Page 97 of The Quarterback
“I didn’t do that for the team. I did it for you.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. You’ve got a big fucking problem, Clarence. You’re a damn good football player, and you’re a great athlete, but you’re nothing more than that. You think you’re a quarterback, but you have no idea what that really means. You think it’s all about being the star.” Colton shook his head. “It’s nothing like that.”
Clarence’s chest rose and fell. He stared at Colton, breathing through parted lips.
“When you’re the quarterback—when you’rereallythe quarterback—you’re the leader. You’re the guy all the players look to, on the field and off. You manage the team, and that doesn’t just include calling plays and taking the glory when it goes right. You manage the team on the field by owning the failures more than you own the successes. It was a great pass? Yeah, your receiver kicked ass. It was a fantastic run play with a good handoff? Damn, your running back is awesome. The play fell apart? Defense stepped up, pushed hard? Man, you didn’t read them right and they got the jump on you.”
Clarence’s eyes narrowed.
“And you manage the team off the field bylovingthose guys. You sacrifice for them, over and over and over. You’re the first one on the field, and you always work the hardest. You smile the widest. You’re the happiest at practice. You’re the guy they think of when they don’t want to get out of bed, when they don’t want to suit up. And you’re there for them when you’re picking yourself out of the grass and leaping to your feet and showing them that that’s what the fucking pointis. That you get up again.” His throat closed around his words, and he turned away, pacing down the dark alley as he ran his hands through his hair. Damn it.
“That’s what you were doing today? Working your ass off so the rest of the team would, too?”
“I’ve done that before.” He turned back to Clarence, sighing. “But no, today was about you. I was trying to show you what it looks like to step up and be a man who doesn’t quit on his team. You can’t quit on them. You can’t ever do that.”
“If you’re so wise, why aren’t you the damn quarterback right now?” Despite his glower, Clarence’s voice trembled. He glared down the alley, eyes trying to set a dumpster on fire.
“Because I did quit, and I don’t deserve to lead the team anymore.”
Clarence’s head whipped around. He stared at Colton, looked him up and down. “You got hurt—”
“And then I didn’t do what I was supposed to do. I didn’t come back all the way, the way I should have.”
“Why? If you’re not supposed to give up on the team, then why did you? You just giving me a bunch of talk that you couldn’t live up to?”
“Because I found something—someone—I loved more than football. More than being a quarterback. More than I loved the team, even. Or I thought I did.”
He didn’t expect to see sympathy in Clarence’s eyes. He’d expected pity, or scorn. Ridicule. But Clarence shook his head as his gaze dropped. “I can’t imagine finding something I love more than this game.” He scuffed his shoe against the cracked pavement. “That’s gotta be a hell of a thing.”
“I thought it was.” Colton shrugged. “Do you love the game, or do you love being a star? You love the crowds, or do you love your team?”
Clarence shook his head. “No one’s ever told me this kind of shit before. It was always ‘You’re the greatest, Clarence,’ and ‘You’re gonna go far, Clarence,’ in high school.”
“You were the big fish in a small pond. The star local player.”
Clarence nodded.
“Everyone playing this game in college was the star player where they’re from. You’re not special on your own anymore. Now, here? You’re special when you work with the team and you guys become something greater together.”
Again, Clarence nodded. He stared at the ground, kicking at a seam with the toe of his shoe. But he was quiet, for the first time ever, and listening to Colton.
“People think you’re a great player, and I think you’ve got the potential to be a hell of a quarterback. But you have to want it, and if you do, you have to start making some changes. You need to be the leader this team deserves. If you don’t want it, then save them the heartache and leave now. It will be better for everyone if you make a clean break. Sometimes things don’t work out.”
“And if I decide I do want it?”
“Then you need to start listening more. Listen to the team. Listen to Coach. Hell, listen to me a little. The people around you want to help you. Everyone wants to help you level up and become more than you are right now, but you’re taking that as some kind of personal insult. Why don’t you want to improve? If you don’t keep learning, you’re going to be exactly the same ball player in five years that you are today. And you know where you’ll be? Playing pickup football in a parking lot andnotin the NFL.”
He let Clarence chew on his words. They were still buried in the alley, out of sight from the main street. Groups passed them by, loud voices and braying laughter filtering through the narrow passageway. He should go out there. Find a bar and find a pretty girl to lose the night with. Or, hell, lose an hour with, someone to look at him and smile and think he was all right for just sixty minutes.
He wouldn’t. The thought of touching someone else, of being touched by someone else, sat like a broken music note inside him.
“All right,” Clarence finally said. “All right. What do you want me to do?”
Colton turned away from the street. “Come to practice tomorrow afternoon ready to work. Show up early. Meet me on the field. I’ll show you the drills that helped me the most. We’ll find a package for you to work on every day. And we can do that together.”
Clarence pushed off the bricks. He’d sobered some as they spoke, and he wasn’t stumbling as much as he came toward Colton this time. He held out his hand wide, waiting for Colton to give him a high five. When he did, Clarence pulled him in for a quick, back-slapping hug. “Thanks,” he grunted into Colton’s ear. “You still love them, don’t you?”
