Page 15 of Fair Catch
“I knew she’d be good,” he confessed. “But I didn’t expect her to be this good. I mean, we both saw the talent she had when we were kids, but then she moved on to soccer and I just… I never thought…” He shook his head. “It’s just wild.”
“It is. I think she surprises even herself sometimes.” I tapped his knee with my own. “She might make pro.”
“She doesn’t want to.”
I frowned at that. “What do you mean?”
He shrugged. “There aren’t any women in the NFL.”
“Maybe she’ll be the first.”
“That’s what I’ve told her, but I think she’s just doing this for me. Once she graduates, I doubt she’ll touch a football again.”
That soured my expression, and I sat back, letting my controller dangle between my legs. “Bullshit. I mean, I don’t doubt that she’s serious about the promise she made you, but it’s more than that. She loves it, Gav. I’ve seen her eyes when she’s on the field, seen how determined and passionate she is. She looks like… like…”
He looked at me. “Like you.”
I quieted.
“I know it’s hard to understand, but not everyone has dreamed of being in the League since they were in diapers,” he teased me. “Her obsession is art, remember? This is just temporary.”
“Yes, but I also remember she loved playing ball with us in the backyard more than she loved going to museums, or playing with her own team when she was playing soccer. It’s just different with football — and she feels that, too. Tell me I’m wrong.”
“You’re not,” he confessed on a sigh. “I see all that, too. But I mean… what am I supposed to tell her? College is rough as it is. Imagine her against an NFL team? She’s tiny.”
“Tiny, but mighty.”
He chuckled. “Like Mighty Mouse.” With a shrug, he turned his focus back to the game. “Come on, I’ve got two more touchdowns to get before I take your money.”
“Pshh… you’re going to be giving me money, fool.”
We got back to the game, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d said about Riley. I understood how much that pinky promise meant to her, to both of them, when she made it in that hospital room after the accident.
But this was more to her than just playing for her brother. I knew it.
She loved football.
It made me sick to think of being in her shoes. It would be hard enough for me to go pro as it was, but I knew I had a shot. A good shot. I was fast and agile, a great receiver, careful with the ball and a powerhouse when it came to finding holes in the defenders. Teams could use me on special teams or to fill a receiver spot. Hell, I could even play at running back, if I needed to.
And I wasn’t even in my prime yet.
I also had parents who had not only planted this dream in my head, but had watered it, had essentially told me it was football or bust. Part of me resented them for that, because outside of football… what did I have?
Nothing.
But now that I realized how my situation differed from Riley’s, I wondered if I was lucky, if I shouldn’t have been thanking them for hammering into me that football was everything.
What would it be like to have all that talent, all that drive, and know my chances of playing after college were close to zero percent?
I swallowed, shaking off those thoughts and focusing on the video game.
But when Riley walked in later, my eyes caught hers, and though she held nothing but disdain in her gaze, I felt nothing but pure respect radiating from my own.
She could have a career in football — if she wanted it.
And I was determined to help her see that, no matter how the odds were stacked.
Riley
The last week of camp was the most grueling.
As if the early morning workouts, long practices, insufferable meetings, and endless hours watching tape weren’t bad enough, every single one of us was in battle mode, fighting for our positions.
This was it.
In one week, we’d know the depth chart, and we’d be preparing for our first game.
“Swings,” Coach Aarons said, barely taking his eyes off the clipboard in his hand before he was moving on to other areas of the Special Teams squad.
Bo Aarons was just as tough as our head coach, except unlike Coach Sanders, Coach Aarons had his sole focus on me. Well — me, and the rest of the players on special teams. He seemed to recognize the adversity I walked into being the only female on the team, but he never worked me any less than the guys.
I respected him for that.
I blew out a breath, legs already sore from working static drills on foot placement. The boys on offense and defense loved to give me shit anytime they could, always quick to point out that I didn’t work nearly as hard as they did now that we were into our more specialized practices. But none of them understood how much pressure fell on a kicker, how getting the right foot placement and having an immaculate leg swing were the difference between a game-winning field goal and a doink.
