Page 63 of The Jock
The only thing I ask of my son is he marries a man who likes Texas football.
Justin laughed out loud. He took a selfie of himself in the Louisiana stands, in Wes’s jersey, with a Texas beanie on his head and a Texas scarf around his neck.Meet your approval, dad?
You make me so proud, son.Crying emoji.Hey, why don’t you ever send a picture of your boyfriend and you together?
He’s shy.
I don’t bite.
There was nothing he could say, so he powered off his screen and tucked his phone back in his pocket. Only ten minutes to kickoff, anyway.
Wes and Colton lost the coin flip, and the Texas defense took the field first. Louisiana pushed hard, but the defense rallied and held them to a field goal after stopping a drive on the two-yard line and batting down two attempts at the fade pass to the end zone. The offense came on after a kickoff return brought them out to their own thirty-eight.
Colton started with a short pass, getting a feel for the churn and grind of Louisiana’s line. Wes had taught Justin, one night when they were watching the stars in the bed of Wes’s pickup truck, that great football wasn’t made in the showy plays, the Hail Marys and the breakaways. Greatness came in the half seconds between the play action and the tackle. In the inches fought for between the two teams. Offensive and defensive lines fighting to open and close routes for their side to barrel through. A leap for a catch between three defenders, and the scramble to set and run after the screen pass. A hitch, the juke, and the spin for an extra yard.
He watched Colton launch the ball at Wes. Wes caught it in the center of his chest, turned, planted his feet, and ran right into the arms of Louisiana’s middle linebacker. Justin heard the crunch of pads on pads all the way in the stands. He covered his eyes as the play was blown dead. Held his breath. But Wes hauled himself up and trotted back to the huddle, and they were only two yards off a first down.
The first half was a grind, like Wes had said. The Louisiana defense stuck to Wes like stink on shit. It was more than man coverage. It was like eight on one. That opened up some deep routes for passes, and Colton started targeting the wide receivers more as Wes shifted into a blocking role, or spun off for dump passes when Louisiana pressed hard. By the time the half was called, the score was tied, 10–10, and Wes’s uniform was a kaleidoscope of grass stains and a long streak of blood from when he ripped the skin of his forearm on a sliding tackle in the second quarter.
For the first time, Justin got a text from Wes at half. It was a picture of him with an IV in his elbow, his forearm wrapped and bandaged.You would have done it better.
Why do you have an IV!?!?!?
Hydration. I was starting to cramp.
Oh. Jesus, he’d been about to tear out of his seat, run right to the locker room and burst in, never mind their secret.Christ, you scared me.
Sorry. I was a little woozy from the lack of fluids. I feel a lot better now. Just wanted to hear from you, though.
He sent back a line of hearts.You’re playing great.
We’re going to come out strong in the next half. We have good adjustments we can make. We’re going to win. Promise.
The second half started with Texas in possession, and Wes was right. They exploded out of the tunnel as if the entire offense had been given cocaine and sugar water. He almost texted Wes to ask what kind of elephant stimulant had been in that IV.
But no, this was all Wes. Justin could see the adjustments he’d texted about: the way he tightened up his movements, dug harder on his plants and pivots. Colton launched his passes faster. The offensive linemen held back the pass rushers more. Wes joined in blocking about half of the time. Even Justin, who’d watched a dozen of Wes’s practices, couldn’t figure out what play was being run next, whether it would be a rush or a short pass or a deep route.
He was exhausted watching, clinging to his scarf and screaming his heart out. The Louisiana defense, trying to contain Wes and Colton and the team, looked like they were sucking wind by the start of the fourth.
And, in the fourth, Wes scored a touchdown that broke the grinding back-and-forth tie, and on the next play, Louisiana threw an interception that brought the Texas offense back onto the field. They were tired, but they rallied, and Wes blocked for Orlando, who rushed a breakaway sixty-yarder for another touchdown, and they were up fourteen over Louisiana.
After another grueling seven minutes, Colton took a knee to wind down the clock, and Texas put up their seventh win of the season, making them one of only two teams in the league that were still undefeated.
Wes turned to the stands and blew a kiss to the Texas fans. They roared, cheered for him, chanted his name and waved their posters and their 87s.
But Wes was looking right at Justin when he did it. Justin closed his fist around the chilly Louisiana air and brought it to his lips. He kissed his fingers, as if he were kissing Wes’s hand, and sent the kiss right back.
Congratulations, cowboy. You were perfect.
Told you I’d win for you. <3
See you back at home?
Drive safe, mon amour.
* * *
“Dude, scoot over.”
