Treyvon, my roommate, and I are up at the crack of dawn, heading to the stadium.
“What’s that?” Treyvon says, pointing to a piece of paper in my hand.
“Oh, it’s something for my quarterback coach. Something I did in high school. Seemed to work, so I thought I would try it again.”
He tries to grab it from me. When I swipe it away, he laughs at me. “You know I could just tackle you.”
And he’s right. He could. He’s got two sixty on a six-six frame and plays on the defensive side of the ball.
“I’m faster,” I say with an eyebrow raised in challenge, knowing I can run a four-point-five forty-yard dash as I take off running toward the stadium.
Surprisingly, he’s right behind me. We’re both a little out of breath six blocks later when we get just outside the doors.
“I could still tackle you,” he says. “And for the record, I can run the forty in under five seconds, so just tell me what it is.”
“Goals.”
“What kind of goals?”
“Team goals for my time here. What I want us to accomplish.”
“We were so close in so many games last year. Coach said we needed to learn what it felt like to win. Win big. Gain confidence. I know what that feels like from high school. I know you do, too. And with the starting QB and most of the defensive line gone this year, either from transfers or graduation, I like my chances of getting playing time. I want in on these goals.”
I hand him the piece of paper.
When he reads the first goal, he lets out a whistle. “National championship.”
“Yeah, preferably a few.”
He keeps reading my list. There are a lot of goals, but none are personal. They are all team goals. Division and league championships. All-American players. Record-setting passing and receiving yards. Even goals for the defense.
“You know, I could have written this myself freshman year, but then …”
“You didn’t play, and the team kept losing?”
“Exactly. It brings you down. One, because you think you can do better. And two, you’re used to winning. My high school team won two state championships when I was there.”
“We won them, too.”
“Why do you think that is? What makes a team great? What makes the magic?” he wonders aloud. “And how do we bring it on the field with us and spread it around?”
I don’t have to think twice. “Respect.”
“Respect for what exactly?”
“Your teammates. Your leaders. In my experience, you don’t have to be a senior or a captain to make a difference. You start with yourself. You work really hard. You help others. You spend time together off the field. In a way, it’s like a relationship. You need good chemistry, and you get through the tough times by working hard and building trust.”
“We need to play some smashmouth football, like they did in the old days.”
“Couldn’t agree more. Thus, the list,” I say. “Should we show the list to a few other guys? See if we can get some buy-in? Present it to the coaches together?”
“You don’t think it’s too cocky?” he asks. “Like arrogant maybe?”
“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with setting goals. Especially when you know you are going to do everything in your power to accomplish them. Come on. It’s freezing out here. Let’s get inside.”
We go into the stadium, which is always impressive. Two stories, trophies in cases, and lots of red. A storied history.
Treyvon doesn’t go toward the hallway that leads to the weight and locker rooms. Instead, he walks to the center of the entry hall and sits on a bench, taking it all in. “I grew up dreaming of this.”
“Me, too,” I say, sitting down next to him. “My parents have been fans their whole lives, and so have I. Watched pretty much every game for as long as I can remember.”
“And Danny Diamond is your godfather, right?”
“He is.”
“I know we didn’t meet at your recruiting visit, but I heard all about it. And I will admit, most of us watched the video of you. That amazing play. What’s it like to make it on a national sports network in high school?” He gives me a wink and a nudge. “Bring the girls in?”
Treyvon makes me laugh because he reminds me of Damon and loves the ladies.
“Not exactly. I was kind of dating someone then.”
“Someone else with the last name Diamond, I heard.”
“We are now, but while she was in college and I was in high school, it was a little difficult sometimes.”
“I’ll bet. That really why you’re here early?”
“I had planned to graduate early since before I started high school. But, yeah, Damon didn’t want to miss all that senior-year stuff. Prom, graduation. I got both things I wanted by coming here early. Being with her and getting a jump start on the incoming competition this fall.”
“You think you’ll start?”
“That’s the goal. How about you?”
“That’s the goal,” he replies with a grin. “Let’s make it a reality, shall we?”
But then he hands the paper back to me. “Go ahead and give this to Coach. And I don’t mean your QB coach. I mean, the head coach. Then, we get to work. Show these guys we’re serious.”
“Sounds like a plan.” And it does. I realize it also feels good to have someone on my side on this.
Well, someone besides Dani. What I didn’t tell Treyvon was that this letter isn’t the only motivational item I brought with me from home—I’ve already hung the cupcake and dream notes in my locker.
After my workout, I call Damon. It’s just not the same, working out without him.
“Bro,” he says when he answers. “You know I’m literally in class right now.”
“Why did you answer then?”
“Because,” he says in a loud voice, “I got Chase Mackenzie on the line!”
I hear cheers in the background. And it sort of makes me sad. Everyone at school was supportive of our team. Of me. And don’t get me wrong, I’m excited to be here, but I’m starting over again. Without my best friend by my side.
“I miss you,” I tell him.
“He misses us!” he says to the class. “Even you, Coach.”
“Ah, you finally took Global History.”
“Yep. Had to wait until I won Coach another state championship ring, so I’d be sure he’d pass me.”
I hear Coach make a huffing sound in the background, and then he says, “Diamond, why don’t you take your call out in the hall. But get your butt back in here quick.”
“Yes, Coach,” Damon says, and then I hear a door shut. “All right, bro. So, what’s it like? You kicking ass and taking names?”
“It’s been a week.”
“Plenty of time,” he says.
“Remember freshman year—well, and every year after—how I—”
“Gave Coach the goal list?”
“Yeah.”
Damon lets out a loud whistle, then goes, “Oh, not you, Ms. Harper, but you are looking lovely today. Just talking to my boy, Chase, here.” Then he says to me, “Sorry, busy place. What did Coach Markel say?”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t give it to the QB coach.”
“No!”
“Yes!”
“You gave it to the head coach, Coach Parson?”
“I did.”
“What did he say?”
“Impressive list.”
“That’s it?” Damon asks. “He should have been jumping up and down in joy that someone wants to make the team great again. Of course, maybe he doesn’t want to get too excited until I get there. I can understand that.”
I can’t help but laugh. Damon always knows how to lighten the mood.
“I bet you’re right about that. I know I can’t wait to throw to you again. I took some receivers out onto the field for fun, played a little pitch and catch.” I sigh. “They aren’t you, Damon. And it’s possible that a few of them dropped the ball on purpose.”
“Trying to make you look bad?”
“Not sure yet, but maybe.”
“Stop passing to them then. Get some guys who give a shit and want to get better. Don’t try starting from the top. Work your way up from the bottom, like we always do. How’s being there with my sister?”
“It’s great. Really great. I mean, last week was crazy with the start of school, but I’m sure things will settle down once we get into a new routine.”
“I got me a new routine,” he says softly. “Abigail Marelli.”
“That kind of shocks me,” I say with a laugh. “She’s really smart.”
“She’s my physics partner, and I expect we’ll be partnering soon in some other ways. Starting tomorrow night, when she comes over after practice to study. Did I mention she’s purposely been wearing low-cut sweaters?”
“You didn’t.”
“Diamond!” I hear Coach’s voice call out. “Time’s up. And, Mackenzie, give ’em hell up there. A little shock and awe.”
“Good advice, Coach,” Damon says to both of us. “And on that note, I’d better go.”
