Chapter 4: Chapter 4: Another Day, Another Grind
"Ring! Ring! Ring! Ring!". My feet hit the floor the moment my alarm goes off. I put on my school uniform, and hurry to the laundry room to pack up my now-clean football equipment. After I finish that, I get to work making breakfast for myself. Twelve scrambled eggs with bacon and cheddar cheese with a plate of shredded hash browns that have been lightly salted and peppered while sauteed in a ¼ cup of olive oil and a tablespoon of butter. I make two glasses of chocolate milk, to wash it all down, while waiting for my eggs and hashbrowns to finish cooking. About ten to fifteen minutes later, and I am enjoying the scrumptious results of my own cooking.
After finishing my breakfast, I cleaned the kitchen and put my football bag into the trunk of my car while putting my backpack into the backseat. With that done, I check the time on my phone and see that it's 6:00 a.m. so after making sure everything is clean I hop in my car to head to school for the film meeting.
As I pull out of the garage, down the driveway, and onto the road, I turn the radio on in time to catch the question the talk show host is asking his guest. "So Bill, what do you think about this war we're fighting down in South America?" "Do you want my honest-to-God opinion Bobby?" the guest, Bill, asks in return. "I think we don't have any business sending our boys down there to fight. All the government is doing is sending good young American men to bleed and die for nothing. What is happening right now in South America is nothing but a damn mistake. These men, our men, our fighting and dying right now, and for what Bobby? For what?" After that, the conversation between Bobby and Bill got pretty heated. They argued back and forth for about ten minutes before Bobby called for a commercial break so that they could both calm down before moving to the next topic.
'There both fucking idiots for arguing like that. And they're total bastards too for picking such a controversial topic, one that's guaranteed to draw attention and get people to tune in, just to boost the show's ratings.' I can't help but think to myself while grinding my teeth. Currently, America is very divided on the topic of war. Every Tom, Dick, and Harry each have a different opinion but the three main groups are the pro-war party made up of the far left wing liberals and the anti-war party made up of the more far right wing radicalists. In my opinion, both sides are fucking crazy and are tearing this country apart. This opinion puts me squarely in the middle of the third group. The silent majority. 'God, all this political bullshit is freaking annoying.' I think to myself as I arrive at school. 'I mean can't we all just work together to make this nation a better place for everyone to live? One where people respect each other even if they have different opinions, and where the government actually helps the little guy like they say they want to.' Haah. I sigh as I get out of my car and head to the meeting room where the team should be almost gathered by now since it's about 6:20 a.m.
Once I arrive at the meeting room, I pull up a chair, turn it around, and sit in it so that both I and the back of the chair are facing the projector screen. A few minutes later, the last of the team trickles in. Coach Anderson comes in and breaks us up into offensive and defensive groups, then we break up further based on our position and group around our position coach. The Defense leaves the meeting room with the defensive coaches while the Offense stays in the meeting room with Coach Anderson and the offensive coaches. Coach Anderson then turns on the projector and begins his presentation, though I feel like this is what it would be like to be in a military debriefing. He goes position group by position group critiquing our playstyle according to the new game plan that he and the other coaches developed last night, and I must say, it's solid. I've played for the man since I became the starting quarterback as a freshman, and I must say he never fails to impress me.
As the film begins to play my eyes are drawn to the opposition's secondary unit almost immediately. Our cross-town rivals have a great defensive backs coach, and he has turned his naturally talented players into a very impressive secondary unit. They play with an almost collegiate level of vision and spatial awareness. Even the younger players who have only been playing for a year at most play at such a level that they are only distinguishable from their seniors by their numbers and the occasional mistake. It's honestly very impressive, 'however none of it will matter come Friday night.' I think to myself with a smirk.
"What ya thinkin' Johnny?" the coach asks me as he notices the smirk on my mouth. "That our gameplan is solid and there is no way in hell these fuckers can win," I reply honestly. "Elaborate," the coach demands. "Well, for one their D-line is ass. I mean sure they're good but our O-line is just that much better. judging by what I've seen so far, we could probably give James or Andrew the ball the entire night and the D-line wouldn't be able to stop them. Then there are the linebackers. They're talented all of them and they're all highly athletic, but instead of doing a four-three spread with four down linemen, which would've helped their D-line, they did a three-four with three down linemen and four linebackers. Granted they almost always blitz one of them but is it really a blitz if you know it's coming and can react to it? And although the remaining three linebackers make it a hassle to try and pass over the middle they are absolute dogshit when it comes to screenplays and sweeps somehow. The only truly redeeming quality their defense has is their secondary which is extremely well coached, though it still irks me that they think they'll be able to play man-to-man on our wideouts." I finish my spiel while grinding my teeth. I mean I feel somewhat personally insulted by their formation. I'm a triple-threat QB after all. Over my three years playing for this school I have averaged over 90% completion percentage, and a thousand yards rushing and passing each, per season. However the most important quality about a quarterback, and what makes the triple threat complete, is their decision-making. Sometimes I have to kill a team while passing, others while running, and still others while letting someone else run or changing a play call while on the field. The mind of a truly great quarterback is their most powerful weapon and what separates a good QB from a great one, and I'm fucking great.
"Don't you think you're being a little harsh Johnny?" James, who's sitting right next to me, asks jokingly. "Perhaps," I reply, seriously. "We haven't seen all their film yet. I'll come to a more accurate and complete judgment once I've reviewed everything." Over the next two hours, we watched their film in the meeting room before school started. Throughout the meeting, the coach would ask us questions about what we noticed about their formation or their lineup, whether we noticed cues or signals that were specific to certain formations or lineups. Additionally, over time our opponents seemed to become better and better. It seems that I passed judgment on them much too quickly. Well, that or the film was just an old film from multiple years ago. Regardless, this game is shaping up to be very difficult. I may just have fun after all.
...
...
...
"W," "I," "L," "D," "C," "A," "T," "S,". "haa" I exhale with mildly labored breathing, however, compared to the rest of the team I look just fucking fine as a dandy. We just finished our eighth round of 'Wildcat' pushups, but we still have two more to go before we begin the practice, and this is after doing a whole host of other workouts, like crunches, burpees, squats, etc. all of which we have done in full pads while in one-hundred-and-ten degree heat. The only rest we've gotten has been between each type of workout, with no rest between each set we do of the same exercise. 'Welp time for the next set' I think to myself as we immediately begin the next set "W," "I," "L," "D," "C," "A," "T," "S,"...
…"Phwwhht", "Phwwhht", "Phwwwwwwwwwwwhht," Coach Aderson's whistle rings out signaling the end of today's somewhat tortuous warmups as we hop up out of pushup position and huddle around him so he can begin making his pre-practice announcements. After his announcements, we break off into our respective position groups. Coach Fuller decided to change things up today since we had P.E. before practice and do most of our individual warmups then. Right now he and I are just going over different game scenarios in preparation for Friday night while waiting for the wide receivers to be done with their warm-ups.
"So, if we're running a QB read option and the linebacker comes blitzing through a gap that the O-line misses and is about to blow up the play, what do you do?" "Well, that depends on the speed of the linebacker, and his forward momentum, as well as whether the running back has more control of the ball than I do or not. If the linebacker has plenty of forward momentum but I've almost completed the handoff then I would just finish the handoff and take the play in the backfield. We can always recover the lost yardage on the next play, while if I were to try and pull the ball out it might cause a turnover. If I have more control over the ball and the linebacker has forward momentum then I see no reason that I shouldn't keep the ball, make the linebacker miss, and then keep running." Coach nod's his head in response in a gesture of content at my textbook response, and just like that we spent the next twenty to thirty minutes going over potential scenarios until the wideouts finished they're drills and came over.
Once the wideouts came over I loosened my shoulder and body up and began target practice by dropping pass after pass into their bread basket, again and again and again, for thirty minutes, until it was time to move to the next drill with the half and full backs for another thirty minutes. After running through the various run plays we were intending to use this Friday night against West High, the offense grouped up and began to do walkthroughs of the various plays we wanted to do for thirty minutes before finally calling the team together for live practice versus each other.
After calling us together for live practice we went for forty-five minutes where the defense emulated West High's Defense and the offense ran through our various play selections for game day. After forty-five minutes the offense began to emulate West High's offense so that the defense could go through their various plays. Of course, the coach pulled me and some of the other first-stringers out when the offense began to emulate West High, to not risk injuring some of his starting players.
After practice was over Coach Anderson called us in for post-practice announcements. He told us to be at school by 6:30 again tomorrow morning for film analysis and to eat a good meal when we got home. After a few other miscellaneous other announcements, he let us go. I took a cold shower once I got to the locker room and removed my equipment. I put on a change of clothes and packed up my bags before heading out to my car. Rachel went home with her parents today so it was just me, the radio, which was playing Whiskey lullaby by Alison Krauss, and the tarmac, which was rudely interrupted by my friend Kerry Eurodyne giving me a call.
"Kerry, you know your my best friend, but you have God awful fucking timing you know that," I say the moment I answer his call "Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, whatever Johnny. Hey listen, you think you'll have some time to come to my place this week and work on another song?" he asks. "No, I won't have any time before Saturday. Even then I'll probably be taking Rachel out Saturday, but I can probably come over Sunday and we can get back to work on "Sinners". Or are you going to ditch me again to go to the Philippines?" I ask somewhat curtly. "Oh c'mon Johnny. You're not still mad about that are you?" he asks. "Am I still pissed about you leaving, without any prior notice and not informing me that you weren't gonna be able to make it to the studio on the day I rented it because you decided to fly your happy ass to the Philippines? What do you think Kerry?" I respond, now fully pissed. "What do you want me to say, Johnny? I'm sorry that my parents surprised me with a trip to the Philippines. I'm sorry that I was able to have some quality family time with my parents for the first time in years instead of them just letting the maid take care of me?" he responds, now sounding equally heated. "One, you know that isn't what I meant. Two, who in the fuck complains about having a maid take care of them? Three, what I'm pissed about is that I wasn't given at least a twenty-four-hour notice. I mean hell, had you given me at least a twelve-hour notice I could've gotten a refund from the studio, but I wasn't able to do that because someone didn't inform me," I say. "I'm sorry Johnny. I'll make sure to inform you ahead of time. Ik how much you hate wasting time," Kerry says apologetically. "Good. Good. You still owe me 250 eddies for the studio time by the way." I say with a laugh to lighten the atmosphere.
"Moving on, are you gonna be at school tomorrow, or are you gonna come with some medical excuse like you did in fourth grade?" I ask to change the subject. "You still haven't forgotten about that yet?" Kerry asks. "Of Course, I haven't. You and I both know that I have a perfect memory and never forget a thing." I say which earns a chuckle from both of us. "Well see you at school tomorrow. You can brag about your trip to the Philippines all you want then man," I say before we both say goodbye to one another and I hang up. Kerry's my best friend and I honestly can't stay mad at him for long but he makes up for that by doing random shit that just peeves me all the time. I turn the radio audio back up but by now the song is long over and I can't stand the one they currently have on. So after a little channel surfing on the radio, I was able to find something that was acceptable and listened to it for the remainder of my drive till I got home.
Once I pull into the driveway I open the garage bay door, pull in, and park my car. Before exiting the car I close the bay doors and pull my backpack and football bag out of my car. I bring the football bag to the washing machine and throw everything in it into the machine. After I've finished starting my laundry I move into the kitchen to warm up food where I'm able to see my dad seated on the couch in the living room watching TV.
"Hey, Dad," I call out, announcing my existence to the man. "Hey, son. How was practice? Y'all win Friday night right?" he asks. "Psssh, please. C'mon, Dad. This is me and my team we're talking about. Do you really think any of us would accept anything less than a win?" I reply. "Don't be arrogant, son. That's the quickest way to defeat." he chides. "Dad. You and I both know that I may talk shit but I also never, ever, underestimate an opponent."
"Yeah, yeah, I know, I know. So, how's school, how's Rachel, and how are your friends?" he asks. "Everything good," I reply. "School is as boring and easy as always. Rachel and I went out to that spot Mom and I had talked previously yesterday, and she loved it. As for the others, everyone's good, though I don't think any of them were excited to be in class again. Kerry's also back in town and said he'll be at school tomorrow." I answer. "Kerry's the kid who went to the Philippines a little over a week ago, right?" my Dad asks. "Yes," I reply with a mild edge to my voice. "Oh c'mon Johnny you're not still broken up about the fact that he forgot to tell you about the trip are you? It was over a week ago." "And It's precisely because it was a week ago that I didn't immediately head to his house to throttle him after finding out that he got back," I state, though both my dad and I know that I'm not actually mad at Kerry anymore.
"Moving on, where's mom?" I ask. "Ah, your mom went to some neighborhood watch association whatchamacallit thing," Dad says with mild annoyance. He hates those tedious things, so mom tends to go to them so Dad doesn't have to after he gets home from a long day of work at the agri-farm facility. "So, How was work today?" I ask. "Argh, don't even get me started. Those damn higher-ups never listen to reason, and then they dare to complain when things don't work the way they want them to. I mean you can't transport goods without the necessary equipment to load such goods. Equipment that requires certain parts to fix it when it breaks, which takes time to get shipped, which is why I, as the head of the engineering department, recommended we keep a certain number of spares for each machine. But no, those fucking morons just decided to ignore my advice and buy a cheap fucking temporary solution like always, and now the lift machines are completely broken and I have to wait for the necessary parts to be shipped to fix the equipment. Maybe next time I give a recommendation they'll listen, though I doubt it.
"Well, if you want, you and I could go work on that old, beat-up, 76 Camaro you got in the workshop to take your mind off things," I suggest and he perks right up at that. 'He's so simple,' I think to myself. He's been working on cars in his free time for as long as I can remember. I started working in his workshop with him when I was around eight years old. As such he and I are both considered grease monkeys by Mom. Even the Porsche 911 Turbo that I drive now was originally just classic scrap before he picked it up. Afterwards, he and I got to work restoring it and about three years later I had a practically brand-new car to drive.
After a few hours working on the old Camaro together, and arguing about what parts needed to be removed and what needed to be fixed first, we called it a night. I went to my room to shower again before going to the laundry room to flip my laundry over and head back to my room to sleep.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone