Page 37 of Silent Count
“Okay, that works.”
His smile grows wider. “Good. Looking forward to it. Night, Chelsea.”
“Night, Bo.” I smile and shake my head slightly, then end the call.
CHAPTER
NINE
BO
We arriveby buses at the stadium two hours before game time. Then we make our way down the Walk of Champions from the entrance of the field to the stadium gates. On our way in, I have my headphones on so I can keep the noise of the fans lining the walkway from distracting me. Casey’s by my side, but I see him veer off to say hello to his parents, sister, and Noelle. I wave when they look my way, and I think Charlie wishes me luck, but I just nod and keep walking. I can’t really talk to anyone before we play.
I like to be mentally prepared and usually walk through plays in my mind, and I can’t do that if I lose my concentration. I don’t even look at my phone until after the game. I always let my playlist run until it’s time to get dressed. Even then, I’ll set my headphones on the shelf and leave them running.
Once I get to my stall, I sit and start to take my dress shoes off. We’re required to wear suits on game days, which I don’t mind, but I can’t wait to get these shoes off. Then I stand and pull out my warm-up gear from the top shelf of the locker andset it on the bench. I’m unbuttoning my shirt by the time Casey comes in.
Coach enters the locker room and whistles to get our attention. I remove one side of my headphones to listen.
“You all have about ten minutes to be ready for warm-ups. Get moving.” He claps his hands a few times.
My teammates turn back to their lockers and start moving a little faster. I do too. I get my pants off then pull up my gym shorts. I grab my cleats and prop one foot on my bench and loosely tie the laces, then do the other foot.
I look over at Casey when I’m ready, and he nods. I still have one headphone off, which he knows means he can talk to me now.
“After we stretch, you wanna throw the ball around?” he asks.
“Yep. Let me get my arm and shoulder worked out and stretched first. I’m definitely in the mood to launch some rockets today, so I hope you’re ready.” I hold out my fist, and he bumps it with his.
“You know it. Let’s do it.”
Once on the field, I run through my stretches and drills until I feel loose. Phil Collins is in my ear, banging on the drums, singing about what’s coming in the air tonight, and I’m feelin’ it. I air-drum along with him a few times and sing a little too. Not too loud though. My voice is shit.
I see the coaches and some of the other guys start to head back into the locker room, so I toss the ball I’m holding to one of the equipment managers and jog toward the locker room. I look up at the Jumbotron and see myself, so I lift a hand and smile, which causes some cheering. I hold up my index finger just before I enter the tunnel and hear more cheering.
Being a leader on the field and really in the eyes of the nation can hold a lot of pressure. When I first came to Walker, it all feltpretty intense, but having Liam Pitz as a mentor helped me keep things in perspective and reminded me why I was here. And I remind myself of it every time I walk into the locker room. It’s my job to get out on that field every weekend and have fun and win some football games. Plain and simple
It’s about twenty minutes until game time, and we’re all feeling the energy in the room. “Thunderstruck” is blasting through the speakers, and I nod my head along to the beat. Coach has already given us his speech, so it’s my turn. I start clapping my hands to get their attention and walk into the center of the room.
“I want you guys to think about one thing today. Think about what you had to do to get here. The drive, the determination, the work ethic—all of it brought us to this day.” I look around the room at my teammates. “And today is our fucking day!” I clap my hands. “This is our field! The eighty-five thousand fans sitting in the stands are ours!” I pace the circle, looking at each player as I pass. “They came here to see us win! This is our time! And this is our motherfuckin’ house!”
The locker room erupts in noise. My teammates are jumping up and down, getting hyped.
“Who are we?” I yell.
“STALLIONS!”
“I said, who are we?” I hold my hand to my ear and bend forward.
“STALLIONS!”
“Whose house is this?” I hold up my hand.
“OUR HOUSE!”
“Let’s go take what’s ours, boys!” I clap my hands. “Bring it in.”
Everyone huddles around me and each other.
