“That run got me hard,” Darryl groans.
“Me too,” Hammer agrees.
“Dick’s in hand,” Masters confirms.
Finally, Hammer pushes away. “Someone shut that porn off. I can only get so erect.”
He collapses on the bed and looks at the ceiling. Darryl looks confused, but Masters catches on right away.
“Is Coach recruiting this kid?” He jerks a thumb at the computer screen.
“Has recruited. Has a commitment. Wants me to smooth his path.”
“What about Ace?” asks Darryl. He’s not the brightest crayon in the box, but he is one of the best run busters in the country.
Masters strokes his chin. “Recruit has a better arm than Ace. Makes decent decisions on the field. Ace’s primary skill is not making mistakes, keeping a cool head, and seeing the short option down the field.”
Last year, the few explosive, big-time passes came courtesy of our running back, Ahmed Strong, who averaged eleven yards after the catch—meaning he caught short passes and muscled his way down the field for a ton of extra yards.
“We wouldn’t have won the National title without Ace.” I feel the need to defend him. He is our quarterback, after all. “He’s smart and had only a few fumbles and a handful of interceptions.”
“But the strength of the Warrior team is in this room,” Masters points out. “And you lost two starting offensive linemen who are being replaced by sophomores and juniors.”
We all fall silent. Last year’s team had seven first team All-Americans, six of whom were on the defense. Ahmed was the only decorated offensive player. The new offensive line might be even worse than it was this year.
But we won last year because our defense didn’t allow people to score. We were big and mean and tough up front, so Ace didn’t need to be a superstar. We needed him to hold on to the ball, not turn it over too often, and make a few first downs. He did all that.
Introducing a high octane offense might change our dynamic, change the whole makeup of our team. I’m not convinced it’s the right move.
“What’s this got to do with you?” Darryl asks.
I exchange a grim look with Masters. He gives me a sympathetic glance but remains silent, his eyes telling me this is my show now.
The defensive unit operates near flawlessly because we’re so tuned into each other. When one person is out of sync, like the time that Masters and Ellie were fighting and he played like utter shit, we struggle. If we want to repeat as National Championship winners next year, we need to work as one unit.
That means everyone has to support the choice of quarterback.
I give my neck one last squeeze and then drop my hands to my sides. “Coach is going to make this change regardless of whether we’re on board, but he wants us to be supportive. I think if the team stood behind Ace, Coach wouldn’t start this guy. He’d let Ace play until we lost. And when we lose, the loss will be on our shoulders and not his.” Masters nods in agreement. I continue for Darryl and Hammer, in case they haven’t fully grasped what a shit show our team could turn into. “Coach wants me to persuade Ace to move so that the switch from him to the new guy is bloodless. No unhappy, anonymous leaks; no sock puppet forum posts; no rumors of locker room dissension.”
“Why not move Ace to backup?” Hammer asks.
I sigh because I don’t know for sure. “Coach didn’t share his reasoning with me, but if I had to guess, this is a way to make nice for Ace. He still plays, plus he positions himself better for the draft. No one is drafting Ace at the QB position.”
Everyone falls silent because while we all know it’s true, it’s not the kind of thing we like saying out loud.
“The minute Mr. Texas announces, all those sports guys are going to be talking about what this means for our future anyway,” Darryl points out, finally catching on.
“Not if Ace is willing to move to safety. No controversy, just a celebration.” Which is what Coach wants. Even though the screen has gone dark, the plays the high school quarterback made keep running through my mind. I make one last-ditch effort at convincing my friends that Mr. Texas is not the golden child. “We watched an admittedly great high school player, but so what? Every starter on Western was the best high school player in their division. Good high school stats mean squat in college.”
The guys all exchange looks and then Hammer speaks first. “You got to do it, man. An arm like that, even on a true freshman, could be the difference between a perfect season and a one-loss season. With our defense and an awesome quarterback, we would be unbeatable.”
Darryl nods slowly. The idea of having a little less pressure on the defense is appealing. “We should at least give him a chance. Have them fight it out during the summer.”
“A quarterback controversy?” Hammer balks. “Who are you—Rex Ryan?”
“The noise level would be insane. Press would be contacting all of you guys nonstop about which quarterback you supported. Emails. DMs. You don’t want that kind of distraction,” Masters says. He turns to me. “You’re the signal caller for the defense now. You gotta call this one.”
“Coach hasn’t said that’ll be my responsibility,” I object. I haven’t even decided it should be my responsibility regardless of what Masters is trying to silently project.
The videos have started replaying, but I’ve watched about as much Mr. Texas as I can stomach. I reach over and flick the computer off.