Page 2 of The Americana Playbook

Full pads this close to a game—let alone the Super Bowl—isn’t a conventional coaching tactic. And conventional isn’t exactly in Coach Foller’s playbook. We run full contact practices probably more than any other team in the League. But this season, we have more wins than any other team as well.

“For god’s sake.” Josh tips his head. “Go figure out what’s going on, will you? If I go over there, I’ll make it worse.”

“You’re a captain as much as I am,” I remind Josh, who has played for the Rebels for four seasons, and under Foller for two.

Josh waves me off. “You’re CaptainAmerica. Go save the day.”

“I never endorsed that,” I remind Josh about what they started to call me when I signed with the Rebels after their losing season. And here we are.

I toss him the ball and jog over to the sideline.

“I don’t know what’s worse,” I hear Coach say. “My running back afraid to take a damn hit, or my corner afraid to give him one.”

I catch Micah’s eye, and go to interrupt, but Todd beats me to it.

“I’m not risking breaking my guy’s leg in practice,” he says. “Never been about that. Definitely not about it now right before a championship game.”

Coach swings his head in Todd’s direction. “Alright then. So I’ve got a cornerback issue. Take your soft ass off the field and get yourself back to the hotel in an Uber.”

My eyes widen. “Coach?—”

“Hey Fitzy.” Coach looks over the rims of his glasses. “Do snowflakes win championships?”

My eyes drift to Todd.

Coach waves a hand at me. “Did you hear me? I asked if snowflakes win championships.”

I take a deep breath. “No.”

Coach moves away from Todd and Micah, coming up to stand next to me so we face them together. It’s drawn out like we—coach and quarterback—are the team.

Micah shakes his head and looks away, like he knows where this is going. And I do to. Foller has asked me this dozens of times since I was a kid. He made sure as hell I didn’t want to be a snowflake, that I wouldn’t ever disappear just because things got a little too hot.

Todd isn’t that way. Todd is one of the greatest cornerbacks in the League. And the truth is when I played for the Bulls, we feared him as an offense. He was quick. He was strong. And he hit with every part of his body with zero hesitation and maximum effort.

When hehadto.

But I know every moment with Coach Foller is a teaching moment. And what he’s trying to teach Todd right is that if he’s not prepared to tackle his own teammate with full force now, he might hesitate when it matters.

Todd shakes his head at me. “I’m done.”

I curse under my breath.

“Good,” Foller says. “That’s the best decision you’ve made this entire day.”

Todd brushes past me as he heads into the locker rooms of the training facility we’ve been using.

“And you,” Foller says to Micah, “If you run one play today like you aren’t prepared to take down a god damn brick wall, you’ll sit on Sunday. Is that clear?”

Micah lifts his helmet onto his head and stepping around us, back onto the field.

I turn, and so does Coach. “What happens to snowflakes Fitz?”

Josh’s shoulders drop as he gives Micah a pat on the back.

“They melt.”

I doa double take through the peephole. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” I open the door. “How did you get up here?”

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