The Toughest Play

11. Rogan

CHAPTER 11

ROGAN

M y phone rings with the FaceTime alert as I’m gathering the things I need to take with me to the stadium. Glancing at the screen, I see my brother Niall’s name.

“Hey,” I answer, smiling when I see not only his face peering at me but Maeve’s too.

“We wanted to wish you good luck for the game,” Niall says.

“Yeah, get out there and kick some booty,” Maeve adds.

“I appreciate the call, and I’ll take all the luck you impart, but if things go the way I plan them to I won’t need it.” I flex my right arm, and angle the camera to show off the ball of muscle in my bicep. “I’ve never felt so prepared.”

“That’s awesome,” Maeve says.

“When you’re out there, stay focused in the moment, bro,” Niall tells me. My gut reaction is to get annoyed but I quash the urge. Having been a pro hockey player for more than ten years, he’s speaking from experience. Everything he tells me has been learned through trial and error. “If you make a mistake, forget about it and move on.”

I nod. “I will.”

“We’ll all be watching and cheering you on,” Maeve says.

“Thanks so much for calling me. You two are the best siblings a guy could ask for.” There was a time when Maeve and I went back and forth bickering at each other over anything and everything. But as we’ve matured, that’s no longer the case. In some ways I miss verbally sparring with her, but I enjoy our peaceful interactions more. And I know Niall does. We used to drive him mad whenever we were all together.

“Good luck,” Maeve shouts.

“Play hard,” Niall says.

I hold up my hand. “Talk soon.” We hang up and I finish packing up my things.

As the clock counts down to the moment I’ll be on the field, my excitement grows. Yes, it’s only a preseason game but it means we’re that much closer to the official start of the season. And I plan to be the starting quarterback by then.

Preseason games are slightly less competitive than in the regular season. Teams don’t make specific game plans and most coaches use them as a way to shake the rust off and prepare for the season. Rookies are usually evaluated through more playing time while starters take minimal reps. But roster spots can still be earned and lost. I’m counting on it.

“How’s that arm today?” Griffin Moore is in full pads and standing at my locker, looking serious.

“Never better.”

“I see the move you’re making.”

“What’s that now?”

“You’re pushing for the starting job.”

“I am.” I stand up and look him straight in the eyes. “And I will get it.”

Griffin stares in silence for a moment and then breaks into a smile. “I’m suiting up for extra reps tonight.” He offers me a fist bump. “Let’s go.”

I understand his recent interest in me. Griffin is in what we call a contract year. His three-year rookie deal ends this season. A player with his speed and ability should earn a massive second contract with the team. I get it, he wants to show everyone what he can do and exactly what he’s worth, but Brett’s inconsistency down field isn’t helping him. I will, though, and we’ll both benefit.

“What’s that all about?” Cooper pops his head into my locker space.

“Huh?” I’m a little caught off guard by his abrupt appearance in my face.

“What are you guys up to? And how do I get in on it?” he persists.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t even try to deny it. Griffin is suited up and looking mighty determined for an all-pro, veteran starter in the preseason.”

“It was nothing.”

“Bullshit. I want in.”

“You want in on what?”

“On you taking the starting quarterback job.”

“Relax, with that.” Waving my hand, I encourage him to speak quietly. “I am not trying to create problems in the locker room or for this team. I just want an opportunity.”

Cooper slowly checks over his shoulders, one after the other, with a smirk, nods his head, and winks. “I’ll be open.”

The stadium looks sold out, even though it’s only a preseason game. This is the first chance most of the Silverbacks’ fans have had to see their team in months, so the place is packed. The crowd is a sea of red and black—the team colors—all around.

The stadium sound system is blasting “Crazy Train” at an obscene volume as we rush out onto the field. The crowd’s response is deafening and their energy feels electric, sending chills over the surface of my skin.

I’ve always loved this time of the year. Late summer football brings with it all the hopes of the upcoming season. As an athlete, you hope all of the workouts have made your body hard enough and strong enough to survive the season without an injury. You hope the endless film study sessions, team meetings, and reps on the field will be enough to succeed.

There’s something special about athletic competition, especially at the professional level. And for me, football has always been the highest form of competition, and it’s been a constant in my life for as long as I can remember. But this season feels different. I’ve put the work in and have never felt more ready. It’s time to lock in and show the world how good I can be. This is my time, but only if I perform.

“Feeling good?” The QB coach, Coach Parker, slaps me on the back along the sidelines.

“Feeling great,” I shout back above the noise.

“Good. Stay loose. Coach Chubb has Barlow starting but you’re looking at a healthy dose of reps behind center tonight.”

“I’m always ready.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Now, let’s get some payback on these fuckers.”

Our opponents tonight are division rivals, the Carolina Cougars, the team that ended our hopes of a playoff run last season. There’s no shortage of hard feelings in our locker room for the Cougars, and while it’s only preseason, things could easily get chippy.

The Cougars defense doesn’t waste any time letting us know they came to bully us around. They blitz on the first play and easily sack a slow-to-evade Brett, hitting him both high and low. He’s slow to get up and even slower leading the huddle to call the next play. By the time they get to the line of scrimmage, the play clock is almost up. It’s close, but Brett doesn’t get the ball in play in time to avoid a penalty.

It’s a horrible start that only gets worse when Brett takes another sack on the third play.

“Three and out! Are you fucking kidding me?” Coach Chubb is furious and doesn’t hide it as the offense jogs back to the sidelines.

Brett doesn’t say a word as he walks straight to the bench with his head down.

“Start warming up.” Coach Parker lets me know I’m going in on the next offensive series.

I’ve only thrown two passes to warm up behind the bench when our defense forces a fumble on the Cougars’ first snap of the ball, getting the offense right back out on the field. The crowd responds like a clap of thunder, roaring their collective approval.

“Alright, O’Rourke, it’s time for you to show me what you’ve got.” Coach Chubb grabs me by the chest pads and pulls me in close. “The team is all yours tonight.”

Damn right. And I’m not giving it back.

The huddle is silent and everyone looks concerned. I’m not at all surprised, as they just watched their starting quarterback basically shit himself in front of our hometown fans.

“Who’s ready for a little payback?” I smile with confidence and let them all know the first play. “Double right. Single jet. Hard, on three. Double right. Single jet. Hard, on three. Break.”

Double right calls for the wide receiver and tight end to line up side by side on the right.

Single jet calls for the wide receiver, Griffin Moore, to line up on the outside and break long down the sideline. The tight end, Cooper Grind, will hang back to assist with protection blocking and then run a shorter route across the middle for a second option.

Hard on three calls for a hard, or loud, count of three before hiking the ball. The Cougars defense has come out aggressive and could be susceptible to jumping offsides for a penalty.

Their line holds through the hard count and drops back into pass coverage instead of another blitz.

The pocket begins to collapse under pressure, so I slip forward between the rushing linemen as Cooper picks up a monster block in the backfield, keeping the play alive.

Griffin breaks in and then right back out again too quickly for the Cougars’ defensive backs to keep pace. By the time they recover, Griffin is streaking down the sideline several yards ahead of them, uncovered. I step up into the mass of three-hundred-pound linemen all around me and heave a long arching pass thirty yards downfield.

The ball zips into his arms at the fifteen yard line, three strides before he hits the end zone for a touchdown.

“Good job hanging in the pocket, O’Rourke.” Coach Chubb grunts at me as I come back to a litany of high fives and congratulations on the sideline. “Keep it up.”

Our special teams squad pins the Cougars’ kick returner down inside their own five yard line. Our defense then forces and recovers another fumble two plays later.

“How are you feeling?” Coach Chubb pulls me aside just before the offense takes the field.

“Like a gunslinger, Coach.” I answer without hesitation or even a hint of doubt in my voice.

“I like that.” Coach Chubb breaks into a smile, and it’s honestly a bit intimidating. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile before today.

“Do you remember the first ten plays on the card for today’s game?”

“Absolutely.”

“Run this series no huddle.”

“Seriously?” I’m stunned at the confidence he’s showing in me.

“I believe in momentum and we’ve got it right now. Let’s stick a dagger in their hearts early.” Coach Chubb slaps my shoulder pads twice and shoves me toward the field. “Go get ’em.”

I run through today’s play card in my head as I jog back onto the field. It’s a series of between ten and twenty plays pulled from the much larger playbook that the coaches put together specifically to start each game. Today’s card has ten, and I’ve memorized each one as if my life depended on knowing them.

As it turns out, we only need half of them for this drive. I connect with Cooper twice down the middle and Griffin three times on the outside.

The final play of the drive is a quarterback sneak, straight up the middle behind our center, Thor Sorensen. It’s a dominant drive, ending with my first touchdown of the preseason. It feels good.

I’m completely locked in for the rest of the game, and my focus has never felt this sharp. I’m sensing pressure early and slipping tackles in the pocket with ease. I’m consistently looking defenders off with my eyes and connecting with multiple receivers all over the field.

As we walk off the field after the end of the game, the hometown crowd is chanting my name, and I’ve never felt better.