Page 16 of Broken Play
"Just showing the boss how good I think Redham will be."
Nodding while he peruses the papers on his clipboard, J.D. says, "We're going to be offensive-minded, but defense wins championships."
Whatever.
All the rookies file in, and you can feel the nervous energy. It's like the locker room at Wimbledon—silent with half-smiles.
I watch Greyson go to work. With an enormous smile that captivates them and small dimples that trap me in his web, he introduces himself: "Greyson O'Ryan. You can call me anything but little brother." He hooks his thumb and points to J.D. "That's reserved for him. He promised he wouldn't use it while coaching, but who wants to take bets that he doesn't last through training camp?"
He puts us all at ease with one sentence.
"Have a seat. I have a little something for you. Even the bosses don't know what I've done." He looks at me, J.D., and the defensive coordinator, who walked in with the rookies.
Based on the brothers' interactions—and how J.D. pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head—it's clear he expects a prank from Greyson.
When the rookies are seated, Greyson, once again, pushes play, and the title is:
This Is You.
It's a highlight package of every rookie, and I can literally see their shoulders relax as they shout kudos to each other.
"Took it to the house."
"Pick six, baby."
"Looks like I've got wings."
I can't believe how much research and work he's put in—studying film of each of the rookies and preparing a highlight reel. It's easy to understand why his former teammates loved and trusted him. He likes to prepare and research, just like me.
The next caption comes up:
This Is Us.
This time it's a highlight reel of J.D. and the other coaches from when they played. Some, like J.D., played only a little over two years ago, and some, like the special teams coach, retired fifteen years ago. The rookies are just as much in awe as I am. My coaches know what the hell they're doing. At least they know how to play, but can they teach the game to kids who think they know it all?
This is your General Manager:
Professional Athlete
It shows me playing at Wimbledon and winning the French Open.
Coach
It shows me coaching at ACE Tennis Academy.
Sutton Anders
Student of the Game.
Photos flash of me taken at meetings, press events, my dad's house with the O'Ryans, J.D.'s home while eating dinner with his wife, and with employees.
At the end, the rookies clap and holler. I admit my face reddens and my stomach spins at the thoughtfulness of the Armadillos' new quarterback and the man I've thought about for months.
Greyson stops the film as he stands in front of it, the light glowing behind him. "This team of Armadillos is made to withstand every shot the opposing team takes—from the rookies to the existing players to the ones traded, like me, to our coaching staff and management. We are tough. Life has shot a few bullets my way, but I won't let it stop me from winning. Take that bad thing that happened to you and use it for motivation."
The player media room erupts with thundering voices and raw, electric energy as Greyson delivers a fiery speech, and for the first time, I feel goosebumps rise on my arms. I never understood locker-room hype until now, but hearing my quarterback rally the rookies, I'm suddenly certain that, together, we can win anything. Or at least sound good trying.
"Thank you, Greyson. I guess you all know that I'm Sutton Anders. I didn't know Greyson was putting this together, but it reminds us that we have qualities that can be used in any aspect of our lives. Rookies, after this week, I don't want you to feel like a rookie. So many of us are in new roles in a new place, and we're going to navigate this football season together. There's no better coach to lead you than a man who has spent his life reading defenses and throwing touchdowns: your coach, J.D. O'Ryan."
