Page 9 of Gridlocked on the Gridiron

Ten minutes later, no less stressed than before the ice bath, but definitely more clothed, Colton strolled into her office. They’d given her a well-furnished room with a view of the practice fields, which was surprising. They usually saved those for the coaches. She must’ve been really good at her job if they were rolling out the red carpet for her.

Lucia had already pulled a chair beside hers, and when he rounded her desk, he noticed one of the monitors had four angles of his last game and the other had a bunch of numbers and symbols. Great.

“So how does this work, exactly?”

“Well, when I click this spacebar here, it’ll play whichever of these four videos I click on. And then I can watch you try not to get sacked by the entire d-line as the pocket collapses.”

He felt his temper rise at her sarcasm. “I might look like a dumb jock, but I am actually capable of understanding basic computer functions.”

She sighed beside him. “Obviously, with the game tomorrow, there isn’t much we can do in a couple of hours to get you ready. I’ll watch tomorrow and take note of anything I see that could be contributing to whatever’s going on with you. From there, I’ll plan to watch each practice, and we can work through strengths and weaknesses together afterward.”

She waved at the screens before them. “There will be a lot of reviewing film and numbers, and I’ll also probably have you run drills alone before or after practice to see how you’re doing on your own. Once my equipment comes in, I can get you hooked up to some different monitors to see how you fare during the drills, and even during practice.”

He groaned internally. He was tired of reviewing film. It often felt like he watched himself play football more than he actually played it.

“Coach Turner said you’d decide how often we need to meet. After seeing the past couple of practices, what do you think?”

“I think we have a lot of work to do. I was reviewing your stats from last season, and you’re averaging well below on everything except turnovers, which are, of course, up.”

He felt his hand curl at his side. Did she have to be such a know-it-all?

“Yeah, I’m well aware of that, thanks. ESPN is all too happy to let me know exactly how my stats have been comparing to last season’s. What I was asking was how often I need to be here.”

She clicked on one of the four windows of film, pulling up a play he knew would end poorly for past-Colton. “Well, that sort of depends on you. Theoretically, we could meet after every practice and go through how you did that day. But, in the interest of us not being at each other’s throats five to six days a week, we could cut it to every other day. And obviously not on game days.”

“Fine. That’s fine.” He watched past-Colton step back and read the field before throwing an admittedly beautiful pass, though it wasn’t anywhere near his receiver because he’d mixed up his route. A mistake he’d never made before that game.

She moved the video back a few frames and picked up a pen, tapping the screen right before he released the ball. “See that there? That’s an early release. You may have read the field wrong, but even if your receiver ran the route you thought he would, that beauty wouldn’t have found him.”

Dammit, she was right. He’d let go of the ball a split second earlier than he should’ve.

“I’m not sure if you’re just not focused, or if you’re getting stressed because your o-line is playing like they’re in high school, but that’s certainly one of many problems.”

His jaw clenched at her words. “There’s nothing wrong with my focus,” he grumbled. “You try reading the field correctly, checking if any of your receivers are going to be open, scrambling to prevent four 300-something-pound linemen from crushing you, all while trying to find an opening in the defense where you can rush for a few yards.”

“That’s literally your job. That’s what you get paid millions of dollars to do!” When he turned to glare at her, she met his eyes. “And it’s what you’ve done for years with surprising precision. Everybody knows you’re capable of it, you just need to pull your head out of your ass long enough to make the changes I tell you to make.”

Colton narrowed his eyes. He didn’t like the idea of taking orders from Lucia, but had she just complimented him? “What is this software you’re supposedly creating specifically for quarterbacks?”

He was surprised to see her smile. She practically lit up as she turned toward her other monitor. “It’ll focus on throwing accuracy and game-time decision-making. So, I’d feed this film, or practice film, through it, and it would pinpoint the things that need to be improved. For example, that early release or your arm angle. Or even your follow-through. There will also be a piece that you can wear, and it’ll connect to an app that coaches can use during practice to monitor metrics. Oh! And it’ll track progress over time so you can see how you improve!”

She turned back to look at him, and he watched the excitement drain from her face when she caught him watching her.

Even though everything about her pissed him off, he found himself wanting to know more. And maybe a part of him wanted to see the excitement on her face again. A very small part of him he wanted to squash. “How will it figure out if I’m making the right decisions?”

“I’d use all-22 film, and it would determine whether the pass or rush you chose was the best option,” she said, referring to when their film crew took video of the entire field, including all twenty-two players.

“Sounds complex.”

“And that’s why I get paid. Though, not millions, unfortunately.”

This time when their eyes met, she was almost smiling at him, and it almost felt like there could be a semblance of a truce between them. Almost.

And then his phone buzzed, and he saw her look down at the screen briefly as his Do Not Disturb turned off and hundreds of DMs came flooding in.

She rolled her eyes, scoffing. “So predictable.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

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