Grown Man Football
As he lined up across from a diminutive cornerback, donning Vanderbilt’s trademark black and gold, Caesar listened to the crowd’s chants of “cheater” interspersed with a chorus of booing. If it were in a bigger stadium with a more pronounced homefield advantage, they might actually have had a shot at throwing Tulane off as they settled in for the first snap from scrimmage of the game.
Caesar glanced at the safeties as they shifted to a single high look. He immediately looked back inside to Darren who gestured for him to change his route as he continued to make the necessary pre-snap adjustments.
The cornerback shifted his alignment and took a few steps back away from the line of scrimmage.
Darren called to the snap.
Caesar burst off the line with the corner looking to force him to the inside. Stabbing his left foot into the turf, he faked a cut. The cornerback bit on the fake, jumping the route. That allowed Caesar to get to the outside and he immediately threw his hand up for the ball.
Darren obliged him as he stepped and lofted a pass down the sideline that fell perfectly over Caesar’s shoulder.
The big gain would turn into a bigger one as the safety sprinted to cut off Caesar’s angle, but only found air as he dove at Caesar’s ankles. From there, it was a foot race and Caesar wasn’t going to lose it as he ran into the endzone.
He put his finger to his lips, shushing the crowd as he shuffled sideways, before turning around the celebrate with his teammates.
…
“And he’s back like he never left, ladies and gentlemen! Caesar Jenkins takes the first pass of the game 73 yards for a touchdown and the Green Wave are up early after a big play from their big play receiver on the outside.”
“You can see the kind of attention he commands when a player bites on a fake like Theron Keen does here. Once he does that, it was over for the Commodores’ defense. But I tell you what, I bet they don’t run too many more single high safety looks today!”
…
“Quentin Fleck throws that one well off after being hurried in the backfield by Mario Miles.”
…
“Another misfire from Fleck and that’ll bring up 3rd and 10.”
…
“Barrett is brought down in the backfield and that’s going to see Vanderbilt forced to punt on their opening drive."
...
“Reyes hands it off to Frazier and he can scoot! Fifteen on the play before being pushed out of bounds.”
…
“Nigel Conrad gets in on the action with a reception for 10 yards.”
…
“Jenkins makes the catch and moves the chains. Gain of 11.”
…
“Jericho Armstrong gets into the backfield and flushes Reyes out but he flips it to Dallas over the middle for a gain of 5. Reyes is rushing the Green Wave back to the line, going with some tempo! He snaps it quickly and calls his own number! Another big gain of 17 before he slides down!”
“The Commodores might need a timeout to settle down after that because they’re looking flustered out there already.”
…
“Frazier powers it over the line and that’s a touchdown for the Green Wave!”
…
Devin swung his arm under the receiver’s ripping through his attempt to block him at the line of scrimmage. He kept a hold of Devin’s jersey for a few seconds before Devin was able to use his momentum to toss him aside.
The back got caught up on the pulling guard as he tried to make it to the outside with olive jerseys crashing down to meet the play.
Devin closed the distance preparing to make an attempt at the tackle. Before he could, Mario dove at the running back’s legs and tripped him up, allowing Devin to simply come in and shove the ball carrier over for an easy stop in the backfield.
He helped the big defensive end up to his feet and smacked him on the top of his helmet in thanks for making the tackle easier.
…
“That’s going to bring up third and five. Vanderbilt needs to convert here to get into the redzone and have a shot at stemming some of this Tulane momentum with a touchdown. Fleck’s in the shotgun…”
…
Devin got some depth as he dropped back into his zone assignment, giving the receiver a bit of a shove to throw off the timing of his route as he ran in front of him. Vandy’s quarterback was almost immediately under pressure as Blair ran straight through the A gap on a blitz.
The quarterback dumped it off the tight end just as he was getting hit.
Devin broke toward the play. Wrapping his arms around the tight end’s waist, he used his momentum to spin him to the ground just short of the first down marker.
…
“Back to back stops by Devin King and the Commodores are going to have to attempt a long field goal here!”
…
“It’s up and it squeaks inside the uprights. Vanderbilt is on the board. Tulane 14, Commodores 3.”
…
“That’s another catch for Caesar Jenkins…”
…
“Thibodeaux fights for the first down…”
…
“…Greer hauls it in on the post and that’s going to be a touchdown for the Green Wave!”
…
“Kerby Greer with the big hit in the backfield!”
…
“Batted down by Vaughn.”
…
“Volken makes the play despite being held by a pair of Vandy receivers!”
…
“Huge gain from Frazier…”
…
“Reyes flips it out to Jenkins for a short pickup…”
…
“Stanson brings it in and Tulane is moving the ball at will!”
…
“Frazier is brought down after a short gain of 2, but the Green Wave are inside the 10 and that’ll be a first down!”
…
Darren lifted his foot and motioned for Caesar to shift to the opposite side of the formation. As he did, both the corner and one of the safeties followed him.
Once he was set, the safety came all the way up to the line of scrimmage alongside the corner who was also set to press him at the line. It looked more like something you’d see on a punt than on a first and goal.
Caesar caught Darren’s attention and pointed up, but the quarterback shook his head and continued to make his pre-snap adjustments. Caesar repeated the gesture as Darren stepped back from the line, but he didn’t make any indication back the second time.
The junior clapped twice and called for the snap.
Caesar shuffled to the left and then burst to the right, getting to the outside of the corner. He positioned his body between the two players and the shrinking corner of the endzone.
Darren was flushed out of the pocket but didn’t have anywhere to run. Falling back just as he was getting hit, he threw the ball in Caesar’s direction.
Caesar leapt into the air – as did the two defensive backs – and threw an arm back to catch the ball. Contorting his body in the air, he tapped the heels of both feet in the tiniest shreds of colored turf before falling out of bounds.
…
“Oh! My! Days! That’s going to be reviewed but that’s a catch of the year contender if there ever was one!”
“Get off me, youngster! That’s a grown man out there! A lot of people say that Caesar Jenkins is the closest thing we’ve had to Calvin Johnson since Johnson retired and if that’s the kind of thing he can do then I think he deserves that comparison!”
“And the review confirms it! Touchdown Tulane! Wow!”
…
“Picked off! Fleck threw it deep and that might be termed an arm punt as Marcus Freebird catches it!”
…
“…first down, Green Wave.”
…
“…first down, Green Wave.”
…
“…first down, Green Wave. There’s some pushing and shoving down there. The referees might want to get a handle on this before it gets out of hand.”
“Caesar Jenkins made that catch. That’s one of the things you get from with this kid. Let’s just say he divides opinion on the field.”
…
“Reyes takes it himself and Tulane is running riot! Touchdown! It’s going to be 35-3 heading into the half.”
…
“Vandy actually moving the ball here on the opening drive of the third quarter. First down after a 5 yard gain by Barrett.”
…
“The Commodores can’t catch a break as that holding penalty will kill their momentum.”
…
“Alvarez makes the stop and Vanderbilt will be facing another long third down attempt!”
…
Devin shoved his hands into the receiver’s chest as he tried to get of the line of scrimmage. The two of them fought for position as the wideout tried to get free.
He managed to get Devin’s arms outside of his body and immediately cut to the inside, his eyes darting into the backfield.
Devin stumbled as his feet got tangled with the receiver’s, gaining his opponent a step on him and he could only watch as the quarterback opted for the quick pass over the middle. The receiver made De’Anthony miss and turned up field but slowed down as his blockers got in front of him.
Putting his head down, Devin ran full speed toward the receiver and swung his fist down over his shoulder to punch at the ball. With a loose grip on the ball, the receiver lost it and the ball hit the turf.
A pile of Green Wave defenders were the first to react to the ball before the Vandy offensive linemen jumped into the scrum. Devin made the business decision to stay out of it as the bigger players fought for the ball under the mess of bodies.
The referees took some time detangling everyone before Kendrick crawled out from the bottom of everyone, jumped to his feet and took off toward the Tulane sideline with the ball held over his head.
…
“Big play from the freshman corner Devin King to force the ball out and it’s Green Wave ball!”
“Mark, this Tulane squad has playmakers all over the field on both sides of the ball and that’s another example of that right there.”
…
“Vanderbilt actually makes a stop and Tulane will punt for the first time today.”
…
“The Commodores bog down in the redzone and will settle for the field goal. Aguayo to kick. It’s up and it’s good. 35-6.”
…
“He’s wide open! Caesar Jenkins walks in for the 24 yard touchdown reception and that’s surely the dagger as he stares down the crowd! The Commodores aren’t happy with themselves for allowing that touchdown!”
“You don’t want to see your secondary getting lost against any receiver, but when you’re losing a guy who already had two touchdowns today, it’s not a good look.”
“I don’t know if you all noticed this at home, but the Green Wave’s backup quarterback Michael Hammond was warming up that entire drive. It looks like Denver Shuman is calling off the dogs and sending in his backups.”
“There is still time left in the third quarter.”
“You’d almost be forgiven for forgetting that this Vanderbilt team beat Tulane’s hated in-state rivals LSU earlier this year.”
“Well, let’s remember LSU has only won 3 games this year so far. That’s not a vintage Tigers team.”
…
Caesar walked toward the locker room, ignoring the handful of Vanderbilt players who passed by him and attempted to shake his hand after the game – one in which the Commodores suffered a 54-6 beating that saw the second teamers get a full quarter of run and actually put points on the board against SEC opposition.
A woman wearing press credentials and tailed by a cameraman ran over to him, stopping him for an interview.
Much to the woman’s visible chagrin, an SID appeared out of nowhere and stood beside Caesar.
“Caesar, how does it feel to get back out onto the field after missing a few games? It looks like you didn’t miss a beat from how well you were playing earlier this season?” the reporter asked.
“They couldn’t figure out how to beat me on the field so they decided that they would come up with some shit that I was somehow cheating. All I gotta say is that it’s going to be a long day for whoever we gotta play.”
“12 receptions for 194 yards and 3 touchdowns. Do you think that the Commodores maybe though you’d start slow after not practicing for the better part of a month?”
Caesar shrugged. “I think their coach needs to think about pulling some scholarships.”
The SID leaned into the conversation, holding up one finger to indicate they only had more question to ask.
“Next week, you all travel to Alabama for a primetime game against the Crimson Tide. Shad Rawlings is one of the best corners in the nation and a Thorpe contender. Do you think that you can replicate this performance against a top defender like Shad Rawlings?”
“I hope he plans on wearing his nice panties if he’s going to let himself get fuc—”
The SID quickly stepped between Caesar and the reporter and shepherded him away before he could finish that line.
“I don’t think we’re going to be able to use that,” the cameraman said.
“My ass I’m not,” the woman said before turning to scan the field to grab another player for an interview before the post-game press gaggles formed around them.
War of the Roses: Redux Edition
-
Captain Canada
- Posts: 4972
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
War of the Roses: Redux Edition
This dude said nice panties 
War of the Roses: Redux Edition
You Wildin’, Youngster
Devin swung his car into an empty parking space outside of a diner that looked like it had seen better days thirty years ago. But there in the rural expanse of Louisiana’s “Saints” parishes along I-10 between Baton Rouge and New Orleans, small restaurants like the one before him had been open long before he was alive and would be open long after he was gone.
A couple of truckers held the door open for him as he stepped inside the building, plates of food in hand as they prepared to continue on their way to some other part of the country to transport goods. Devin nodded his thanks as he scanned the rows of cheap tables and chairs from a bygone era.
Hasan sat along the far wall, tearing into a plate of fried chicken. He had a leg in one hand and a fork in the other to scrap up what looks to be macaroni and cheese. He didn’t look up from the plate until Devin sat down across from him.
“You fucking that up, huh?” Devin asked. He reached out to grab the menu from under the plate and Hasan moved his arms to block the plate causing Devin to laugh. “Chill out, bruh. No one taking it from you. Do they not feed y’all in Baton Rouge?”
Hasan waved off the comment and took another bite from the chicken leg, talking with his mouth full. “They do, but not no shit like this. Someone auntie with the arm meat put her foot up in this shit. Seasoned, high cholesterol, clog your fuckin’ arteries good.”
“Arm meat?”
“You know what the fuck I mean. The fuckin’…” He trailed off while lifting his arm and swatting at the underside of his bicep.
As if the cosmos had decided to prove Hasan’s point, one of the restaurant’s employees walked over to the table. No one would’ve considered the older woman a waitress because the restaurant was nowhere near classy enough to have such positions. Cashier might have been a better title, but Devin didn’t feel that quite fit either.
Regardless, she was definitely a bigger woman and did have the “arm meat” that Hasan was referring to.
“You know what you want?” she asked Devin.
Devin gestured to Hasan’s plate. “Yeah, just give me whatever he got.”
The woman nodded and then pointed toward one corner of the dining area. “Drinks over there. Just get whatever you want.”
Devin nodded his thanks as she walked away.
“So how life with all them white people at Tulane treatin’ you, bruh? You decide to join one of them white power frats yet?” Hasan asked, laughing at his own joke. He changed the tone of his voice to one stereotypical of frat boys. “Dude, my dad totally said that I could take the Benz out to Floribama this year for spring break, dude.”
“Last I checked, LSU has more white students than Tulane does. I should be asking you if you’ve decided to become a knight of the Old South or whatever.”
Hasan put the chicken bone in his hand down, wiping his hand on a heavily greased napkin next to his plate. “I’d rather cut my fuckin’ dick off than kick it with those motherfuckas. Besides, unlike yo roommate, Erik a hood nigga lowkey. I done seen that man choose to eat untoasted bread and ham, drinkin’ tap water, when we got an apartment full of food. No mustard, no mayo, nothin’. Bread. Ham. Not exactly white frat types over in A-12.”
“That sounds like it would make me hungrier than I was before I started eating the sandwich,” Devin said.
“So, what’s up, man? Why you got me draggin’ my black ass out to these places I ain’t never been before like yo phone don’t text?”
“I can’t chill with a friend from way back? You letting the rivalry go to your head already?”
“What rivalry?” Hasan asked, laughing. “Tulane ain’t nobody rival. You gotta win somethin’ to be on our level, bruh. Y’all still claimin’ championships from the 90s that nobody agree with, but Boise State because they want to do the same shit.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Y’all even going to a bowl this year? We didn’t lose to Vanderbilt.”
“Now, see, you ain’t have to bring that up. That’s a low blow.”
Devin laughed and held up his hands in feigned defense. “My bad, but you’re the one over there saying there isn’t a rivalry.”
“Probably not this shit ass season anyway,” Hasan said, conceding the point that LSU was currently lower on the “what have you done for me lately” pole. “I ain’t even goin’ to lie to you, my nigga. I’m tired of losin’ every fuckin’ week.”
Devin nodded slowly, being able to relate to being a part of a team that was taking a few too many Ls for the players’ liking. After all, it was only a few years ago that Devin played for a Terrebonne team that was lucky to win two or three games a season. If they hadn’t won the lottery with the Vandebilt players, he probably wouldn’t be at Tulane from that alone.
The restaurant employee returned and slid the plate of chicken and mac and cheese in front of Devin. She also slapped a receipt on the table next to it before walking away without the usual food service courtesies of asking if he needed anything else.
“If we don’t make a bowl, on some real shit, I might enter the portal. It’s a lot of other niggas on the team thinkin’ the same shit so ain’t like I’m goin’ to be the only one,” Hasan said, getting the last bits of chicken off a breast. “Go back home to Florida or some shit, you know?”
“I don’t know about living in Florida, but if you want, you can just slide me y’all’s playbook and schemes and shit for the last week of the season and I can make sure y’all don’t make it to a bowl game.” Devin said, laughing as he tried a bit of the mac and cheese. It wasn’t as good as Hasan said, something he would chalk up to New Orleans having a better cooking scene than Baton Rouge.
“Shit, we might be ‘bout 3-8 by then so I ain’t even worried about y’all.”
“Speaking of transferring, how are you managing your NIL shit? You get an agent or something?”
Hasan shook his head as he wiped his fingers one last time and dropping the napkin on a plate of picked clean bones. “For what? I ain’t got no big deals like talkin’ about. I might’ve got a couple thousand dollars from posting some shit about a club up in Scotlandville. Few hundreds here or there. Bein’ a freshman running back at LSU when you got a whole stable of them niggas ain’t glamorous enough for that NIL money to roll in.”
“I got you. Thought you would’ve been up on one of these billboards all along I-10 by now. Seems like all the athletes at LSU on at least one. From football to golf.”
“Upperclassmen. Except the freshmen gymnastics hoes. Ever since that Livvy Dunne chick came through here back in the ‘20s, they be gassin’ the shit out of them. It’s highkey some pedophile shit if you ask me, but they ain’t askin’ me.”
“I guess it’s a good thing they aren’t asking you then. I don’t think there’s ever been a time in history when the quickest way to make a few dollars wasn’t with a little exposed, barely legal ass cheek,” Devin said before trying the chicken in front of him. Again, it didn’t taste as good as Hasan made it out to be but it’d do. “I asked because I’m just trying to get a feel of how other people are managing their shit. And dealing with all the people in your ear.”
“You got a bitch pregnant or somethin’, nigga?” Hasan asked, laughing. “Just say yes to everythin’ and take the money. Then go get a lawyer and fight that child support. But I know you had it in you to cheat on Carla ass. Unless y’all ain’t together no more.”
“No, I didn’t get anyone pregnant—”
“That you know of.”
“Chill out. I know. I’m still with Carla. Anyway, my grandpa always sending people to me talking about this deal or that deal. That shit is getting exhausting. Half the time, I’ve never even heard of the stuff these people are trying to sell.”
Hasan shrugged. “Your grandpa played ball when you got sentenced to life in prison if you signed a lil’ kid’s football or took a turkey sandwich from a booster. Of course, an OG like that is tryin’ to tell you to get as much money as possible.”
“Yeah, I guess. I don’t even have any big deals to be honest. I’m like you, just a few thousand here or there.”
“When you out here getting’ conference player of the week and shit? That’s why Big Devin in yo’ ear. You wildin’, youngster. He probably disappointed. You tried down, not swimmin’ in no pussy and you ain’t stackin’ no paper? Lord forgive him for he know not what he do.”
Devin could only shrug. The money athletes could get from NIL deals was obviously nice, but he didn’t want the added pressure.
“But since you brought it up earlier, lemme get some of y’all verbiage and shit before the game because y’all can afford to lose one. You niggas definitely ain’t winnin’ a natty,” Hasan said.
“At least we might be there. Y’all will be playing CFB ’53 to get there.”
“You lucky you my boy or I’d dive all cross the top of this table on your ass for how you talkin’ reckless.”
Devin laughed before starting to take care of the plate of chicken and mac and cheese on the table before it got cold.
“C’mon, man! Stop pausin’ the fuckin’ game!”
Caesar ignored Junie’s complaints as he set the controller down in his lap to pick up his phone and respond to a flurry of texts from a few different numbers.
Some of the guys decided to take advantage of their Monday off to head to Tyrone’s apartment and spend the afternoon playing the latest edition of Madden. Despite regular pauses to answer texts, Caesar had been on the sticks for the last six games and the 14-0 score on the screen for the game between him and Junie made it seem like he was going to get a seventh win in a row.
Kendall glanced over Caesar’s shoulder to get a glimpse at the texts and shook his head. “How you getting your ass beat by a dude who over here trying to get some pussy from a bunch of different bitches between throwing bombs on your garbage ass?”
“Didn’t you get skunked in the first quarter, my nigga?” Junie shot back as Caesar finally put his phone down and unpaused the game.
“It’s still the first quarter for you, too,” Caesar said, gesturing to the screen. “And I got the ball.”
“The moral of the story is that we shouldn’t have let a rich nigga get on the game because he probably spent all his childhood getting fed ‘whore deerves’ while wreckin’ probably on video games and shit,” Tyrone said, laughing.
“Or all of y’all got a worse understanding of the game of football than I do which is information that probably shouldn’t leave this room considering all of y’all are upperclassmen and I’m just a little old freshman.”
Caesar, playing with the Oklahoma City Outlaws as he was prone to do when playing Madden, pressed a button on his controller to make the virtual quarterback throw a pass deep down the field. He put the controller down to pick up his phone again as the virtual receiver caught the pass and the AI ran the player into the endzone.
“Say, bruh. You ain’t have to put the controller down before the play was over,” Junie said as he tossed his controller on the floor in front of him before getting up and being replaced in his chair by Tyrone. “All that stuntin’ uncalled for.”
“Don’t get mad over a game, bruh,” Tyrone said, laughing. “We all boys in here. Besides, I don’t know if you know how to squabble and the last thing we need is motherfuckers on the injury report because they got they ass beat over some Madden.”
“I can fight.”
Caesar stood up, handing the controller to Kendall before moving to sit on a sofa. “It’s not all that serious. You just keep running that cover 2 man under like it was 2003 in here. Could’ve at least sent a blitz or two.”
“Yo, T. I thought you saw Darren was coming through? Bro think he too good to kick it with us or something?” Kendall asked as he sat in the chair next to Tyrone and the two of them started scrolling through the teams to pick who they would use.
“I ain’t say that. I said he said he might. I think him and Ramona decided they were go on one of them married couple dates they do every so often. That’s my brother from another mother, but he more pussy whipped than a motherfucker.”
“Just like Caesar then,” Junie said, laughing at his own joke.
“You really mad about getting skunked, huh?” Caesar asked, not looking up from his phone. “It’s okay, man. No one’s going to clown you because you got beat on Madden. Just let that shit go and free your mind. Besides, not a single bitch got me pussy whipped. I’m a free agent.”
“Nigga gonna catch that shit messing with all them white bitches,” Kendall said, nudging Tyrone with his elbow causing them both to laugh.
Shaking his head, Caesar put his phone down on the sofa and got up to head for the door.
“Bro, I know you not leavin’ because we fuckin’ with you,” Tyrone said over his shoulder. “We know you rich enough to have them miracle drugs that keep your dick from turnin’ green and fallin’ off. But while you up, get me somethin’ to drink out the kitchen.”
Caesar ignored them and opened the door, stepping aside to allow a girl to step inside the apartment. She wore a Tulane track hoodie and a pair of joggers. She lowered a pair of headphones from her ears and rested them around her neck.
She looked around Caesar to see the other three guys in the living room.
“You ain’t say it’d be a gang of niggas in here,” she said.
“I didn’t say this was my apartment either and you still came. So, you getting shy on me now?”
“Don’t play with me. Where we going?”
He called Tyrone’s name to get his attention as they’d started the game, and the trash talk was already flowing between Tyrone and Kendall before the game had even loaded up the opening kick off.
“Hey, you still got that empty room back there, right?”
“Yeah, for what?” Tyrone asked back without looking over his shoulder.
“Alright, we’ll be back there,” Caesar said as he waved for the girl to follow him.
Tyrone glanced over his shoulder. “We?”
Junie and Kendall turned around as well, just as Caesar and his guest disappeared down the hall. The three of them looked at one another with a confused look on their faces.
“Wasn’t that fucking Tyesha?” Kendall asked.
“I thought she ain’t fuck dudes,” Junie said.
“Apparently she does,” Tyrone said, shrugging before turning back to the game.
…
An hour later, Caesar and Tyesha emerged from the room and walked into the living area. Kendall had left and had been replaced by Kerby and Darren. They along with Junie and Tyrone were in a heated discussion about a rapper’s new album and whether it was on the level of Drake’s later catalog.
“Don’t be telling me to come to no other motherfucker house no more,” Tyesha said to Caesar as the two of them walked to the door. A little bit of humor could be heard in her words.
“That’s cool. Next time, I’ll just come to your place. How about that?”
“I don’t like no white boys in my apartment,” she said, sucking her teeth.
“Didn’t hear anything about me lacking melanin a minute ago.”
She rolled her eyes. “Bye, Caesar.”
She left the apartment and Caesar went to see on the sofa next to Darren where he’d left his phone. The group stopped talking as he did. He picked it up his phone and started to answer some texts he missed.
“Yo, I thought Tyesha was a lesbian?” Darren asked Tyrone, gesturing with his thumb toward the door. “I swore she used to fuck with that chick Raquel on the basketball team.”
“That’s the same shit I see!” Junie shouted.
“They were probably back there exchangin’ tips on how to eat pussy,” Kerby said.
Caesar shrugged. “If she’s a lesbian then she hasn’t always been one, because she gives some fire ass head.”
“That boy sick,” Tyrone said, laughing.
“Darren, you drove over here?” Caesar asked, putting his phone in his pocket and standing up.”
“Yeah, why?”
“Can you bring me to the Tri Delta’s house? I’m not trying to walk all the way across campus to get my car and drive myself.”
“Nigga, didn’t you just get some pussy?” Tyrone asked. “Like not even just as in earlier today, likely literally just pulled your dick out of some chick? Dick probably still smell like nut and pussy.”
Caesar raised an eyebrow, not expecting Tyrone to be the one to be the voice of reason as that task usually fell to Darren. He shook his head and ignored the question, turning back to Darren.
“So, can you bring me?”
Darren shrugged and sighed before pushing himself to his feet. “You’re going to owe me charging money because I’m not an Uber for any other than me to be going get any pussy.”
“I got you,” Caesar said, taking his phone out of his pocket and quickly sending $50 to Darren for the cost of charging his car – much more than the ten minute trip would cost.
“You gonna be tired as a bitch doin’ all that fuckin’, bruh. Don’t forget that we playin’ Bama this week. We blamin’ you and your dick if we lose,” Tyrone said as Darren and Caesar left the apartment.
Devin swung his car into an empty parking space outside of a diner that looked like it had seen better days thirty years ago. But there in the rural expanse of Louisiana’s “Saints” parishes along I-10 between Baton Rouge and New Orleans, small restaurants like the one before him had been open long before he was alive and would be open long after he was gone.
A couple of truckers held the door open for him as he stepped inside the building, plates of food in hand as they prepared to continue on their way to some other part of the country to transport goods. Devin nodded his thanks as he scanned the rows of cheap tables and chairs from a bygone era.
Hasan sat along the far wall, tearing into a plate of fried chicken. He had a leg in one hand and a fork in the other to scrap up what looks to be macaroni and cheese. He didn’t look up from the plate until Devin sat down across from him.
“You fucking that up, huh?” Devin asked. He reached out to grab the menu from under the plate and Hasan moved his arms to block the plate causing Devin to laugh. “Chill out, bruh. No one taking it from you. Do they not feed y’all in Baton Rouge?”
Hasan waved off the comment and took another bite from the chicken leg, talking with his mouth full. “They do, but not no shit like this. Someone auntie with the arm meat put her foot up in this shit. Seasoned, high cholesterol, clog your fuckin’ arteries good.”
“Arm meat?”
“You know what the fuck I mean. The fuckin’…” He trailed off while lifting his arm and swatting at the underside of his bicep.
As if the cosmos had decided to prove Hasan’s point, one of the restaurant’s employees walked over to the table. No one would’ve considered the older woman a waitress because the restaurant was nowhere near classy enough to have such positions. Cashier might have been a better title, but Devin didn’t feel that quite fit either.
Regardless, she was definitely a bigger woman and did have the “arm meat” that Hasan was referring to.
“You know what you want?” she asked Devin.
Devin gestured to Hasan’s plate. “Yeah, just give me whatever he got.”
The woman nodded and then pointed toward one corner of the dining area. “Drinks over there. Just get whatever you want.”
Devin nodded his thanks as she walked away.
“So how life with all them white people at Tulane treatin’ you, bruh? You decide to join one of them white power frats yet?” Hasan asked, laughing at his own joke. He changed the tone of his voice to one stereotypical of frat boys. “Dude, my dad totally said that I could take the Benz out to Floribama this year for spring break, dude.”
“Last I checked, LSU has more white students than Tulane does. I should be asking you if you’ve decided to become a knight of the Old South or whatever.”
Hasan put the chicken bone in his hand down, wiping his hand on a heavily greased napkin next to his plate. “I’d rather cut my fuckin’ dick off than kick it with those motherfuckas. Besides, unlike yo roommate, Erik a hood nigga lowkey. I done seen that man choose to eat untoasted bread and ham, drinkin’ tap water, when we got an apartment full of food. No mustard, no mayo, nothin’. Bread. Ham. Not exactly white frat types over in A-12.”
“That sounds like it would make me hungrier than I was before I started eating the sandwich,” Devin said.
“So, what’s up, man? Why you got me draggin’ my black ass out to these places I ain’t never been before like yo phone don’t text?”
“I can’t chill with a friend from way back? You letting the rivalry go to your head already?”
“What rivalry?” Hasan asked, laughing. “Tulane ain’t nobody rival. You gotta win somethin’ to be on our level, bruh. Y’all still claimin’ championships from the 90s that nobody agree with, but Boise State because they want to do the same shit.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Y’all even going to a bowl this year? We didn’t lose to Vanderbilt.”
“Now, see, you ain’t have to bring that up. That’s a low blow.”
Devin laughed and held up his hands in feigned defense. “My bad, but you’re the one over there saying there isn’t a rivalry.”
“Probably not this shit ass season anyway,” Hasan said, conceding the point that LSU was currently lower on the “what have you done for me lately” pole. “I ain’t even goin’ to lie to you, my nigga. I’m tired of losin’ every fuckin’ week.”
Devin nodded slowly, being able to relate to being a part of a team that was taking a few too many Ls for the players’ liking. After all, it was only a few years ago that Devin played for a Terrebonne team that was lucky to win two or three games a season. If they hadn’t won the lottery with the Vandebilt players, he probably wouldn’t be at Tulane from that alone.
The restaurant employee returned and slid the plate of chicken and mac and cheese in front of Devin. She also slapped a receipt on the table next to it before walking away without the usual food service courtesies of asking if he needed anything else.
“If we don’t make a bowl, on some real shit, I might enter the portal. It’s a lot of other niggas on the team thinkin’ the same shit so ain’t like I’m goin’ to be the only one,” Hasan said, getting the last bits of chicken off a breast. “Go back home to Florida or some shit, you know?”
“I don’t know about living in Florida, but if you want, you can just slide me y’all’s playbook and schemes and shit for the last week of the season and I can make sure y’all don’t make it to a bowl game.” Devin said, laughing as he tried a bit of the mac and cheese. It wasn’t as good as Hasan said, something he would chalk up to New Orleans having a better cooking scene than Baton Rouge.
“Shit, we might be ‘bout 3-8 by then so I ain’t even worried about y’all.”
“Speaking of transferring, how are you managing your NIL shit? You get an agent or something?”
Hasan shook his head as he wiped his fingers one last time and dropping the napkin on a plate of picked clean bones. “For what? I ain’t got no big deals like talkin’ about. I might’ve got a couple thousand dollars from posting some shit about a club up in Scotlandville. Few hundreds here or there. Bein’ a freshman running back at LSU when you got a whole stable of them niggas ain’t glamorous enough for that NIL money to roll in.”
“I got you. Thought you would’ve been up on one of these billboards all along I-10 by now. Seems like all the athletes at LSU on at least one. From football to golf.”
“Upperclassmen. Except the freshmen gymnastics hoes. Ever since that Livvy Dunne chick came through here back in the ‘20s, they be gassin’ the shit out of them. It’s highkey some pedophile shit if you ask me, but they ain’t askin’ me.”
“I guess it’s a good thing they aren’t asking you then. I don’t think there’s ever been a time in history when the quickest way to make a few dollars wasn’t with a little exposed, barely legal ass cheek,” Devin said before trying the chicken in front of him. Again, it didn’t taste as good as Hasan made it out to be but it’d do. “I asked because I’m just trying to get a feel of how other people are managing their shit. And dealing with all the people in your ear.”
“You got a bitch pregnant or somethin’, nigga?” Hasan asked, laughing. “Just say yes to everythin’ and take the money. Then go get a lawyer and fight that child support. But I know you had it in you to cheat on Carla ass. Unless y’all ain’t together no more.”
“No, I didn’t get anyone pregnant—”
“That you know of.”
“Chill out. I know. I’m still with Carla. Anyway, my grandpa always sending people to me talking about this deal or that deal. That shit is getting exhausting. Half the time, I’ve never even heard of the stuff these people are trying to sell.”
Hasan shrugged. “Your grandpa played ball when you got sentenced to life in prison if you signed a lil’ kid’s football or took a turkey sandwich from a booster. Of course, an OG like that is tryin’ to tell you to get as much money as possible.”
“Yeah, I guess. I don’t even have any big deals to be honest. I’m like you, just a few thousand here or there.”
“When you out here getting’ conference player of the week and shit? That’s why Big Devin in yo’ ear. You wildin’, youngster. He probably disappointed. You tried down, not swimmin’ in no pussy and you ain’t stackin’ no paper? Lord forgive him for he know not what he do.”
Devin could only shrug. The money athletes could get from NIL deals was obviously nice, but he didn’t want the added pressure.
“But since you brought it up earlier, lemme get some of y’all verbiage and shit before the game because y’all can afford to lose one. You niggas definitely ain’t winnin’ a natty,” Hasan said.
“At least we might be there. Y’all will be playing CFB ’53 to get there.”
“You lucky you my boy or I’d dive all cross the top of this table on your ass for how you talkin’ reckless.”
Devin laughed before starting to take care of the plate of chicken and mac and cheese on the table before it got cold.
-*****-
“C’mon, man! Stop pausin’ the fuckin’ game!”
Caesar ignored Junie’s complaints as he set the controller down in his lap to pick up his phone and respond to a flurry of texts from a few different numbers.
Some of the guys decided to take advantage of their Monday off to head to Tyrone’s apartment and spend the afternoon playing the latest edition of Madden. Despite regular pauses to answer texts, Caesar had been on the sticks for the last six games and the 14-0 score on the screen for the game between him and Junie made it seem like he was going to get a seventh win in a row.
Kendall glanced over Caesar’s shoulder to get a glimpse at the texts and shook his head. “How you getting your ass beat by a dude who over here trying to get some pussy from a bunch of different bitches between throwing bombs on your garbage ass?”
“Didn’t you get skunked in the first quarter, my nigga?” Junie shot back as Caesar finally put his phone down and unpaused the game.
“It’s still the first quarter for you, too,” Caesar said, gesturing to the screen. “And I got the ball.”
“The moral of the story is that we shouldn’t have let a rich nigga get on the game because he probably spent all his childhood getting fed ‘whore deerves’ while wreckin’ probably on video games and shit,” Tyrone said, laughing.
“Or all of y’all got a worse understanding of the game of football than I do which is information that probably shouldn’t leave this room considering all of y’all are upperclassmen and I’m just a little old freshman.”
Caesar, playing with the Oklahoma City Outlaws as he was prone to do when playing Madden, pressed a button on his controller to make the virtual quarterback throw a pass deep down the field. He put the controller down to pick up his phone again as the virtual receiver caught the pass and the AI ran the player into the endzone.
“Say, bruh. You ain’t have to put the controller down before the play was over,” Junie said as he tossed his controller on the floor in front of him before getting up and being replaced in his chair by Tyrone. “All that stuntin’ uncalled for.”
“Don’t get mad over a game, bruh,” Tyrone said, laughing. “We all boys in here. Besides, I don’t know if you know how to squabble and the last thing we need is motherfuckers on the injury report because they got they ass beat over some Madden.”
“I can fight.”
Caesar stood up, handing the controller to Kendall before moving to sit on a sofa. “It’s not all that serious. You just keep running that cover 2 man under like it was 2003 in here. Could’ve at least sent a blitz or two.”
“Yo, T. I thought you saw Darren was coming through? Bro think he too good to kick it with us or something?” Kendall asked as he sat in the chair next to Tyrone and the two of them started scrolling through the teams to pick who they would use.
“I ain’t say that. I said he said he might. I think him and Ramona decided they were go on one of them married couple dates they do every so often. That’s my brother from another mother, but he more pussy whipped than a motherfucker.”
“Just like Caesar then,” Junie said, laughing at his own joke.
“You really mad about getting skunked, huh?” Caesar asked, not looking up from his phone. “It’s okay, man. No one’s going to clown you because you got beat on Madden. Just let that shit go and free your mind. Besides, not a single bitch got me pussy whipped. I’m a free agent.”
“Nigga gonna catch that shit messing with all them white bitches,” Kendall said, nudging Tyrone with his elbow causing them both to laugh.
Shaking his head, Caesar put his phone down on the sofa and got up to head for the door.
“Bro, I know you not leavin’ because we fuckin’ with you,” Tyrone said over his shoulder. “We know you rich enough to have them miracle drugs that keep your dick from turnin’ green and fallin’ off. But while you up, get me somethin’ to drink out the kitchen.”
Caesar ignored them and opened the door, stepping aside to allow a girl to step inside the apartment. She wore a Tulane track hoodie and a pair of joggers. She lowered a pair of headphones from her ears and rested them around her neck.
She looked around Caesar to see the other three guys in the living room.
“You ain’t say it’d be a gang of niggas in here,” she said.
“I didn’t say this was my apartment either and you still came. So, you getting shy on me now?”
“Don’t play with me. Where we going?”
He called Tyrone’s name to get his attention as they’d started the game, and the trash talk was already flowing between Tyrone and Kendall before the game had even loaded up the opening kick off.
“Hey, you still got that empty room back there, right?”
“Yeah, for what?” Tyrone asked back without looking over his shoulder.
“Alright, we’ll be back there,” Caesar said as he waved for the girl to follow him.
Tyrone glanced over his shoulder. “We?”
Junie and Kendall turned around as well, just as Caesar and his guest disappeared down the hall. The three of them looked at one another with a confused look on their faces.
“Wasn’t that fucking Tyesha?” Kendall asked.
“I thought she ain’t fuck dudes,” Junie said.
“Apparently she does,” Tyrone said, shrugging before turning back to the game.
…
An hour later, Caesar and Tyesha emerged from the room and walked into the living area. Kendall had left and had been replaced by Kerby and Darren. They along with Junie and Tyrone were in a heated discussion about a rapper’s new album and whether it was on the level of Drake’s later catalog.
“Don’t be telling me to come to no other motherfucker house no more,” Tyesha said to Caesar as the two of them walked to the door. A little bit of humor could be heard in her words.
“That’s cool. Next time, I’ll just come to your place. How about that?”
“I don’t like no white boys in my apartment,” she said, sucking her teeth.
“Didn’t hear anything about me lacking melanin a minute ago.”
She rolled her eyes. “Bye, Caesar.”
She left the apartment and Caesar went to see on the sofa next to Darren where he’d left his phone. The group stopped talking as he did. He picked it up his phone and started to answer some texts he missed.
“Yo, I thought Tyesha was a lesbian?” Darren asked Tyrone, gesturing with his thumb toward the door. “I swore she used to fuck with that chick Raquel on the basketball team.”
“That’s the same shit I see!” Junie shouted.
“They were probably back there exchangin’ tips on how to eat pussy,” Kerby said.
Caesar shrugged. “If she’s a lesbian then she hasn’t always been one, because she gives some fire ass head.”
“That boy sick,” Tyrone said, laughing.
“Darren, you drove over here?” Caesar asked, putting his phone in his pocket and standing up.”
“Yeah, why?”
“Can you bring me to the Tri Delta’s house? I’m not trying to walk all the way across campus to get my car and drive myself.”
“Nigga, didn’t you just get some pussy?” Tyrone asked. “Like not even just as in earlier today, likely literally just pulled your dick out of some chick? Dick probably still smell like nut and pussy.”
Caesar raised an eyebrow, not expecting Tyrone to be the one to be the voice of reason as that task usually fell to Darren. He shook his head and ignored the question, turning back to Darren.
“So, can you bring me?”
Darren shrugged and sighed before pushing himself to his feet. “You’re going to owe me charging money because I’m not an Uber for any other than me to be going get any pussy.”
“I got you,” Caesar said, taking his phone out of his pocket and quickly sending $50 to Darren for the cost of charging his car – much more than the ten minute trip would cost.
“You gonna be tired as a bitch doin’ all that fuckin’, bruh. Don’t forget that we playin’ Bama this week. We blamin’ you and your dick if we lose,” Tyrone said as Darren and Caesar left the apartment.
-
Captain Canada
- Posts: 4972
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
War of the Roses: Redux Edition
This man Caesar really an animal, goddamn.
War of the Roses: Redux Edition
Tidal Clash
“Tulane has the ball on their own 22-yard line and a mile to go if they’re going to get into position to attempt the game-winning field goal.”
“You know, Alex, it can feel like you’re staring down the belly of the beast when you’re in BSD with the game on the line and the crowd rocking like this. But this is the type of scenario that all kids come up with when they’re in their backyards. Let’s see if the Green Wave can make it happen.”
“Reyes lines up in the shotgun, three receivers to his left and one to his right. The Green Wave have one timeout and 57 seconds to get to at least Alabama’s 35 if they want to give Neal Cooper a chance to hit this one. He hit from 51 earlier tonight. The ball is snapped…”
…
Devin couldn’t help the sense of awe he felt as he stood on the sideline, watching as the teams prepared for the opening kickoff. Yulman was an impressive stadium, and it was home. They’d played in Vaught-Hemmingway and Nippert this season.
They’d been down on the field for pre-game warm-ups.
But nothing would’ve been able to prepare him for the sheer crush of humanity that packed into Bryant-Saban-Denny on a night in Tuscaloosa. More than 100,000 people surrounded them, and the majority of them were wearing crimson and houndstooth, hoping that they’d witness the usual beating that Alabama dealt out to Tulane over the years.
With a later kickoff, the prolonged tailgating had properly liquored up the Tide faithful – if the colorful descriptions the ones behind the Green Wave bench were using to talk about the players’ mothers were any indication.
This was it.
This was what it was like to play college football.
He pulled on his helmet and jogged onto the field for the first drive of the game.
…
“Junior Lorenzo Page takes the field for the first time this afternoon, and what a season Alabama’s field general is having. He’s on pace for 4,000 yards and 45 touchdowns, and there is a very vocal subset of college football fans who think he should be leading the field for the Heisman come the end of the season.”
“I think that just goes to show you how good everyone thinks Ohio State’s Adrian Holmes and TCU’s Ron DeRossi have been. But Page is definitely going to be the toughest quarterback that Tulane has faced this season.”
…
“Page breaks free from the sack and sidearms a strike into the chest of Dexter Miller for a gain of 11 on the play!”
…
“Keeping it on the ground here with DeJulio Briggs. He plunges up the middle for a short gain of six.”
…
“Dominick Caldwell gets open and gets a big gain of 20!”
…
“Briggs up the middle again. Expect Alabama to mix in a heavy dose of running it straight into the teeth of Tulane’s defense.”
…
“Page spins out of the sack and underarms it to Ezequiel Pope for a first down!”
…
“Miller reels it in and he’s not going to be touched as he waltzes into the endzone for the first points of the game.”
“The Green Wave are going to want to get that one back quickly. You can’t get behind too big early in BSD if you’re looking to get a win. This stadium will suck the soul out of any team that has high hopes.”
“Pause. Ramon Hodges comes out to attempt the extra point. It’s up and it’s good. Seven-nothing Alabama here in the first quarter.”
…
“Darren Reyes gets brought down in the backfield on first down and Alabama’s fired up on defense!”
…
“Batted down by Shad Rawlings. That matchup on the outside between the Tide’s Rawlings and Tulane’s Caesar Jenkins is going to be one to watch all day.”
“I think there was some bulletin board material up after that one interview from the freshman Jenkins.”
…
“The Wave plays it save with a draw up the middle. Clint Piggett takes the field for the first punt of the game after a three-and-out.”
…
“Page powers it into the endzone himself after a grueling, punishing, 17-play, 74-yard drive that burned up the majority of the quarter. Alabama’s going to go up 14-0 pending the extra point and that Tulane sideline looks shellshocked early on here.”
“I think it’s worth noting that Tulane hasn’t beaten Alabama since 2031 before the program decided to make the jump back to the SEC. And that was a win in a bowl game. If you want to find the last time they beat the Tide in Tuscaloosa, you have to go aaaaaaalll the way back to the year 1900. But they do have a couple wins in Mobile in the 1950s.”
“Hopefully, this one isn’t going to get too ugly.”
…
“The Wave gets their offense going in the right direction on this drive with a four-yard scamper from Tyrone Frazier.”
…
“Reyes finds Jenkins for their first link-up of the game and that’s going to be a first down.”
…
“Nigel Conrad on the receiving end of that pass and it’s another first down for the Green Wave.”
…
“Frazier bounces it outside for a pickup of seven on the play.”
…
Caesar jogged to his usual position on the boundary. He glanced toward the safeties as one of them rolled down into the box. Darren stepped up to the line of scrimmage, barking out adjustments and making changes.
He signaled adjustments to the receivers as well before stepping back into his position in the shotgun.
Caesar burst off the line when the ball was snapped, chopping down on the cornerback’s arms as he tried to jam him. He throttled down and turned toward the line of scrimmage just in time to see the ball spiraling his way.
Bringing it in, he turned up the field and saw a flash of crimson in his peripheral. He shot his arm out and caught the corner square in his chest with a stiff arm. Shoving him to the ground, he spun to avoid getting his feet caught by flailing arms.
With a glance over his shoulder, it was off to the races as the Alabama defenders pursued him to make the stop before it turned into a big gain.
He stepped into the endzone over a last-gasp attempt by another defender to bring him down.
Jogging across the back of the endzone, he stopped at the nearest camera and pulled a ball of fabric out of his sock and let it dangle from his fingers as he ran off the field.
…
“Touchdown, Tulane! But what was that in Caesar Jenkins’ hand?”
“It looked like a pair of ladies’ underwear.”
…
“A promising drive comes to nothing for Alabama and they’re going to have to punt here.”
…
“Neal Cooper is on for the try. It’s up and it’s good. The Green Wave have cut the lead to four, and they’re back in this game after a shaky start.”
…
Devin shuffled back from the line of scrimmage, giving the receiver lined up across from him a bit of a cushion as the Tide faced a third and medium. After the first two drives, things had settled down and the game was turning into a real slog.
The ball was snapped, and Devin shaded the receiver to the inside until passing him off to the next zone. He stepped up as he saw an out route entering his area of his responsibility. The receiver’s head snapped around and he put his hand up.
Jabbing his foot into the turf, Devin broke into a full sprint in the receiver’s direction. The quarterback turned and threw the ball in his direction just as he was getting hit by Blair.
Devin jumped the route perfectly and caught the ball just as it was about to get to the receiver. His momentum carried him away from a lunging attempt to try to clip his feet as he passed by.
He quickly scanned the field looking for a potential cut-back lane as the running back squared him up for a tackle but before he could do anything, he was shoved out of bounds from behind by an Alabama player.
Rolling to his feet on the Tide’s sideline, the adrenaline had him wagging a finger at his opponents.
Fortunately, the referees were there to prevent a fracas as the two teams came together on the sideline.
…
“Big time interception from freshman corner Devin King and the Green Wave will have a chance to take the lead before halftime.”
“It’s all about the ol’ Mo and Tulane won’t want this second quarter to end with things going in their favor right now. Alabama will be begging to get into the locker rooms, though, and break the tide against them.”
“Pun intended?”
“Pun intended.”
…
“Frazier breaks it for a long run and he’s brought down at the Crimson Tide’s 11. That could’ve be a homerun play off the interception.”
…
“Thibodeaux tries to go up the middle, but he’s stopped after only a couple yards on that play.”
…
“Frazier checks back in. Reyes flips it out to him and that’s going to be a walk-in touchdown. Tulane’s going to take the lead 17-14 pending the extra point.”
…
As the two teams jogged off the field with the Green Wave up 17-14, the decibel levels of the crowd seemed to only grow as the fans in attendance knew they were in for a fight in the second half and needed to find a way to will their Crimson Tide to a win.
A group of older fans shouted obscenities down at the Tulane players as they ran past to the locker rooms.
Caesar, feeling himself after his big touchdown against their best corner, turned to jog backward and blew kisses toward the fans which only served to make them angrier. A couple of security guards shoved Caesar toward the tunnel before things could get out of hand.
…
“Cooper adds a field goal to Tulane’s lead and it’s 20-14.”
…
“Things have really calmed down here in the third quarter after that flurry of scoring in the second. Alabama is looking to retake the lead with a touchdown here.”
…
“Page finds Briggs out of the backfield and that’s going to be a touchdown for the Tide. This game is really turning into an all-timer.”
“You know this is what you can expect from a top tier SEC game.”
…
“Tulane’s drive bogs down and they’re going to be forced to settle for another field goal, but it’ll give them the lead back halfway through the fourth quarter. The kick is up and it’s good with Cooper improving to three-for-three on the afternoon.”
…
“Alabama’s going slow and methodical on this drive. It took them almost two minutes to run through that set of downs.”
…
“Page hits Miller in stride for the first down.”
…
“Caldwell pulls that one in for a short gain.”
…
“The Tide still taking their time as they approach field goal range. Briggs plunges up the middle for a gain of about three or four.”
“They’re looking to make this the last drive of the game it seems like.”
…
“Page gets out of the pocket, takes it himself and he’s down to the Green Wave 22!”
“Tick, tick, tick. The clock just hit the two-minute warning and Alabama’s in chip shot range here. Tulane’s undefeated season could be coming to an end.”
“When we return from the two-minute warning, Tulane have all three of their timeouts. Let’s see how they use them.”
…
“Miscommunication in the backfield and Page has to dive on top of the ball after a mishandled exchange between him and Briggs! Tulane’s going to keep their timeouts as the clock keeps ticking.”
…
“Briggs secures the handoff this time and bounces it outside for a pick-up of five on the play. He’s gotten most of the lost yardage back and Tulane’s calling their first timeout with a minute and change remaining on the clock.”
“A big third down coming up here.”
…
Devin locked eyes with the Alabama receiver opposite of him. Despite the deafening din of the stadium, he could hear his heart thudding in his ears. The crowd was almost pulling the Tide’s offense forward with sheer force of will.
The receiver motioned to the opposite side of the field and Devin followed. The ball was snapped just as he reached the outside shoulder of the tackle, and the quarterback shoveled the ball forward to the now-sprinting receiver.
Devin tried to fight his way through the crowd of bodies in front of him. He could just barely make out the receiver behind the line of scrimmage, having to bounce his run wider into the backfield to avoid getting brought down for a loss.
Following the play to the sideline, Devin’s eyes darted around as he tried to get to the ball and avoid getting blown up by a pulling offensive lineman.
The receiver turned up field through a small gap between two of his blockers.
Devin planted his feet to turn back. He slipped on the turf as the receiver tried to juke away from him. Devin lunged at his feet, trying with everything he had left in him to grab hold of an ankle, a foot, a toe, anything.
His hand smacked the heel of the receiver’s cleats with just enough force to send him tumbling to the turf.
The Alabama players immediately started signaling that they’d gotten the first down while the Tulane players were arguing the opposite as the chain gang ran out onto the field.
From sounding as if he were inside a jet engine only moments earlier, the entire stadium fell silent as the referee picked up the ball and placed it where they’d deemed the receiver had gone down.
He took one glance at the ball and the position of the chains and raised his hands only inches from one another.
And the traveling Green Wave fans burst into their loudest roar of the night.
…
“Alabama fails to draw them offside on 4th and inches and burns their final timeout. What’s the call here, Josh? 4th and inches at home, 23-21. Only a minute and change to go in the game. Tulane only has one timeout left.”
“It’s only a 33, 34-yard field goal. If it were me, I’d go for it and burn more of that clock down. If we have to settle for it with 20 or 30 seconds left then that’s fine. The risk here is that they don’t have anymore timeouts themselves. The last thing you want to do is get brought down for a loss and have to run your kicker out there. That said, are we betting on Tulane in BSD to have a miracle drive? They’ve only gotten a pair of field goals in the second half. I’d kick it now.”
“It looks like Coach Malone agrees with you. Here comes Ramon Hodges to attempt it. He lines up and it’s through the uprights. Easy as you like to take the lead, 24-23 Alabama.”
…
“Tulane has the ball on their own 22-yard line and a mile to go if they’re going to get into position to attempt the game-winning field goal.”
“You know, Alex, it can feel like you’re staring down the belly of the beast when you’re in BSD with the game on the line and the crowd rocking like this. But this is the type of scenario that all kids come up with when they’re in their backyards. Let’s see if the Green Wave can make it happen.”
“Reyes lines up in the shotgun, three receivers to his left and one to his right. The Green Wave have one timeout and 57 seconds to get to at least Alabama’s 35 if they want to give Neal Cooper a chance to hit this one. He hit from 51 earlier tonight. The ball is snapped. Reyes drops back and fires a laser to Conrad for a quick gain of seven and he’s out of bounds.”
…
“Reyes takes it himself for a gain of five on the play and they’re hurrying back to the line of scrimmage.”
“Smart from Denver Shuman to mix the run in with this amount of time left.”
…
“Greer picks up 11 on the quick out and gets out of bounds to stop the clock with 30 seconds remaining in the game. The Green Wave are at their own 45 and will want to gain at least 20 to 25 more yards to make this easy for Cooper.”
…
“Reyes finds Dallas and Tulane’s on Alabama’s side of the field at the 40! Reyes hurries everyone back to the line and clocks it at 23 seconds.”
“The Tide is going to need a big play here if they want to win this game with the Green Wave almost in range for a make-able field goal.”
“What’s the call here if you’re Coach Shuman?”
“You want to get the ball as close as you can so you’re not forcing your kicker to make something from NFL range. With this amount of time and a timeout, I’m thinking you can maybe run one longer developing play but you’re telling your quarterback don’t get sacked.”
…
As the ball was snapped, Caesar shuffled to the outside then burst to the inside, putting the cornerback behind him. He turned his head toward the backfield and signaled for the ball, but Darren was flushed out of the pocket.
Planting his feet, he turned back to give the quarterback somewhere to throw the ball. Darren sidearmed a pass in his direction just as he was getting hit. It was accurate enough and had enough juice to get to Caesar and he reeled it in.
He squared up the cornerback and stutter-stepped to the left before juking to the right, leaving the Alabama defender grasping for air as he turned up field.
As he scanned the field for defenders, he caught a glimpse of the entire Tulane sideline motioning for him to go down.
Arms wrapped around his waist, but he spun out of the tackle attempt and kept his footing to stumble forward another five yards. A second attempt to bring him down was successful despite his attempts to scramble on his hand for more yardage.
…
“Jenkins with a gain of 14 on the play, but he burned a lot of clock and Tulane may have wanted this centered. There will be six seconds left on the clock when the clock is started again. The Green Wave’s rushing to the line.”
“I think they’re going to try to center it. Risky play here!”
“Reyes takes the snap and dives to the center of the field. Coach Shuman sprinted the length of the field to get to the line judge and be ready to call that timeout. Three seconds remaining on the clock.”
…
“Cooper lines up for the 43-yard field goal. This stadium is doing everything it can to throw him off. He signals that he’s ready. The snap is good. The kick is up … It’s good! Tulane wins! Tulane wins! The Green Wave have defeated the Alabama Crimson Tide for the first time in decades! Their undefeated season continues!”
“Tulane has the ball on their own 22-yard line and a mile to go if they’re going to get into position to attempt the game-winning field goal.”
“You know, Alex, it can feel like you’re staring down the belly of the beast when you’re in BSD with the game on the line and the crowd rocking like this. But this is the type of scenario that all kids come up with when they’re in their backyards. Let’s see if the Green Wave can make it happen.”
“Reyes lines up in the shotgun, three receivers to his left and one to his right. The Green Wave have one timeout and 57 seconds to get to at least Alabama’s 35 if they want to give Neal Cooper a chance to hit this one. He hit from 51 earlier tonight. The ball is snapped…”
…
Devin couldn’t help the sense of awe he felt as he stood on the sideline, watching as the teams prepared for the opening kickoff. Yulman was an impressive stadium, and it was home. They’d played in Vaught-Hemmingway and Nippert this season.
They’d been down on the field for pre-game warm-ups.
But nothing would’ve been able to prepare him for the sheer crush of humanity that packed into Bryant-Saban-Denny on a night in Tuscaloosa. More than 100,000 people surrounded them, and the majority of them were wearing crimson and houndstooth, hoping that they’d witness the usual beating that Alabama dealt out to Tulane over the years.
With a later kickoff, the prolonged tailgating had properly liquored up the Tide faithful – if the colorful descriptions the ones behind the Green Wave bench were using to talk about the players’ mothers were any indication.
This was it.
This was what it was like to play college football.
He pulled on his helmet and jogged onto the field for the first drive of the game.
…
“Junior Lorenzo Page takes the field for the first time this afternoon, and what a season Alabama’s field general is having. He’s on pace for 4,000 yards and 45 touchdowns, and there is a very vocal subset of college football fans who think he should be leading the field for the Heisman come the end of the season.”
“I think that just goes to show you how good everyone thinks Ohio State’s Adrian Holmes and TCU’s Ron DeRossi have been. But Page is definitely going to be the toughest quarterback that Tulane has faced this season.”
…
“Page breaks free from the sack and sidearms a strike into the chest of Dexter Miller for a gain of 11 on the play!”
…
“Keeping it on the ground here with DeJulio Briggs. He plunges up the middle for a short gain of six.”
…
“Dominick Caldwell gets open and gets a big gain of 20!”
…
“Briggs up the middle again. Expect Alabama to mix in a heavy dose of running it straight into the teeth of Tulane’s defense.”
…
“Page spins out of the sack and underarms it to Ezequiel Pope for a first down!”
…
“Miller reels it in and he’s not going to be touched as he waltzes into the endzone for the first points of the game.”
“The Green Wave are going to want to get that one back quickly. You can’t get behind too big early in BSD if you’re looking to get a win. This stadium will suck the soul out of any team that has high hopes.”
“Pause. Ramon Hodges comes out to attempt the extra point. It’s up and it’s good. Seven-nothing Alabama here in the first quarter.”
…
“Darren Reyes gets brought down in the backfield on first down and Alabama’s fired up on defense!”
…
“Batted down by Shad Rawlings. That matchup on the outside between the Tide’s Rawlings and Tulane’s Caesar Jenkins is going to be one to watch all day.”
“I think there was some bulletin board material up after that one interview from the freshman Jenkins.”
…
“The Wave plays it save with a draw up the middle. Clint Piggett takes the field for the first punt of the game after a three-and-out.”
…
“Page powers it into the endzone himself after a grueling, punishing, 17-play, 74-yard drive that burned up the majority of the quarter. Alabama’s going to go up 14-0 pending the extra point and that Tulane sideline looks shellshocked early on here.”
“I think it’s worth noting that Tulane hasn’t beaten Alabama since 2031 before the program decided to make the jump back to the SEC. And that was a win in a bowl game. If you want to find the last time they beat the Tide in Tuscaloosa, you have to go aaaaaaalll the way back to the year 1900. But they do have a couple wins in Mobile in the 1950s.”
“Hopefully, this one isn’t going to get too ugly.”
…
“The Wave gets their offense going in the right direction on this drive with a four-yard scamper from Tyrone Frazier.”
…
“Reyes finds Jenkins for their first link-up of the game and that’s going to be a first down.”
…
“Nigel Conrad on the receiving end of that pass and it’s another first down for the Green Wave.”
…
“Frazier bounces it outside for a pickup of seven on the play.”
…
Caesar jogged to his usual position on the boundary. He glanced toward the safeties as one of them rolled down into the box. Darren stepped up to the line of scrimmage, barking out adjustments and making changes.
He signaled adjustments to the receivers as well before stepping back into his position in the shotgun.
Caesar burst off the line when the ball was snapped, chopping down on the cornerback’s arms as he tried to jam him. He throttled down and turned toward the line of scrimmage just in time to see the ball spiraling his way.
Bringing it in, he turned up the field and saw a flash of crimson in his peripheral. He shot his arm out and caught the corner square in his chest with a stiff arm. Shoving him to the ground, he spun to avoid getting his feet caught by flailing arms.
With a glance over his shoulder, it was off to the races as the Alabama defenders pursued him to make the stop before it turned into a big gain.
He stepped into the endzone over a last-gasp attempt by another defender to bring him down.
Jogging across the back of the endzone, he stopped at the nearest camera and pulled a ball of fabric out of his sock and let it dangle from his fingers as he ran off the field.
…
“Touchdown, Tulane! But what was that in Caesar Jenkins’ hand?”
“It looked like a pair of ladies’ underwear.”
…
“A promising drive comes to nothing for Alabama and they’re going to have to punt here.”
…
“Neal Cooper is on for the try. It’s up and it’s good. The Green Wave have cut the lead to four, and they’re back in this game after a shaky start.”
…
Devin shuffled back from the line of scrimmage, giving the receiver lined up across from him a bit of a cushion as the Tide faced a third and medium. After the first two drives, things had settled down and the game was turning into a real slog.
The ball was snapped, and Devin shaded the receiver to the inside until passing him off to the next zone. He stepped up as he saw an out route entering his area of his responsibility. The receiver’s head snapped around and he put his hand up.
Jabbing his foot into the turf, Devin broke into a full sprint in the receiver’s direction. The quarterback turned and threw the ball in his direction just as he was getting hit by Blair.
Devin jumped the route perfectly and caught the ball just as it was about to get to the receiver. His momentum carried him away from a lunging attempt to try to clip his feet as he passed by.
He quickly scanned the field looking for a potential cut-back lane as the running back squared him up for a tackle but before he could do anything, he was shoved out of bounds from behind by an Alabama player.
Rolling to his feet on the Tide’s sideline, the adrenaline had him wagging a finger at his opponents.
Fortunately, the referees were there to prevent a fracas as the two teams came together on the sideline.
…
“Big time interception from freshman corner Devin King and the Green Wave will have a chance to take the lead before halftime.”
“It’s all about the ol’ Mo and Tulane won’t want this second quarter to end with things going in their favor right now. Alabama will be begging to get into the locker rooms, though, and break the tide against them.”
“Pun intended?”
“Pun intended.”
…
“Frazier breaks it for a long run and he’s brought down at the Crimson Tide’s 11. That could’ve be a homerun play off the interception.”
…
“Thibodeaux tries to go up the middle, but he’s stopped after only a couple yards on that play.”
…
“Frazier checks back in. Reyes flips it out to him and that’s going to be a walk-in touchdown. Tulane’s going to take the lead 17-14 pending the extra point.”
…
As the two teams jogged off the field with the Green Wave up 17-14, the decibel levels of the crowd seemed to only grow as the fans in attendance knew they were in for a fight in the second half and needed to find a way to will their Crimson Tide to a win.
A group of older fans shouted obscenities down at the Tulane players as they ran past to the locker rooms.
Caesar, feeling himself after his big touchdown against their best corner, turned to jog backward and blew kisses toward the fans which only served to make them angrier. A couple of security guards shoved Caesar toward the tunnel before things could get out of hand.
…
“Cooper adds a field goal to Tulane’s lead and it’s 20-14.”
…
“Things have really calmed down here in the third quarter after that flurry of scoring in the second. Alabama is looking to retake the lead with a touchdown here.”
…
“Page finds Briggs out of the backfield and that’s going to be a touchdown for the Tide. This game is really turning into an all-timer.”
“You know this is what you can expect from a top tier SEC game.”
…
“Tulane’s drive bogs down and they’re going to be forced to settle for another field goal, but it’ll give them the lead back halfway through the fourth quarter. The kick is up and it’s good with Cooper improving to three-for-three on the afternoon.”
…
“Alabama’s going slow and methodical on this drive. It took them almost two minutes to run through that set of downs.”
…
“Page hits Miller in stride for the first down.”
…
“Caldwell pulls that one in for a short gain.”
…
“The Tide still taking their time as they approach field goal range. Briggs plunges up the middle for a gain of about three or four.”
“They’re looking to make this the last drive of the game it seems like.”
…
“Page gets out of the pocket, takes it himself and he’s down to the Green Wave 22!”
“Tick, tick, tick. The clock just hit the two-minute warning and Alabama’s in chip shot range here. Tulane’s undefeated season could be coming to an end.”
“When we return from the two-minute warning, Tulane have all three of their timeouts. Let’s see how they use them.”
…
“Miscommunication in the backfield and Page has to dive on top of the ball after a mishandled exchange between him and Briggs! Tulane’s going to keep their timeouts as the clock keeps ticking.”
…
“Briggs secures the handoff this time and bounces it outside for a pick-up of five on the play. He’s gotten most of the lost yardage back and Tulane’s calling their first timeout with a minute and change remaining on the clock.”
“A big third down coming up here.”
…
Devin locked eyes with the Alabama receiver opposite of him. Despite the deafening din of the stadium, he could hear his heart thudding in his ears. The crowd was almost pulling the Tide’s offense forward with sheer force of will.
The receiver motioned to the opposite side of the field and Devin followed. The ball was snapped just as he reached the outside shoulder of the tackle, and the quarterback shoveled the ball forward to the now-sprinting receiver.
Devin tried to fight his way through the crowd of bodies in front of him. He could just barely make out the receiver behind the line of scrimmage, having to bounce his run wider into the backfield to avoid getting brought down for a loss.
Following the play to the sideline, Devin’s eyes darted around as he tried to get to the ball and avoid getting blown up by a pulling offensive lineman.
The receiver turned up field through a small gap between two of his blockers.
Devin planted his feet to turn back. He slipped on the turf as the receiver tried to juke away from him. Devin lunged at his feet, trying with everything he had left in him to grab hold of an ankle, a foot, a toe, anything.
His hand smacked the heel of the receiver’s cleats with just enough force to send him tumbling to the turf.
The Alabama players immediately started signaling that they’d gotten the first down while the Tulane players were arguing the opposite as the chain gang ran out onto the field.
From sounding as if he were inside a jet engine only moments earlier, the entire stadium fell silent as the referee picked up the ball and placed it where they’d deemed the receiver had gone down.
He took one glance at the ball and the position of the chains and raised his hands only inches from one another.
And the traveling Green Wave fans burst into their loudest roar of the night.
…
“Alabama fails to draw them offside on 4th and inches and burns their final timeout. What’s the call here, Josh? 4th and inches at home, 23-21. Only a minute and change to go in the game. Tulane only has one timeout left.”
“It’s only a 33, 34-yard field goal. If it were me, I’d go for it and burn more of that clock down. If we have to settle for it with 20 or 30 seconds left then that’s fine. The risk here is that they don’t have anymore timeouts themselves. The last thing you want to do is get brought down for a loss and have to run your kicker out there. That said, are we betting on Tulane in BSD to have a miracle drive? They’ve only gotten a pair of field goals in the second half. I’d kick it now.”
“It looks like Coach Malone agrees with you. Here comes Ramon Hodges to attempt it. He lines up and it’s through the uprights. Easy as you like to take the lead, 24-23 Alabama.”
…
“Tulane has the ball on their own 22-yard line and a mile to go if they’re going to get into position to attempt the game-winning field goal.”
“You know, Alex, it can feel like you’re staring down the belly of the beast when you’re in BSD with the game on the line and the crowd rocking like this. But this is the type of scenario that all kids come up with when they’re in their backyards. Let’s see if the Green Wave can make it happen.”
“Reyes lines up in the shotgun, three receivers to his left and one to his right. The Green Wave have one timeout and 57 seconds to get to at least Alabama’s 35 if they want to give Neal Cooper a chance to hit this one. He hit from 51 earlier tonight. The ball is snapped. Reyes drops back and fires a laser to Conrad for a quick gain of seven and he’s out of bounds.”
…
“Reyes takes it himself for a gain of five on the play and they’re hurrying back to the line of scrimmage.”
“Smart from Denver Shuman to mix the run in with this amount of time left.”
…
“Greer picks up 11 on the quick out and gets out of bounds to stop the clock with 30 seconds remaining in the game. The Green Wave are at their own 45 and will want to gain at least 20 to 25 more yards to make this easy for Cooper.”
…
“Reyes finds Dallas and Tulane’s on Alabama’s side of the field at the 40! Reyes hurries everyone back to the line and clocks it at 23 seconds.”
“The Tide is going to need a big play here if they want to win this game with the Green Wave almost in range for a make-able field goal.”
“What’s the call here if you’re Coach Shuman?”
“You want to get the ball as close as you can so you’re not forcing your kicker to make something from NFL range. With this amount of time and a timeout, I’m thinking you can maybe run one longer developing play but you’re telling your quarterback don’t get sacked.”
…
As the ball was snapped, Caesar shuffled to the outside then burst to the inside, putting the cornerback behind him. He turned his head toward the backfield and signaled for the ball, but Darren was flushed out of the pocket.
Planting his feet, he turned back to give the quarterback somewhere to throw the ball. Darren sidearmed a pass in his direction just as he was getting hit. It was accurate enough and had enough juice to get to Caesar and he reeled it in.
He squared up the cornerback and stutter-stepped to the left before juking to the right, leaving the Alabama defender grasping for air as he turned up field.
As he scanned the field for defenders, he caught a glimpse of the entire Tulane sideline motioning for him to go down.
Arms wrapped around his waist, but he spun out of the tackle attempt and kept his footing to stumble forward another five yards. A second attempt to bring him down was successful despite his attempts to scramble on his hand for more yardage.
…
“Jenkins with a gain of 14 on the play, but he burned a lot of clock and Tulane may have wanted this centered. There will be six seconds left on the clock when the clock is started again. The Green Wave’s rushing to the line.”
“I think they’re going to try to center it. Risky play here!”
“Reyes takes the snap and dives to the center of the field. Coach Shuman sprinted the length of the field to get to the line judge and be ready to call that timeout. Three seconds remaining on the clock.”
…
“Cooper lines up for the 43-yard field goal. This stadium is doing everything it can to throw him off. He signals that he’s ready. The snap is good. The kick is up … It’s good! Tulane wins! Tulane wins! The Green Wave have defeated the Alabama Crimson Tide for the first time in decades! Their undefeated season continues!”
-
Captain Canada
- Posts: 4972
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
War of the Roses: Redux Edition
It's been fuck Bama.
War of the Roses: Redux Edition
Crunch Time
“How you up here bragging about some shit when you got scored on?”
“I popped his ass though! Motherfucker was looking out his ear hole on the ground.”
“But he fucking scored.”
Erik sat in the corner of the living room of one of his teammate’s apartment, rubbing at his eyes to try to stave off the headache that had been hammer away inside his skull for the last 30 minutes as the others in the room argued about their performances the night before.
There was one issue with all of the boasting and bravado — they’d lost.
LSU notched their sixth loss of the season. It was a real blow to the season after they’d won a couple in a row and looked like they were going to finish the season strong. With two games remaining, one against Texas A&M and the other against the undefeated Green Wave, it was becoming increasingly likely that the 2052 campaign would be ending a little early.
And as was the case in modern college football, an unsuccessful season meant players would start looking to put their names in the transfer portal to find greener pastures.
“Hey, E,” Drake called from the other side of the room, breaking him out of his thoughts. “What the women like in DFW, bruh? They bad? Got a call from some dude at SMU that said they interested in talking to me.”
Erik rubbed his temples. “SMU is like any other PWI, I guess. But there are millions of people there. There are sure to be some good looking bitches running around, especially with all the pro teams there.”
“Now why you askin’ him about places where white women at? You know my boy Erik likes our sisters,” Hasan said as he walked out of the kitchen with a plate in his hand that held three sandwiches and a pile of chips.
“Nigga, who told you that you could help yourself to my food?” Drake asked when Hasan sat down next to him.
“Don’t act like you pay for it, bruh. This shit free to me ‘cause it was free to you.”
“Triflin’ ass,” the receiver said. He motioned to Byron Roberts, one of the defensive backs on the team and who he shared the apartment with. “Byron, you tell them that you gonna put your name in the portal yet? Or you still thinking about hitting the draft instead and taking your chances with that?”
Byron shrugged. “I’m waiting to see what happens next week. I heard they gonna fire coach if we don’t win big so he might be in a lose-lose situation. You think them recruits staying if Justice go? Nah, I don’t know about all that. I might try to go somewhere it snow.”
“My problem with it is gettin’ in the portal and tryin’ to stay P5 and then you end up at fuckin’ UConn or some shit,” Hasan said. He gestured outside with his hand holding one of his sandwiches. “This about as cold as I want it to be where I am. Our ancestors ain’t have to deal with the cold and I ain’t going to be the one to start that.”
“It ain’t even that bad up north. Y’all just got low blood iron or whatever that anemia shit is that the bitches be having,” Nick Lynch, a sophomore linebacker from Illinois, said. He was the rare elite athlete from Chicago who was better placed on a football field than he was on a basketball court. “Fuck, the humidity alone be having me regretting come here all summer. It don’t help that y’all niggas fucking suck.”
“What do you mean y’all? You’re on the fucking team, too,” Erik said.
“Yeah, but it’s y’all who suck. I’m just keeping it a bean with y’all. Don’t take it the wrong way or anything. Just remember y’all knew me when I’m balling at Ohio State next year.”
“Unless you’re putting yourself on Ohio State on a video game then I don’t know how you’re playing for them because we’ve all seen you out there getting ran through like your mama used to in those trains. Choo choo, motherfucker.”
Nick tapped Byron on the shoulder and jabbed a thumb in Erik’s direction. “I know this wannabe thug, rich kid ain’t talking shit? If we all had our daddy helping us everyday and throwing money at all our problems, then we could be all nonchalant like him.”
Erik sprung up from the chair he was in and crossed the room to get in Nick’s face. “What the fuck you said?”
“Watch out, lil’ bitch. You not really built like that. Your daddy name might matter to other people and to you, but that shit don’t faze me. We all know you never had to struggle a da—“
Erik punched Nick in the face before he could finish his sentence, catching him off guard. He then grabbed him by the shirt and hit him a few more times before the others in the room managed to separate them.
“Nah, he grown. Let him go!” Erik shouted, trying to rip away from Hasan and Drake.
“Chill out, bro,” Hasan said, shoving Erik back with one hand while still holding his plate of food with the other. He was shocked to see this side of his roommate outside of the violence he exhibited on the football field.
“You lucky they between us. You can’t sucker punch me twice,” Nick said, wiping his lip to check for blood.
“Boy, fuck you,” Erik said, smacking the plate out of Hasan’s hand in Nick’s direction. “We can take this outside and see who was raised around real killers.”
Drake and Byron shared then glanced at the mess on the floor.
“Now all y’all gotta get the fuck out,” Drake said, pointing to the door.
Hasan threw his hands up. “I ain’t even do shit and it’s my food on the floor.”
Erik snatched his jacket off a nearby chair and headed for the door.
Nick started to follow him but the other three stopped him.
“I ain’t saying you a bitch or nothin’, but why don’t you leave in like 10 minutes and we’ll just say it’s ’cause we can’t be havin’ our guys beatin’ on each other,” Hasan said. Drake and Byron nodded in agreement.
“I told you you should’ve tried to pull that football player card to cut the line,” Carla said as she rubbed her arms to try to warm up now that they were out of the cold.
“I don’t think that works if you’re not a pro,” he said for the fourth or fifth time.
It had been weeks since the two of them had had a chance to get together for some quality time between Devin’s grueling schedule and Carla’s increasing refusal to make any trips to Tulane’s campus. It didn’t take a relationship coach to say that they were beginning to drift apart.
“How many?” a tired looking hostess asked them.
“Two.”
“Four.”
Devin looked at Carla confused before she repeated four. The hostess rolled her eyes and grabbed four menus, beckoning for them to follow her.
“It’s just the two of us,” Devin said to Carla once they were seated in a booth toward the rear of the restaurant.
Carla took out her phone and tapped out a quick text message. “No, I asked Kaley to come so it’s four of us.”
“I’m not a mathematician or anything like that, but you, me and Kaley equals three people. And I’d say it’s pretty fucking awkward to have your cousin third wheeling with you on a date like we’re 14 years old.”
“More like a double date, because it’s going to be four of us.”
He sighed and opened the menu to find eclectic names of dishes that were meant to be different, but just came across as trying too hard. “I was hoping that we’d get to spend some time together just the two of us. It’s not like we see each other all that often.”
“Your bad. I’m not the one that has shit to do every hour of the fucking day.”
“C’mon, Carla. You don’t make it any easier when you refuse to come to me and I always have to go to you.”
“It’s funny. I know all these girls who have boyfriends at Loyola, Dillard, Xavier and all that play sports and their boyfriends make time for them.”
Devin chuckled. “No disrespect to them, but football in the SEC is a little different than NAIA sports at those schools.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Superstar. I guess I should be happy with you little bit of your time I do get since you’re in the SEC.”
“I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t want to argue. I’m just saying.”
“Saying you’re sorry and you’ll do better?”
“The season’s almost over.”
“And you’ll still have excuses.”
“For fuck’s sake, Carla. Cut me some fucking slack. You don’t have to be a fucking bi—“
Kaley appeared at the table, sliding into the booth opposite of them before a guy slid in next to her. “Hey. Sorry, we’re late. It was hell trying to find a parking spot.” She noticed the intense look Carla was giving Devin. “I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?”
“Just Devin giving me a piece of his mind,” Carla said. “Do you want to finish what you were going to say?”
He sighed and closed the menu, realizing he was about to put his foot in his mouth and deciding it would be better to change the subject. “Nope, I said all I wanted.”
Kaley’s date reached his hand across the table to Devin. “I’m Marshall. Y’all killed it out there yesterday against Alabama. It was like a fucking movie. I used to play football in high school, but I wasn’t nearly as good as y’all. Fucking shit was lit, bro.”
Devin dapped him up. “Yeah, it was a wild one. Glad we got the win. You go to Tulane?”
“Yeah. I tried to get out to Tuscaloosa, but the brothers only got so many tickets.”
“Brothers?”
“Fraternity,” Kaley answered.
“Yeah, bro. You should pledge. I know y’all typically like the Black ones, but we party way harder,” Marshall said. “We got a couple guys from the team in our chapter.”
“Devin’s too busy for all that. Aren’t you, Devin? Just football, football, football,” Carla said as she looked through the menu.
Devin picked his own menu back up and started browsing it again, trying to find something that sounded remotely appealing. “Yeah, not really my thing.”
“Let me know if you change your mind. I could hook you up. It looks good on a resume, and you get a lot of connections that other people don’t get. I know it won’t help you much in the NFL, but you know, for after,” Marshall said.
“Not what you know, but who you know and all that shit, huh?”
“Yeah. It’s the way of the world, bro.”
He decided to tune the three of them out as they started a new conversation. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of Déjà vu sitting across from Kaley on a date with Carla. It wasn’t that long ago that they were somehow on such an outing with Caesar, and he ended up in a brawl with Kaley’s then-boyfriend.
Fortunately for everyone, including Tulane’s PR team, the hot-headed receiver wouldn’t be joining them for this meal.
While he wasn’t well versed on Caesar’s personality, Devin had a feeling that he wouldn’t be too happy about Kaley moving on. And trying to decide if the Nawlins Atomic Kale Burger or Gator Aioli Mac and Cheese sounded more edible was more than enough turmoil for him after yesterday’s game.
A waitress walked up to their table.
“How y’all doing? My name’s Jennifer. Y’all got any questions about the menu before I get y’all started with some drinks?”
Devin looked up from the menu. “Do y’all have chicken? Like regular chicken? Like something I could get in the East?”
He could see Carla shaking her head out of the corner of his eye as the waitress leaned over to point out some options.
Grabbing his phone from the nightstand, he scrolled through the typical mass of notifications that always littered the home screen. In his younger days, he never understood why his father needed an assistant specifically to screen the calls and texts he received. Now, as he entered adulthood himself, he’d put getting an assistant at the top of the to-do list once he got to the NFL.
He scrolled through the social media profiles of a number of girls that had sent him DMs before deciding if he was going to answer them or not. It didn’t take long before he stopped feeling picky and copy-pasted the same message that had worked numerous times before to a couple dozen of them.
Something brought him to his call logs and the similar absurd number of missed calls. He flicked down the screen until he got to a number that was saved in his phone and pressed it.
The phone only rang twice before the line connected.
“You called?” he asked.
“Yeah, two fucking weeks ago,” Ron said from the other end.
Caesar shrugged to himself. “You know how it goes. I would say you probably don’t have time to do much of anything since you swimming in all kinds of pussy out there, but I remember you still trying to convince yourself that football the devil or some shit. They convince you to get together a whole group of players to go get shot in the ass or something?”
“I just wanted to call you to see how you were holding up with all that shit going on with your dad. I know you’re back out there, now, but you know. That’s some crazy shit to find out like that.”
“It is what it is. I’m over all that. Won’t matter in a couple years when I’m in the league, anyway. Having an illegitimate bastard as a brother is not even close to the worst thing that NFL teams have to deal with from their players.”
“I got you. I kinda figured, maybe hoped, that it might’ve given you some perspective about things. See that everything isn’t so black and white.”
“Perspective? Every time I talk to you these days, you’re on some fucking holier than thou shit, Ron. What perspective should I have gotten from this?”
Ron sighed. “I don’t fucking know, Caesar. Maybe that there’s more to life than playing football, partying and fucking bitches. My head would be all kinds of fucked up if someone told me I’ve had a brother for 18 years and the dude lived one state over the whole time.”
“It wasn’t but a couple years ago that you would’ve been right there with me, only focused on playing football, partying and fucking bitches. I could remind you about all the crazy shit you used to do if you need a refresher. You’re not fucking better than me.”
“Look, bro. I didn’t call you for an argument. I’m going to be heading to basic in a few months and I just wanted to reach out and make sure that you were doing alright. You might not want to admit it, but I know how you get sometimes, and I hope you’re surrounding yourself with a few people who actually care about you.”
“Man, fuck off with that sappy shit,” Caesar said, laughing. “Everyone sees me as a fucking meal ticket so I’m going to take advantage of that shit and eat, too.”
“I wouldn’t say everyone.”
“I said it before, but that Congressman’s daughter must got a fucking magical cunt on her because she got you on some other shit. I gotta go. Make sure y’all get to the national championship so I can get a win over you before you fuck up your life by fighting in a war we have no business in. Give ol’ girl my number so I can keep her company when you’re gone. Fly her out. Don’t they have a name for that shit? Jodie or something?”
“See you on the other side, bro.”
Caesar hung up the phone and tossed it back on the nightstand. It wasn’t lost on him who Ron was referring to when he said that not everyone saw him as meal ticket. Of course, Ron would’ve been wrong in that estimation.
He dragged a hand down his face, trying to stave off the headache that was beginning to form at the back of his eyes after that conversation. He couldn’t believe that Ron was really going to go through with throwing away a potential NFL career and millions of dollars to go roll around in piss and blood getting shot at.
Hopefully, he’d come to his senses before it was too late.
The door to the en-suite bathroom connected to the dorm room he was sitting in opened, and a girl wearing only a towel walked into the room.
“Did my roommate come back while I was showering?” she asked him.
“Nope.”
“That means she’s got a lab or something. You got a second round in you?” she asked before dropping the towel.
Caesar raised an eyebrow, admiring her body for a second time in the last couple of hours. “Do you think you can handle a round two, you mean.”
“How you up here bragging about some shit when you got scored on?”
“I popped his ass though! Motherfucker was looking out his ear hole on the ground.”
“But he fucking scored.”
Erik sat in the corner of the living room of one of his teammate’s apartment, rubbing at his eyes to try to stave off the headache that had been hammer away inside his skull for the last 30 minutes as the others in the room argued about their performances the night before.
There was one issue with all of the boasting and bravado — they’d lost.
LSU notched their sixth loss of the season. It was a real blow to the season after they’d won a couple in a row and looked like they were going to finish the season strong. With two games remaining, one against Texas A&M and the other against the undefeated Green Wave, it was becoming increasingly likely that the 2052 campaign would be ending a little early.
And as was the case in modern college football, an unsuccessful season meant players would start looking to put their names in the transfer portal to find greener pastures.
“Hey, E,” Drake called from the other side of the room, breaking him out of his thoughts. “What the women like in DFW, bruh? They bad? Got a call from some dude at SMU that said they interested in talking to me.”
Erik rubbed his temples. “SMU is like any other PWI, I guess. But there are millions of people there. There are sure to be some good looking bitches running around, especially with all the pro teams there.”
“Now why you askin’ him about places where white women at? You know my boy Erik likes our sisters,” Hasan said as he walked out of the kitchen with a plate in his hand that held three sandwiches and a pile of chips.
“Nigga, who told you that you could help yourself to my food?” Drake asked when Hasan sat down next to him.
“Don’t act like you pay for it, bruh. This shit free to me ‘cause it was free to you.”
“Triflin’ ass,” the receiver said. He motioned to Byron Roberts, one of the defensive backs on the team and who he shared the apartment with. “Byron, you tell them that you gonna put your name in the portal yet? Or you still thinking about hitting the draft instead and taking your chances with that?”
Byron shrugged. “I’m waiting to see what happens next week. I heard they gonna fire coach if we don’t win big so he might be in a lose-lose situation. You think them recruits staying if Justice go? Nah, I don’t know about all that. I might try to go somewhere it snow.”
“My problem with it is gettin’ in the portal and tryin’ to stay P5 and then you end up at fuckin’ UConn or some shit,” Hasan said. He gestured outside with his hand holding one of his sandwiches. “This about as cold as I want it to be where I am. Our ancestors ain’t have to deal with the cold and I ain’t going to be the one to start that.”
“It ain’t even that bad up north. Y’all just got low blood iron or whatever that anemia shit is that the bitches be having,” Nick Lynch, a sophomore linebacker from Illinois, said. He was the rare elite athlete from Chicago who was better placed on a football field than he was on a basketball court. “Fuck, the humidity alone be having me regretting come here all summer. It don’t help that y’all niggas fucking suck.”
“What do you mean y’all? You’re on the fucking team, too,” Erik said.
“Yeah, but it’s y’all who suck. I’m just keeping it a bean with y’all. Don’t take it the wrong way or anything. Just remember y’all knew me when I’m balling at Ohio State next year.”
“Unless you’re putting yourself on Ohio State on a video game then I don’t know how you’re playing for them because we’ve all seen you out there getting ran through like your mama used to in those trains. Choo choo, motherfucker.”
Nick tapped Byron on the shoulder and jabbed a thumb in Erik’s direction. “I know this wannabe thug, rich kid ain’t talking shit? If we all had our daddy helping us everyday and throwing money at all our problems, then we could be all nonchalant like him.”
Erik sprung up from the chair he was in and crossed the room to get in Nick’s face. “What the fuck you said?”
“Watch out, lil’ bitch. You not really built like that. Your daddy name might matter to other people and to you, but that shit don’t faze me. We all know you never had to struggle a da—“
Erik punched Nick in the face before he could finish his sentence, catching him off guard. He then grabbed him by the shirt and hit him a few more times before the others in the room managed to separate them.
“Nah, he grown. Let him go!” Erik shouted, trying to rip away from Hasan and Drake.
“Chill out, bro,” Hasan said, shoving Erik back with one hand while still holding his plate of food with the other. He was shocked to see this side of his roommate outside of the violence he exhibited on the football field.
“You lucky they between us. You can’t sucker punch me twice,” Nick said, wiping his lip to check for blood.
“Boy, fuck you,” Erik said, smacking the plate out of Hasan’s hand in Nick’s direction. “We can take this outside and see who was raised around real killers.”
Drake and Byron shared then glanced at the mess on the floor.
“Now all y’all gotta get the fuck out,” Drake said, pointing to the door.
Hasan threw his hands up. “I ain’t even do shit and it’s my food on the floor.”
Erik snatched his jacket off a nearby chair and headed for the door.
Nick started to follow him but the other three stopped him.
“I ain’t saying you a bitch or nothin’, but why don’t you leave in like 10 minutes and we’ll just say it’s ’cause we can’t be havin’ our guys beatin’ on each other,” Hasan said. Drake and Byron nodded in agreement.
-*****-
Devin and Carla stepped into a new, swanky brunch spot in the Marigny, having waited in line for the better part of an hour just to get to the door. It was just as Devin feared when he asked Carla to hang out and she suggested a trip there. It was packed thanks to the efforts of social media influencers, and it smelled too clean for the food to be quintessential New Orleans fare. “I told you you should’ve tried to pull that football player card to cut the line,” Carla said as she rubbed her arms to try to warm up now that they were out of the cold.
“I don’t think that works if you’re not a pro,” he said for the fourth or fifth time.
It had been weeks since the two of them had had a chance to get together for some quality time between Devin’s grueling schedule and Carla’s increasing refusal to make any trips to Tulane’s campus. It didn’t take a relationship coach to say that they were beginning to drift apart.
“How many?” a tired looking hostess asked them.
“Two.”
“Four.”
Devin looked at Carla confused before she repeated four. The hostess rolled her eyes and grabbed four menus, beckoning for them to follow her.
“It’s just the two of us,” Devin said to Carla once they were seated in a booth toward the rear of the restaurant.
Carla took out her phone and tapped out a quick text message. “No, I asked Kaley to come so it’s four of us.”
“I’m not a mathematician or anything like that, but you, me and Kaley equals three people. And I’d say it’s pretty fucking awkward to have your cousin third wheeling with you on a date like we’re 14 years old.”
“More like a double date, because it’s going to be four of us.”
He sighed and opened the menu to find eclectic names of dishes that were meant to be different, but just came across as trying too hard. “I was hoping that we’d get to spend some time together just the two of us. It’s not like we see each other all that often.”
“Your bad. I’m not the one that has shit to do every hour of the fucking day.”
“C’mon, Carla. You don’t make it any easier when you refuse to come to me and I always have to go to you.”
“It’s funny. I know all these girls who have boyfriends at Loyola, Dillard, Xavier and all that play sports and their boyfriends make time for them.”
Devin chuckled. “No disrespect to them, but football in the SEC is a little different than NAIA sports at those schools.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Superstar. I guess I should be happy with you little bit of your time I do get since you’re in the SEC.”
“I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t want to argue. I’m just saying.”
“Saying you’re sorry and you’ll do better?”
“The season’s almost over.”
“And you’ll still have excuses.”
“For fuck’s sake, Carla. Cut me some fucking slack. You don’t have to be a fucking bi—“
Kaley appeared at the table, sliding into the booth opposite of them before a guy slid in next to her. “Hey. Sorry, we’re late. It was hell trying to find a parking spot.” She noticed the intense look Carla was giving Devin. “I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?”
“Just Devin giving me a piece of his mind,” Carla said. “Do you want to finish what you were going to say?”
He sighed and closed the menu, realizing he was about to put his foot in his mouth and deciding it would be better to change the subject. “Nope, I said all I wanted.”
Kaley’s date reached his hand across the table to Devin. “I’m Marshall. Y’all killed it out there yesterday against Alabama. It was like a fucking movie. I used to play football in high school, but I wasn’t nearly as good as y’all. Fucking shit was lit, bro.”
Devin dapped him up. “Yeah, it was a wild one. Glad we got the win. You go to Tulane?”
“Yeah. I tried to get out to Tuscaloosa, but the brothers only got so many tickets.”
“Brothers?”
“Fraternity,” Kaley answered.
“Yeah, bro. You should pledge. I know y’all typically like the Black ones, but we party way harder,” Marshall said. “We got a couple guys from the team in our chapter.”
“Devin’s too busy for all that. Aren’t you, Devin? Just football, football, football,” Carla said as she looked through the menu.
Devin picked his own menu back up and started browsing it again, trying to find something that sounded remotely appealing. “Yeah, not really my thing.”
“Let me know if you change your mind. I could hook you up. It looks good on a resume, and you get a lot of connections that other people don’t get. I know it won’t help you much in the NFL, but you know, for after,” Marshall said.
“Not what you know, but who you know and all that shit, huh?”
“Yeah. It’s the way of the world, bro.”
He decided to tune the three of them out as they started a new conversation. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of Déjà vu sitting across from Kaley on a date with Carla. It wasn’t that long ago that they were somehow on such an outing with Caesar, and he ended up in a brawl with Kaley’s then-boyfriend.
Fortunately for everyone, including Tulane’s PR team, the hot-headed receiver wouldn’t be joining them for this meal.
While he wasn’t well versed on Caesar’s personality, Devin had a feeling that he wouldn’t be too happy about Kaley moving on. And trying to decide if the Nawlins Atomic Kale Burger or Gator Aioli Mac and Cheese sounded more edible was more than enough turmoil for him after yesterday’s game.
A waitress walked up to their table.
“How y’all doing? My name’s Jennifer. Y’all got any questions about the menu before I get y’all started with some drinks?”
Devin looked up from the menu. “Do y’all have chicken? Like regular chicken? Like something I could get in the East?”
He could see Carla shaking her head out of the corner of his eye as the waitress leaned over to point out some options.
-*****-
Caesar threw his legs over the side of the bed, leaning down to grab a stray t-shirt off the floor. He used it to wipe the sweat from his face and chest before throwing it across the room. Grabbing his phone from the nightstand, he scrolled through the typical mass of notifications that always littered the home screen. In his younger days, he never understood why his father needed an assistant specifically to screen the calls and texts he received. Now, as he entered adulthood himself, he’d put getting an assistant at the top of the to-do list once he got to the NFL.
He scrolled through the social media profiles of a number of girls that had sent him DMs before deciding if he was going to answer them or not. It didn’t take long before he stopped feeling picky and copy-pasted the same message that had worked numerous times before to a couple dozen of them.
Something brought him to his call logs and the similar absurd number of missed calls. He flicked down the screen until he got to a number that was saved in his phone and pressed it.
The phone only rang twice before the line connected.
“You called?” he asked.
“Yeah, two fucking weeks ago,” Ron said from the other end.
Caesar shrugged to himself. “You know how it goes. I would say you probably don’t have time to do much of anything since you swimming in all kinds of pussy out there, but I remember you still trying to convince yourself that football the devil or some shit. They convince you to get together a whole group of players to go get shot in the ass or something?”
“I just wanted to call you to see how you were holding up with all that shit going on with your dad. I know you’re back out there, now, but you know. That’s some crazy shit to find out like that.”
“It is what it is. I’m over all that. Won’t matter in a couple years when I’m in the league, anyway. Having an illegitimate bastard as a brother is not even close to the worst thing that NFL teams have to deal with from their players.”
“I got you. I kinda figured, maybe hoped, that it might’ve given you some perspective about things. See that everything isn’t so black and white.”
“Perspective? Every time I talk to you these days, you’re on some fucking holier than thou shit, Ron. What perspective should I have gotten from this?”
Ron sighed. “I don’t fucking know, Caesar. Maybe that there’s more to life than playing football, partying and fucking bitches. My head would be all kinds of fucked up if someone told me I’ve had a brother for 18 years and the dude lived one state over the whole time.”
“It wasn’t but a couple years ago that you would’ve been right there with me, only focused on playing football, partying and fucking bitches. I could remind you about all the crazy shit you used to do if you need a refresher. You’re not fucking better than me.”
“Look, bro. I didn’t call you for an argument. I’m going to be heading to basic in a few months and I just wanted to reach out and make sure that you were doing alright. You might not want to admit it, but I know how you get sometimes, and I hope you’re surrounding yourself with a few people who actually care about you.”
“Man, fuck off with that sappy shit,” Caesar said, laughing. “Everyone sees me as a fucking meal ticket so I’m going to take advantage of that shit and eat, too.”
“I wouldn’t say everyone.”
“I said it before, but that Congressman’s daughter must got a fucking magical cunt on her because she got you on some other shit. I gotta go. Make sure y’all get to the national championship so I can get a win over you before you fuck up your life by fighting in a war we have no business in. Give ol’ girl my number so I can keep her company when you’re gone. Fly her out. Don’t they have a name for that shit? Jodie or something?”
“See you on the other side, bro.”
Caesar hung up the phone and tossed it back on the nightstand. It wasn’t lost on him who Ron was referring to when he said that not everyone saw him as meal ticket. Of course, Ron would’ve been wrong in that estimation.
He dragged a hand down his face, trying to stave off the headache that was beginning to form at the back of his eyes after that conversation. He couldn’t believe that Ron was really going to go through with throwing away a potential NFL career and millions of dollars to go roll around in piss and blood getting shot at.
Hopefully, he’d come to his senses before it was too late.
The door to the en-suite bathroom connected to the dorm room he was sitting in opened, and a girl wearing only a towel walked into the room.
“Did my roommate come back while I was showering?” she asked him.
“Nope.”
“That means she’s got a lab or something. You got a second round in you?” she asked before dropping the towel.
Caesar raised an eyebrow, admiring her body for a second time in the last couple of hours. “Do you think you can handle a round two, you mean.”
War of the Roses: Redux Edition
The Shadows are Long
Caesar stared at the now cold cup of coffee in his hands. An hour ago when he’d arrived to his father’s high-rise office in the CBD, the beverage was much warmer and still gave off the aroma of a brew that required special knowledge to acquire and the money to make it all happen.
Now, it was just black liquid like any other coffee.
He’d never considered himself a coffee drinker, but when the assistant sitting at the desk across from him all but demanded that he take the cup, he decided to not make a big deal out of it. After all, she was right in guessing that it would be a while before his father was able to see him.
Yet, despite her ability to predict Deion Jenkins’ schedule, she seemingly refused to tell Caesar why he’d been summoned to the rarely-used New Orleans location of his father’s agency. Judging from how young she looked, she was likely following orders to a T when told what to do upon Caesar’s arrival to impress her new bosses.
A part of him, albeit a small one, wanted to get up and leave, feeling as though his time was being wasted. He could be doing something, anything, before practice and instead he was wasting it away staring at that cold coffee and waiting.
After sitting and waiting for another 25 minutes, the door to the conference room behind the assistant’s desk opened. Three of his father’s partners exited along with a bevy of lawyer and accountant types. Deion followed behind them, texting on one phone while reading something on another.
“Your son’s here, sir,” the assistant said, gesturing to Caesar.
It was another few minutes before Deion looked up. He turned back to the conference room, still texting. “About time,” he said over his shoulder. “You were supposed to be here an hour ago.”
Caesar placed the cup of coffee on a nearby table before standing up to follow his father into the conference room. On a dry-erase board at the far side of the room was a list of dozens of college football players and the years they’d become eligible for the draft.
The top of the 2055 list stood out to Caesar. First was his name, written as “C. Jenkins,” and under that was “E. Jenkins.”
It reminded him that this was the first time he would be speaking to his father since news came out that he’d fathered an illegitimate child outside of his marriage to Caesar’s mother.
Deion sat down at the head of the table, a move that looked to be more out of habit than any calculated decision. He looked up at Caesar and motioned for him to sit down at the table.
But Caesar was still staring at the white board.
“Either sit down and let’s get on with what I called you here for or spit out whatever it is that has you about to cry, boy,” the elder Jenkins said.
“Why’d you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Cheat on Ma. It never seemed to me that y’all had that bad of a relationship.”
Deion looked at his son for a moment before started to laugh. “That’s rich coming from you when you’re out here fucking a new sack chaser every other day. It’s only by the grace of modern medicine that you don’t have five or six kids of your own. Or, shit, your own dumb luck because I doubt that leech you’re with is on birth control.”
“I’m not with Kaley anymore.”
“Oh? About time you do something that makes some fucking sense. You can’t go pick up white trash and expect it to not start digging in your pockets trying to find a way out of the trailer park.”
Caesar sat down at the opposite end of the conference table. It felt like those old pictures of Vladimir Putin with how far apart the two of them seemed to be.
“So, why did you, though?” he asked.
“I did what I did and that’s all there is to it. You’re a grown man. I expect you to act like one about this whole situation. You know the truth now and we can move on with our lives. Just let Erik’s mother be another cautionary tale for you. We wouldn’t have been in that mess if it wasn’t for her dumbass.”
Caesar had a momentary thought to push the issue, and to ask why his father didn’t reveal to him that he had a half-brother for all these years. After all, from what he understood, Erik knew about his existence. It seemed odd that Caesar wasn’t given the same information.
It almost made him question if his father had any more children out there. But then again, Deion Jenkins was too calculating to make the same mistake more than once.
He also knew when to leave well enough alone, and once that moment passed he knew that it was time to drop the subject.
“That’s actually why I asked you to come here today. You and Erik are both finalists for awards next month. It doesn’t make sense to keep hiding the connection between the two of you when he openly talks about it. So, we’re all going to go to New York as one big, happy family,” Deion said, looking at his phones when they both lit up with notifications. “Figured since I was here on business I would just tell you in person.”
“What’s Ma got to say about that?”
“It doesn’t fucking matter. She can start telling me what to do when she is the breadwinner in the family. Until then, I expect you to be an adult about the situation and do as you’re told. There’s a chance Erik is on a top 10 trajectory, you’re already top 3 and I stand to lose a lot if you go viral for being a dickhead.”
The statement “I stand to lose” didn’t go over Caesar’s head, but he didn’t have the desire to push the issue. If his father wanted to take his Make-a-Wish kid of a son to New York City then Caesar would go along with the plan.
“Now, get out. I have a meeting starting in 10 minutes. Try not to have embarrass us out there against Mississippi State Saturday,” Deion said, dismissing Caesar with a wave of his hand.
Pushing away from the table, Caesar stood up and headed for the door.
“Oh, and Caesar.”
He stopped and turned around.
His father looked up from his phone. “I know you’re an idiot behind pussy, so I’m going to give you some fatherly advice. It wasn’t that good. Don’t go running back to that girl. If she comes back, it’ll just be because that fee bill is due and her parents picking up a couple extra shifts at the Piggly Wiggly put her over the line for financial aid.”
“Got it,” Caesar said with a nod.
As he walked out of the room, the same army of lawyers and accountants brushed past him followed by his father’s partners.
“Coffee for the road?” the assistant asked him, holding up a fresh cup of coffee.
Caesar looked at the cup for a moment before taking it as he headed for the elevators.
Devin leaned his head against the back of the elevator as it carried him up to the fifth floor. His dufflebag rested at his feet; the strap hanging limply in his hand. All he wanted to do was collapse into his bed and sleep for a few days.
After initially struggling to get acclimated to the grind of the college football life, he’d found himself getting a second wind around the middle of the season. Things seemed to get easier, and he settled into a routine.
However, with only two regular season games remaining, his body was beginning to feel as if it was hitting a wall.
And the thought that Tulane could have as many as two more games beyond the regular season only made him more tired. He couldn’t wait for the spring semester when he could have a few months as just a student around the handful of weeks of spring practice.
The elevator door slid open and Devin all but dragged his bag down the hall toward his room. A couple of guys walked out of a room ahead of him with boxes filled with cheap liquor and a bag of hard seltzers. The three of them nodded at one another as they passed each other in the hall.
The thought of a party or get together on a Wednesday night only made Devin more tired. It also confirmed his earlier thought about his excitement for the spring. There were levels to being tired and “going to class” tired and “coming back from practice” tired weren’t even in the same realm of tired.
Walking into his room, he slid the bag against the wall before plopping down on the edge of his bed to kick his slides in the corner on top of the bag. Laying back on the bed, he fished his phone out of his pocket to spend a couple hours watching random social media videos before calling it a night.
Glancing at the icons at the bottom of the screen, he noticed he had 14 missed calls – an oddity given few people called him instead opting for texts or DMs. Pressing the icon, he saw all the calls were from his parents. He tapped their contact to call them back.
The line connected almost immediately.
“Devin, we’ve been calling you for hours. Where have you been?” his mother asked, some of her first words being clipped as Devin moved the phone to his ear.
“Practice.”
“I told y’all that he was at practice 40 times. It’s almost like I went through all of this before, too,” his grandfather said, his voice sounding as if it was on the opposite side of the room from where his mother was sitting.
Devin sat up, confused as to why his grandfather would be in the same place as his parents this late at night. He reached over and clicked his desk lamp on in hopes that the light would shake some of the cobwebs and fogginess from his brain.
“Are you somewhere you can talk privately?” his mother asked.
“I’m in my room. What’s going on?”
His father’s voice came across the line. “What about your roommate? This is something that no one can hear.”
“Not here,” Devin said, glancing over at Caesar’s side of the room and then the door. He knew it was unlikely that Caesar would show up anytime soon despite both of them leaving from the same place less than an hour ago.
“Son, we’ve got some bad news to share with you. I don’t think any of us could’ve expected this to actually happen,” his father said.
“No one’s sick or anything,” his mother quickly added.
Devin sighed. The best doctors in the state were in New Orleans, anyway. And at Tulane. He wasn’t worried about news of illness given the best place to get treated was just down the road from where he was.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Just spit the shit out,” his grandfather said, anger in his voice. “The feds ransacked my house this afternoon. Claiming it was part of some investigation. They’re trying to tell me that I didn’t make my money on the up and up.”
“What your grandfather is trying to say is that he’s been informed that he’s being investigated for business fraud,” his father said, pausing briefly. “And not paying his damn taxes for twenty years.”
“Sheesh,” was all Devin could muster as a response.
It was a shock to the system to hear that his grandfather hadn’t paid his taxes in two decades. He hadn’t been alive for twenty years yet. While he wasn’t sure how much his grandfather was pulling in in his old age, he knew that had to be a hefty amount of money.
“Thanks for letting me know,” Devin said after a few moments. “Keep me posted on what happens with that. I gotta get some rest.”
“We didn’t call you just to tell you,” his grandfather said. “I need your damn help.”
“We’ve been looking at our finances trying to figure out if we can afford a good attorney for your grandfather’s case. I don’t know where we’re going to come up with the money,” his mother said.
He heard his father sigh. “I know you keep your finances separate from the account we set up for you as a kid, but I also know you’ve signed some brand deals over the last few months. We need you to contribute to getting an attorney.”
“Don’t forget that revenue split he gets in January,” his grandfather said.
“Hold the fuck up,” Devin said, some anger seeping into his words. “It wasn’t but a year ago that y’all were mad that I was going to college to play football. A year before that y’all didn’t want me to play football at all. Now, y’all want my money from playing fucking football?”
“The vulgarity isn’t necessary,” his mother said.
“It’s very fucking necessary. I wouldn’t even be in this position if I listened to y’all.”
“Hey, now,” his grandfather said. “I always supported you playing football. Don’t come at me with that shit that your daddy was on. This affects all of us. If I gotta stand trial, the headlines ‘Devin King on trial for fraud’ hits you, too. That’s your name.”
Devin ran his hand down his face. “Nah, fuck this. I can’t deal with this shit right now.”
Before his family could respond, he hung up the phone and turned it off. He rubbed at his temples with his thumbs before standing up. He went to his closet, grabbed a towel and his shower shoes and left the room.
Caesar stared at the now cold cup of coffee in his hands. An hour ago when he’d arrived to his father’s high-rise office in the CBD, the beverage was much warmer and still gave off the aroma of a brew that required special knowledge to acquire and the money to make it all happen.
Now, it was just black liquid like any other coffee.
He’d never considered himself a coffee drinker, but when the assistant sitting at the desk across from him all but demanded that he take the cup, he decided to not make a big deal out of it. After all, she was right in guessing that it would be a while before his father was able to see him.
Yet, despite her ability to predict Deion Jenkins’ schedule, she seemingly refused to tell Caesar why he’d been summoned to the rarely-used New Orleans location of his father’s agency. Judging from how young she looked, she was likely following orders to a T when told what to do upon Caesar’s arrival to impress her new bosses.
A part of him, albeit a small one, wanted to get up and leave, feeling as though his time was being wasted. He could be doing something, anything, before practice and instead he was wasting it away staring at that cold coffee and waiting.
After sitting and waiting for another 25 minutes, the door to the conference room behind the assistant’s desk opened. Three of his father’s partners exited along with a bevy of lawyer and accountant types. Deion followed behind them, texting on one phone while reading something on another.
“Your son’s here, sir,” the assistant said, gesturing to Caesar.
It was another few minutes before Deion looked up. He turned back to the conference room, still texting. “About time,” he said over his shoulder. “You were supposed to be here an hour ago.”
Caesar placed the cup of coffee on a nearby table before standing up to follow his father into the conference room. On a dry-erase board at the far side of the room was a list of dozens of college football players and the years they’d become eligible for the draft.
The top of the 2055 list stood out to Caesar. First was his name, written as “C. Jenkins,” and under that was “E. Jenkins.”
It reminded him that this was the first time he would be speaking to his father since news came out that he’d fathered an illegitimate child outside of his marriage to Caesar’s mother.
Deion sat down at the head of the table, a move that looked to be more out of habit than any calculated decision. He looked up at Caesar and motioned for him to sit down at the table.
But Caesar was still staring at the white board.
“Either sit down and let’s get on with what I called you here for or spit out whatever it is that has you about to cry, boy,” the elder Jenkins said.
“Why’d you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Cheat on Ma. It never seemed to me that y’all had that bad of a relationship.”
Deion looked at his son for a moment before started to laugh. “That’s rich coming from you when you’re out here fucking a new sack chaser every other day. It’s only by the grace of modern medicine that you don’t have five or six kids of your own. Or, shit, your own dumb luck because I doubt that leech you’re with is on birth control.”
“I’m not with Kaley anymore.”
“Oh? About time you do something that makes some fucking sense. You can’t go pick up white trash and expect it to not start digging in your pockets trying to find a way out of the trailer park.”
Caesar sat down at the opposite end of the conference table. It felt like those old pictures of Vladimir Putin with how far apart the two of them seemed to be.
“So, why did you, though?” he asked.
“I did what I did and that’s all there is to it. You’re a grown man. I expect you to act like one about this whole situation. You know the truth now and we can move on with our lives. Just let Erik’s mother be another cautionary tale for you. We wouldn’t have been in that mess if it wasn’t for her dumbass.”
Caesar had a momentary thought to push the issue, and to ask why his father didn’t reveal to him that he had a half-brother for all these years. After all, from what he understood, Erik knew about his existence. It seemed odd that Caesar wasn’t given the same information.
It almost made him question if his father had any more children out there. But then again, Deion Jenkins was too calculating to make the same mistake more than once.
He also knew when to leave well enough alone, and once that moment passed he knew that it was time to drop the subject.
“That’s actually why I asked you to come here today. You and Erik are both finalists for awards next month. It doesn’t make sense to keep hiding the connection between the two of you when he openly talks about it. So, we’re all going to go to New York as one big, happy family,” Deion said, looking at his phones when they both lit up with notifications. “Figured since I was here on business I would just tell you in person.”
“What’s Ma got to say about that?”
“It doesn’t fucking matter. She can start telling me what to do when she is the breadwinner in the family. Until then, I expect you to be an adult about the situation and do as you’re told. There’s a chance Erik is on a top 10 trajectory, you’re already top 3 and I stand to lose a lot if you go viral for being a dickhead.”
The statement “I stand to lose” didn’t go over Caesar’s head, but he didn’t have the desire to push the issue. If his father wanted to take his Make-a-Wish kid of a son to New York City then Caesar would go along with the plan.
“Now, get out. I have a meeting starting in 10 minutes. Try not to have embarrass us out there against Mississippi State Saturday,” Deion said, dismissing Caesar with a wave of his hand.
Pushing away from the table, Caesar stood up and headed for the door.
“Oh, and Caesar.”
He stopped and turned around.
His father looked up from his phone. “I know you’re an idiot behind pussy, so I’m going to give you some fatherly advice. It wasn’t that good. Don’t go running back to that girl. If she comes back, it’ll just be because that fee bill is due and her parents picking up a couple extra shifts at the Piggly Wiggly put her over the line for financial aid.”
“Got it,” Caesar said with a nod.
As he walked out of the room, the same army of lawyers and accountants brushed past him followed by his father’s partners.
“Coffee for the road?” the assistant asked him, holding up a fresh cup of coffee.
Caesar looked at the cup for a moment before taking it as he headed for the elevators.
-*****-
Devin leaned his head against the back of the elevator as it carried him up to the fifth floor. His dufflebag rested at his feet; the strap hanging limply in his hand. All he wanted to do was collapse into his bed and sleep for a few days.
After initially struggling to get acclimated to the grind of the college football life, he’d found himself getting a second wind around the middle of the season. Things seemed to get easier, and he settled into a routine.
However, with only two regular season games remaining, his body was beginning to feel as if it was hitting a wall.
And the thought that Tulane could have as many as two more games beyond the regular season only made him more tired. He couldn’t wait for the spring semester when he could have a few months as just a student around the handful of weeks of spring practice.
The elevator door slid open and Devin all but dragged his bag down the hall toward his room. A couple of guys walked out of a room ahead of him with boxes filled with cheap liquor and a bag of hard seltzers. The three of them nodded at one another as they passed each other in the hall.
The thought of a party or get together on a Wednesday night only made Devin more tired. It also confirmed his earlier thought about his excitement for the spring. There were levels to being tired and “going to class” tired and “coming back from practice” tired weren’t even in the same realm of tired.
Walking into his room, he slid the bag against the wall before plopping down on the edge of his bed to kick his slides in the corner on top of the bag. Laying back on the bed, he fished his phone out of his pocket to spend a couple hours watching random social media videos before calling it a night.
Glancing at the icons at the bottom of the screen, he noticed he had 14 missed calls – an oddity given few people called him instead opting for texts or DMs. Pressing the icon, he saw all the calls were from his parents. He tapped their contact to call them back.
The line connected almost immediately.
“Devin, we’ve been calling you for hours. Where have you been?” his mother asked, some of her first words being clipped as Devin moved the phone to his ear.
“Practice.”
“I told y’all that he was at practice 40 times. It’s almost like I went through all of this before, too,” his grandfather said, his voice sounding as if it was on the opposite side of the room from where his mother was sitting.
Devin sat up, confused as to why his grandfather would be in the same place as his parents this late at night. He reached over and clicked his desk lamp on in hopes that the light would shake some of the cobwebs and fogginess from his brain.
“Are you somewhere you can talk privately?” his mother asked.
“I’m in my room. What’s going on?”
His father’s voice came across the line. “What about your roommate? This is something that no one can hear.”
“Not here,” Devin said, glancing over at Caesar’s side of the room and then the door. He knew it was unlikely that Caesar would show up anytime soon despite both of them leaving from the same place less than an hour ago.
“Son, we’ve got some bad news to share with you. I don’t think any of us could’ve expected this to actually happen,” his father said.
“No one’s sick or anything,” his mother quickly added.
Devin sighed. The best doctors in the state were in New Orleans, anyway. And at Tulane. He wasn’t worried about news of illness given the best place to get treated was just down the road from where he was.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Just spit the shit out,” his grandfather said, anger in his voice. “The feds ransacked my house this afternoon. Claiming it was part of some investigation. They’re trying to tell me that I didn’t make my money on the up and up.”
“What your grandfather is trying to say is that he’s been informed that he’s being investigated for business fraud,” his father said, pausing briefly. “And not paying his damn taxes for twenty years.”
“Sheesh,” was all Devin could muster as a response.
It was a shock to the system to hear that his grandfather hadn’t paid his taxes in two decades. He hadn’t been alive for twenty years yet. While he wasn’t sure how much his grandfather was pulling in in his old age, he knew that had to be a hefty amount of money.
“Thanks for letting me know,” Devin said after a few moments. “Keep me posted on what happens with that. I gotta get some rest.”
“We didn’t call you just to tell you,” his grandfather said. “I need your damn help.”
“We’ve been looking at our finances trying to figure out if we can afford a good attorney for your grandfather’s case. I don’t know where we’re going to come up with the money,” his mother said.
He heard his father sigh. “I know you keep your finances separate from the account we set up for you as a kid, but I also know you’ve signed some brand deals over the last few months. We need you to contribute to getting an attorney.”
“Don’t forget that revenue split he gets in January,” his grandfather said.
“Hold the fuck up,” Devin said, some anger seeping into his words. “It wasn’t but a year ago that y’all were mad that I was going to college to play football. A year before that y’all didn’t want me to play football at all. Now, y’all want my money from playing fucking football?”
“The vulgarity isn’t necessary,” his mother said.
“It’s very fucking necessary. I wouldn’t even be in this position if I listened to y’all.”
“Hey, now,” his grandfather said. “I always supported you playing football. Don’t come at me with that shit that your daddy was on. This affects all of us. If I gotta stand trial, the headlines ‘Devin King on trial for fraud’ hits you, too. That’s your name.”
Devin ran his hand down his face. “Nah, fuck this. I can’t deal with this shit right now.”
Before his family could respond, he hung up the phone and turned it off. He rubbed at his temples with his thumbs before standing up. He went to his closet, grabbed a towel and his shower shoes and left the room.
-
Captain Canada
- Posts: 4972
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
War of the Roses: Redux Edition
Them money grabbers out and about in year one 