Page 67 of The C*ck Down the Block

The first drill was hellish, just as I’d expected. Coach had us running sprints till our lungs felt like they were trying to escape through our mouths. I heard someone heave behind me, but I pressed on. The need to set an example coursed through my veins. If the QB didn’t slack, no one else could afford to either.

After we’d been adequately tortured, we moved to offensive drills. My arm felt like a well-oiled machine as I fired passes to wide receivers, fine-tuning our already killer connection. The atmosphere was electric, every completed pass or successful block amping up the energy.

At noon, we broke for lunch.As I headed towards the dining hall, I spotted my brothers congregating near the entrance. Declan, arms crossed, looked like he was already scowling at the food inside. Everett was mid-joke, a big grin lighting up his face, while Hayes, our newest recruit, looked like he was absorbing everything with a mix of awe and the ambition of a first round draft pick Kingman.

I walked over, giving each of them a slap on the back. “Well, if it isn’t the family dynasty of the league. How was the morning, gentlemen?”

Everett chuckled. “You mean aside from watching you almost collapse during those sprints?”

“Hey, a QB’s got to set the standard.”

Declan grunted, a sound that managed to convey both agreement and criticism. He was grumpier than usual. We’d have to put him down for the meanest defense player in the league award. It was a family legacy after all.

Hayes, eyes bright, chimed in. “Man, this is intense. Nothing like college.”

I looked at him and nodded. “Welcome to the big leagues, little bro. It only gets harder from here.”

We walked in and grabbed our trays, loading them with lean protein and complex carbs. As we sat down, the dynamic in the whole room shifted subtly. Having three men from the same family was a rare occurrence, but four was something truly special. Some would say our father had pushed us too hard to become star athletes. But he’d molded us into the men we were today, the best way he knew how.

Declan, eyes still on his food as he shoveled it in, brought up the only other thing on my mind. “So, once again, your plans worked. Trixie’s your girl now?”

A smile tugged at my lips, “Yeah, she is.”

Everett laughed. “She better be your fucking good luck charm this season. We didn’t work our asses off to just get you laid.”

That might be the closest Ev got to admitting that being in a committed relationship was a good thing. It was for me. Not sure if it ever would be for him.

Hayes, always the sentimental one, asked, “Does it feel different? Being in love, I mean?”

I paused, not quite expecting the answer that bubbled up into my mind. “It does. It feels like I’ve got more to fight for now, both on and off the field.”

Declan nodded, which, in his language, meant he approved. Or at least, didn’t disapprove.

The conversation turned to strategy, plays for the upcoming season, but in that moment, something felt complete. As if the missing piece to my life had finally clicked into place. Trixie had done that for me, and as I looked at my brothers, I felt a wave of gratitude. For family, for love, and for the season ahead that promised to test us in every way possible.

Yeah, it was going to be a hell of a season.

Before we headed back to the afternoon practice, I made conversation with a couple of the rookies, who looked at me with a mix of awe and eager curiosity. I talked them through some of our core plays, trying to ease their first-camp jitters.

As I looked around the room, I caught sight of a photo from last season hanging on the wall, early in the year before we knew we’d win it all. There we were, a band of brothers, bound by the sport we loved. My thoughts drifted to Trixie. I’d almost give this all up to spend a few more hours in bed with her. She’d transformed my off-field life in a way that felt just as groundbreaking as any game-winning pass.

The next few weeks we wouldn’t get to see as much of each other as I’d like, but I could also see us finding an easy routine once the season started. And then I’d ask her to marry me.

We wrapped up lunch with a tradition of making the rookies stand up and sing their college fight song. Their performances ranged from impressively harmonious to hilariously terrible, and we howled, clapped, and jeered in good fun. Of course, Deck, Ev, and I sang along to the DSU Dragons song with Hayes.

As I headed back to field, still laughing about our newest defensive tackle attempting high notes he had no business with, a sense of contentment washed over me. Between the love of a good woman and the camaraderie of a team that felt like it could conquer the world, this was going to be a hell of a season.

And god, I couldn’t wait to get it started.

Until it came to a crashing halt of camera flashes and booing fans as I walked back out on the field. Confused, I glanced over to the stands where fans had been cheerful and encouraging earlier. Now, they were openly hostile.

“What the hell?” I muttered. “What are these, Bandits fans?

We had a long standing rivalry with the team from LA, but fans had to buy tickets to get in here, and security generally took care of problems before they got like this. The press was going wild, their cameras flashing like fireworks, shouting questions that were almost indecipherable in their frenzy.

“Chris, any comment on the video?”

“Is it really you in that footage?”

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