Page 45 of Who's Playing You
“Jesus, Diva, who shit in your Cheerios?” I looked up and saw one of the guys from the D-Line grinning at me.
Asshole.
“I believe the saying is ‘whopissedin your Cheerios’ notshit. But thanks for the concern.”
“Oh sorry, not all of us went to Zeiders,” he taunted as he walked off.
No wonder The Rage came in last place last year with piss-poor attitudes like that on the team. “Hey, Hobart!” I called after him.
His grin didn’t fade much as he turned around, “What’s up?” he asked with a slight hesitation.
“Just remember this: I win, you win. You lose, I lose. I’d suggest you fix your attitude, before you bring this entire team down with you.”
His face dropped. I take it no one had ever knocked him down a peg or two. And who would dare that? The dude was 6’6 and 325 lbs. But that didn’t intimidate me. His piss poor attitude would become a virus if we weren’t careful.
“Where I got my education has no bearing on this team. I’m here to do a job, just like you. And like it or not, your success is directly linked to mine - and vice versa.”
About a third of the team that was in our vicinity had quieted down and were now listening. Not wanting to make a spectacle of Hobart, I gave him a curt nod and moved back to my seat just as our coach walked in the door.
I ran my hand through my hair in frustration. The one thing that I hated most was a loser’s mentality. It was a cancer that would infect everything around it.
Hobart was an amazing player - when he wanted to be. Last year he’d had a shit season. The reason? His loser attitude was certainly a huge factor, but when I watched tape and paid attention to his plays, he was barely putting in a third of the effort he was capable of.
When you don’t put your full weight into whatever you’re doing, you’ll never achieve a goddamn thing. And I had quickly learned when I started working with The Rage that a lot of these guys were playing at 25% capacity, 30% at best. Because they didn’tcare.
They were used to being losers.
They were used to not being expected to do anythingbutlose.
Well, they were in for a rude awakening.
That shit wasn’t going to fly on my watch. I didn’t sacrifice my pro football career to come to New York and play in the prosonly to play with a bunch of losers. They either shaped it up and got in line behind me, or heads were going to be rolling.
I’d done this before.
I’d changed the attitudes of an entire team, then led them to victory. Multiple times.
But in those instances, I’d had help. Nic and Nik were there to help carry some of the load. This time though, the future of The Rage all lay in my hands.
I just hoped that I hadn’t bit off more than I could chew.
20
SCOTTIE ANDERSON
This week had been dragging. I was starting to believe the saying that idle hands were the devil’s playground, because nothing productive was coming out of anything that I was doing.
In my case, though, it was more a case of an idle mind. I was desperately trying to keep my hands busy in an attempt to keep my brain occupied. But it wasn’t really working.
My mind kept circling back to how I’d been feeling all summer: alone. Then the conversation with Nat about moving to Philly. It was a little bit exciting, I so longed to be around someone who wanted to be around me, and who loved me.
That person to me? It was Nat.
Then I felt guilty about feeling excited, because I did love Stetson U and the people who were in my life here, like my Stetson U girls squad. But I’m sure I could find a new tribe in Philly, too.
Then there Nicholas…
Nat texted me a few times asking what I’d thought of the listings she’d sent me. When I went to my email, I’d only found three emails from her and I didn’t see the listings she was talkingabout. I felt like I was missing something. Was my Gmail eating my emails?
