Page 29 of For the Fans
Kill me now.
CarpetburnCarl: The only time I’d kick you out of the bed would be so I could do you on the floor.
4 Months later…
(Sophomore Year, Boston College)
Alot of great athletes have their own superstitions or rituals leading up to big games.
I know guys who refuse to eat anything for twenty-four hours before game day. No matter how much Coach gets on them about fueling up, they just won’t eat. They say the hunger sharpens their focus, as if their bodies’ need for sustenance directly correlates with their hunger to win.
I know guys who abstain from sex the day before a big game… I mean, they won’t even jerk off. And I also know guys who insist on blowing their load, likeminutesbefore we hit the field.
I don’t practice any of that stuff, but I definitely get it. Keeping yourself sharp is mentalandphysical. But the emotional aspect… that’s where my superstitions lie.
Times of high stress have a tendency to trigger me. It’s something no one in the world but me knows about, which is avery good thing. I feel like keeping it hidden is the main reason I’m able to focus so well. The control I have over my emotions teeters… It’s unavoidable. But pretending everything is fine is where I excel, especially when it comes time to lace up and run out onto field in front of hundreds, even thousands of cheering fans.
I’m used to having all eyes on me. The Somerville High football team did really well, and our senior year, we brought home a championship. That’s what got me my scholarship to BC, and cemented me as the freshman quarterback. They put me in on game three of the season last year, and we ended up crushing one of our biggest rivals, forty-one to seventeen. After that, the eyes on me began to multiply, and now I’ve heard the BC stadium tonight will be packed.
A full house, first game of the season.
Boston College football is a huge deal. The Eagles have been an NCAA division name for as long as I can remember, and they’ve made it to the ACC finals the last four years in a row. But no National Championship in those runs… Notyet.
This need inside me to overcome my emotional hang-ups is what drives me. It’s a ravenous hunger to rip apart my issues with bared teeth and show them that they don’t control my life.Icontrol my life. Which is why when everyone else is listening to Coach Matthews give his first pep talk of the season to rile us up and motivate us to kick some Cardinal ass tonight, I’m zoned in on my hands.
Call it my own superstition… Call it a nervous tick or a habit, call it whatever you want. But I have this thing where I’ll stare at the lines on my palms and imagine them as roads I know. Sometimes I’ll even envision little cars driving up and down them, cruising the highways and streets I’ve been driving and walking on my whole life.
I’m not sure that I really remember where this coping mechanism came from, or what started it. And if I do, I’m sure I don’t want to think about that right now.Right now, all I’m concerned with is the backed-up traffic on the Mass Pike of my hand.
It’s being caused by literally nothing.People can’t drive for shit on the Pike.
“Harbor,” Coach shouts my name, and my eyes fling up to his. “You good?”
“Better than,” I grunt, pulling on my gloves, covering up the lines of my own personal road map.
“That’s what I like to hear,” Coach says. “I want your heads in the game tonight, boys. We’re gonna hit ’em so hard it’ll make their tails spin. Now let’s get out there!”
The room erupts in cheers, and we all jump up, gathering ourselves to head out onto the field.
“Eagles bitin’ the heads off Cardinals tonight, playa.” Guty shoulders me, and I grin at him.
Samson Gutierrez is our wide receiver, and also my roommate. He’s one of the best dudes I know; an awesome football player, with an infectious laugh and one of those personalities you can see like a glimmering aura. We hit it off immediately last year, and our on-field chemistry is something Coach is banking on to bring us to the finals again this year.
Onlythis time, I’m not leaving without that championship trophy.
The team files out, through the halls within the stadium that lead us to the field. My nerves are rattling with adrenaline, but that’s to be expected. It’s a big deal, after all. First game of the season after I made a name for myself freshman year. Coach already had the talk with me… about scouts and where I see myself going. To me, it felt a little premature, but I guess it’s not, all things considered.
Guys who live and breathe football are thinking about this stuff since they’re old enough to hold a ball, and I totally get it. I’ve known since I was a kid that I wanted to play for the NFL someday.
This is you…
Chomping the emotions back one last time, I step through the entryway, taking in the Friday night lights and the loud, bellowing cheers of fifty thousand people.
Fifty thousand… Holy shit. That’s a big number.
My eyes scan the stands, a sea of maroon and gold on our side. I would have no idea where my father is sitting, but I’m sure he’s here. He comes to most of my games… The only thing he does for me. Still, I’m not sure it’s really forme…
The music is blaring from the speakers, but I can barely hear it over the noise from the stands. Our cheerleaders are out there, doing their thing; shaking butts and pompoms in tandem. I spot Lexi right in the middle and she blows me a kiss.
