out there with the first team offense over Britton Cazayoux and Shawntoine Jackson.”
…
Ron stepped back from under the center and turned to either side of the offense, shouting, “Honda! Honda! Honda!”
He got back under the center and snapped the ball. Turning, he pitched it to Hasan on the toss.
…
“Santiago plants his foot and makes a man miss. Whoa! And another man misses. And another man. And he’s spun down after an exciting 15 yard run.”
“Bo, he got better moves than me.”
…
“Santiago gets another carry. There’s nowhere for him to go. He reverses the field and somehow slips up field! Gain of 10. I’m just going to remind everyone that Terrebonne has their first team defense out on the field.”
…
“DeRossi on the rollout and he fires one into Jenkins for another big gain. That was some really impressive arm strength from an awkward platform.”
…
“Touchdown Red Team! Ron DeRossi hits Marcus Schexnayder for the touchdown.”
…
Caesar approached Ron as they walked off the field following the “possession.” He was open in the endzone, but Ron opted to pass it to another receiver.
“I was fucking open!” he shouted at the quarterback. “You only got me the ball once on that drive, bro. What the fuck?”
Ron glanced up at the crowd then back at his friend. “I’m not going to force the ball into you just because you want it. I’m still trying to get a scholarship and a starting spot, too, you know.”
“Pass me the fucking ball, Ron.” Caesar shoved him as he stalked over to where the rest of the receivers were being given instructions for the next drive.
…
“Jenkins takes the screen pass for 11 yards.”
…
“DeRossi hits Jenkins on the slant for 7 yards.”
…
“DeRossi finds his favorite target again for a short gain of 5.”
…
“DeRossi back for another pass. Rolls out of the pocket. Fakes and fires the ball all the way across the field to a wide open Noah John. The safeties both bit on the fake to Jenkins and John waltzed into the endzone.”
“Mais, I don’t think Terrebonne ever had a quarterback this good.”
…
Devin hung his head as he trudged to the sideline. The first teams were getting to the final portions of their time on the field and it had largely been the Ron DeRossi show. It seemed like the quarterback was in the defensive huddle listening in and anticipating any audibles the defense made.
He’d admit that he had forgotten how good Ron was.
But he was going to make at least one play before the spring game was over.
…
“Santiago takes the handoff and cuts to the outside. He makes a man miss. Devin King in to make the tackle. Wait! The ball’s loose! Gold recovers! Santiago might’ve gotten a little lax with his ball security and King made him pay.”
…
Hasan smacked Devin on the shoulder as the two of the headed to the parking lot following the game. He wore a huge smile on his face and seemed to be bouncing instead of walking.
“You fucked up a great game for me, man. But respect for makin’ me fumble. You must be from Florida or somethin’.” Hasan laughed, hiking his duffel bag up on his shoulder.
“Your fault for holding the ball like that.” Devin shrugged. “Ron diced us up. It’s going to be a long season if that’s how we’re going to play.”
Hasan shook his head. “That’s an anomaly, man.”
“Anomaly?”
“Yes, nigga. Anomaly. I got ACT words, too. That motherfucker goin’ to be playin’ for a Power 5 school. We ain’t facin’ too many Power 5 quarterbacks and for damn sure not in Louisiana. And you ain’t goin’ to fight me on the fact there ain’t good quarterbacks out here.”
Devin shrugged again to concede the point. If one were to go by recruiting grades, there was indeed a large drop off from Ron to the next group of Louisiana quarterbacks. Although, Devin did think some of the others need the top were pretty good as well.
When they reached Devin’s car, Devin noticed a business card taped to the windshield.
“You got strippers lookin’ for you?” Hasan laughed.
Devin pulled the card off. He read the face of it. “Hm. Looks like it’s from UCF.” He turned it over where ‘Give me a call, kid’ was written on the back.
“UCF? That boy bigtime now! Goin’ to be bringin’ his girl to Disneyland!” Hasan knocked on the door. “Unlock it.”
Devin stuffed the card in his pocket and hit the fob to unlock the doors.
…
Caesar shoved Ron away as the older boy tried to put him in a headlock. Ron chuckled and gathered his balance before catching up to walk alongside his friend.
“C’mon man. You’re not going to pretend that you’re actually mad at me all day, are you? You’re pouting like I didn’t throw you the ball at all. Maybe you shouldn’t have let Devin jam you up so much and I would’ve been able to find you more often.”
“You must be blind if you think Devin King was jamming me at the line. I should’ve dropped the few passes you did send my way. Make your stats look worse.”
Ron laughed. “You’re too fucking arrogant for that. And Deion would break his foot off in your ass if you had a game with a number higher than zero in the drop column.”
Caesar ignored the insult. “Saw you talking to some guys in military shit. Abandoning your football career to join the army when you graduate?”
“Nah,” Ron said, shaking his head. “They were talking to me about going to play for West Point, which I guess would be abandoning my football career to join the army. I have the grades and the recs since my dad knows some people and shit.”
“Let’s not pretend you’re going play football at West Point. They still aren’t aware that you can actually throw the ball.”
“I don’t know, man. It’s something to think about.”
Caesar shook his head. “You must’ve fell and hit your head in the locker room. You aren’t even fast enough to be the quarterback in the triple option.”
“Maybe.” Run shrugged. “So, remember those twins I met?”
“Yeah?”
“They’re coming over.”
“Which one do I get?”
“Does it matter? They’re twins.” Ron laughed.
-
Captain Canada
- Posts: 2208
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
War of the Roses: Redux Edition
Chinks in Caesar's armor becoming wider and wider. Definitely Team Devin.