Page 21 of Fair Catch
“See you at home, sweetheart,” I cooed.
Then, I bent in and kissed her cheek, running away before she could swat me as I passed.
Riley
Classes started, and so did the countdown to our first game.
I thought fall camp was tough, the long practices, nonstop meetings, strength training, and conditioning in-between. But now, we had to balance practice and meetings and training along with classes and homework and exams.
The first day of classes, I thought I’d be fine.
I woke up at six, hit the weight room for strength and conditioning, showered, and reviewed the practice schedule with the team at our first meeting of the regular season.
After that, it was my “light day” class-wise, one at nine and the other at noon. I ate lunch in-between, met up with the other kickers to watch film of our opponents we’d face Saturday, and headed into a three-hour practice.
When practice ended, we talked with the media, showered, and had dinner as a team before heading to the academic support center for homework. Thankfully, it was syllabus week, which meant most of us didn’t have much to do just yet.
By the time I made it back to the dorm, it was nine-thirty, and exhaustion took me under as soon as I’d brushed my teeth and let my head hit the pillow.
I was tired, yes, but I’d made it.
It was the next morning when my alarm sounded at six and I knew I had to do it again, with an extra class on the schedule, that I realized what we were truly in for.
As the week went on, I was lucky to have my bleary eyes open enough at the end of each night to wash my face before I passed out. My body ached from practice and training. My brain ached from class and homework. And my soul ached from feeling like I didn’t have a single spare moment to myself.
I wanted desperately to decorate my dorm, something I hadn’t had time to do during camp, but now I wondered if I’d be subjected to plain white walls until spring.
Zeke, however, seemed to have more energy than four Red Bull cans.
How he did it, I would never understand. His schedule was just as grueling as mine, but somehow, he found the will to have a girl over after study hall, or go out with some guys from the team to check out the local college bars. Sure, some nights he’d come straight home and pass out just like me, but others, he’d be out until well after midnight.
And still, when that alarm sounded at six, he was up.
I think that’s what bothered me most — that he could go out and have fun and still somehow get up and perform. He didn’t slack at practice, didn’t look like he was anywhere near tired. That kind of stamina was beyond me.
Not that I’d let him know I was that aware of his schedule. We were cordial as roommates, but we barely talked, other than discussing what groceries were his versus mine, or asking the other to turn down their music or close their damn door. His favorite pastime seemed to be trying to get under my skin, but he saved it for practice, where I could mostly ignore him.
I had to admit, even when I was annoyed with him, we’d fallen into a routine I was comfortable with. He stayed out of my way and I stayed out of his, and that was all I could ask for.
On the Friday night before the game, Coach dismissed us early and told us to wind down, relieve some stress, and get good sleep. We needed to report back at the stadium at nine the next morning for breakfast and pre-game team meetings, which meant I didn’t need to be awake until eight.
I almost whimpered at the thought of sleeping in.
When I got back to the dorm, I felt that nervous pre-game energy building up just like it had the night before a game in high school. It was the closest I’d felt to being homesick since I’d arrived at NBU — mostly because I simply hadn’t had the time to be homesick.
So, I turned on the latest Kid Cudi album and finally dug out my boxes of art I’d had stashed under my bed, settling in for a night of decorating to take the edge off.
The moment I popped the top on the first box, my heart heaved a sigh of relief.
A bright mosaic painting stared back at me, one from a local Boston artist that Mom had framed for me last Christmas. I pulled it out of the box, wiped down the glass and frame to remove any dust, and then held it up as I pivoted in the center of the room, looking for the perfect spot to hang it.
