The Playmaker

NOVA

Game day is so much more than I ever expected. As an undergraduate at UGA, I was only able to attend one game per year due to my work schedule, and I thought ~that~ was incredible.

However, looking out at the thousands of fans, I’ve never felt such an overwhelming, electric atmosphere.

Just yesterday, the field looked so different, empty compared to how it looks now with players and refs standing on the sidelines.

At four-foot-eleven, I feel out of place standing next to the gigantic mammoth-looking men clad in pads and helmets.

I glance over to the opposite end of the sidelines to see if I can spot Lily, but I’m just too short. Even most of the cheerleaders are nearly a full foot taller than I am.

We’re currently in the second quarter, and much to my and the team’s dismay, Baltimore is leading twenty-one to seven.

While we still have time to come back, it doesn’t seem likely so long as Maxwell continues to run the ball.

Despite the entire last week of practice and yesterday’s walk-throughs, Maxwell has yet to call a single one of the pass plays coach Rodney installed earlier in the week, and as a result, much of the offense is not happy with their QB1.

I don’t blame them, either. Baltimore has an incredibly strong defense, and so far, none of our running backs have been able to get farther than just a few yards at a time, if that.

After Lucas is brought down almost as soon as Maxwell hands off the ball on the third down, I nearly jump when Rodney throws his clipboard at his feet.

The last fifteen seconds of the clock run out, and the offense is shooting daggers at Garland.

I don’t say anything as I follow Coach Winters and Rodney through the tunnel and into the locker room.

I shouldn’t feel bad for Maxwell, considering he’s been a complete dick to me, but for some odd reason, I do.

If we have even a prayer of coming back in this game, I have to get through to him somehow.

While Coach berates the offense, I pull out my iPad, and after searching through YouTube, I find what I’m looking for and pause the video.

I wait for Winters to finish his speech and tap Rodney on the shoulder. He turns to me expectantly and raises an eyebrow.

“I need to borrow Garland for like five minutes,” I tell him.

Rodney nods and whispers something to Winters before nodding to me.

Tucking the tablet beneath my arm, I walk over to Garland’s locker where he’s sitting, and I’m not surprised when he greets me with an eye roll.

“Not in the mood, Mother Teresa,” he grumbles, not taking his eyes off his coach.

“Not interested. Get up.” I’ve had it with his shit attitude, and I make my voice stern. He’s going to listen, or I’m going to figure out how to make him.

“Who the f—”

“Five minutes... Give me five minutes. If you don’t score in the first five minutes of the third, I’ll quit.”

Maxwell snorts, and for the first time turns to look at me. I know he’s searching for any sign that I’m joking, but he won’t find any.

“Five minutes?” He raises his brow and I nod. Just then, Maxwell breaks out into a wide grin and stands abruptly.

“Five minutes,” he agrees.

I push through the double doors, and he follows me into the hallway. Ignoring his skeptical looks, I whip out my iPad and play the video for him to watch.

It goes on for two and a half minutes, and when it’s over, the mirth in his eyes has transformed to annoyance and confusion.

“I don’t get it. How is a highlight reel of Baltimore supposed to help me score?”

“I tried to figure out why you’re so afraid of passing, and I realized that I had it wrong. You’re not afraid. You’re terrified.”

“I’m no—”

I hold up my hand.

“I’m not finished. Last year, you tore your rotator cuff, which is the injury pretty much everyone focused on during your season, but I saw the medical charts.

“You didn’t just hurt your shoulder. You thought you had nerve damage and partial paralysis in your throwing arm.

“The doctor noted you couldn’t move your fingers the first two days you were in the hospital.”

“How do you know that?”

“Not important. What is important is that whatever mental block you have going on right now is severely affecting your team, and you’ve got to get over it.

“I realize you played backup to someone for four years, but you have to get used to being number one, because people are relying on you.”

For the first time, something other than pure disdain flickers in those bottomless gray eyes of Maxwell’s. He’s acknowledging that I’m right.

“All right. I get it. But what does the highlight have to do with this?”

I smile brightly and rewind the video to a particular spot.

“All right... See how their Sam always penetrates through the C gap to come in for the sack on a blitz play? Okay... So he’s my favorite because he’s got a tell.”

“A tell?”

I nod enthusiastically.

“You can’t see it unless you’re paying attention, but before a blitz play he uh... flexes his hands and then crosses the index over his middle finger. I have my theories... but I think it’s a prayer.”

“A prayer?”

“That he doesn’t hurt the quarterback. Hayward’s extremely religious, and in his junior year at Bama, he seriously injured Allen Richards, that one QB from Ohio State.

“It’s sweet, but I think he prays for you guys.”

“Isn’t that cute.”

“Says the man running the ball the entire first half of the game because he’s afraid to get hit.” I raise my brow at him.

“I deserved that.”

“No. You deserve so much worse... Good thing I’m Mother Teresa, though.” I snort, rolling my eyes.

“All right, Garland. I’m done with you. Watch for the blitz, and for the love of God, please declare the Mike.

“It’s a little high school, but every time the defense’s middle and strongside linebackers come for your right tackle and guard, Miles tends to run a hot route.

“If you re-declare the Mike, he knows to stay in his route, and everyone else knows who to block.”

Maxwell chuckles and shakes his head. “Where did they dig you up?”

I walk backward toward the locker room and smirk. “Decatur.”

With that, I open the doors and return to my place behind the coaches. Inhaling a large breath, I say a silent prayer that Maxwell finds courage from somewhere and helps his team come back.

Because without him, they’re screwed.