The Game Changer
Two.
The next week and a half was filled with saying goodbye to my best friends and packing. The 1,700 mile, one day journey from Pennsylvania to Texas was absolutely horrible and somehow my father and I managed not to rip each others heads off.
Dillon was a small town. And when I say small, I mean really, really fucking small and man, did they love their football. Everywhere you looked there were Dillon Panther signs, which was kind of ironic because my old school mascot was a panther too. The first thing my mom did when we got slightly settled in to our two bedroom, one bathroom, pea sized house that looked like something out of Little House on the Prairie, was take me to meet the coach of the Dillon Panthers.
I had spoken to him on the phone once but other than that my mom had done all of the communicating. He told my mom to meet him at school, since two-a-day practices had already begun.
"Jesus Christ." I murmured as we pulled up to the football field. Fuck that, it wasn't a field, it was a god damn stadium. High school football was kind of big in Pennsylvania but it was nothing like this.
My mom parked the car and looked over at me. "You look great, honey."
"Mom, I'm going to watch a football practice, you don't need to tell me I look great." I pushed open the car door and walked toward the field (stadium).
The second I walked through the entrance I immediately knew I was in over my head. I could tell my mom felt the same way by the way she mumbled "wow." The guys were huge. Ten times the size they were back home and it looked like a fucking NFL practice was going on. We stood there and watched in awe for a few minutes until a man approached us.
"Can I help you ladies?" His southern accent was thick and his breath smelled like chewing tobacco. He had on a Dillon Panthers shirt, so I'm guessing he was part of the coaching staff.
"Uh, yeah. My name's Nicole. I'm supposed to be meeting Coach Taylor." The second I said my name he began shaking his head up and down.
"Of course, of course. I should've known. I'm coach Johnson. Defensive coordinator. Here, follow me." I smiled and followed him across the field to where Coach Taylor was standing. I couldn't help but stare as a group of guys, linemen I'm guessing, worked on their tackling. Now, I'm pretty tall for a girl. I'm about 5'11" and I weigh about 120 pounds but I have some muscle. These guys are all well over 6 feet tall and weighed at least 200 pounds. They could snap me in half with one hand tied behind their backs.
"Heads up!" I was shaken from my thoughts as I heard my mom screaming and felt a football hit me square in the nose. I brought the back of my hand to my face and only saw a bit of blood so I knew that my nose wasn't broken. I bent down and picked up the football. When I looked up I saw that Coach Taylor was walking towards me.
"Nicole, are you okay? You're bleeding, here let me grab a tissue." My mom frantically reached into her purse and began searching for a tissue.
"It's not broken. I'm fine, calm down."
"I'm sorry about that. You alright there?" Coach Taylor asked as he looked at my nose.
"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm off to a great start." I said, as I looked down at the football in my hands. What I really wanted to say was that getting hit in the face was probably a sign from god that I should run and never look back.
Coach Taylor smiled one of the warmest smiles I have ever seen and reached out his hand for me to shake. "Coach Taylor. It's a pleasure to meet you."
He introduced himself to my mom, then introduced me to the entire coaching staff. He gave me a rundown of their practices and I smiled and nodded my head when I really wanted to ask someone to kill me. Don't get me wrong, I loved football. It was the two-a-days that I hated.
"So, that's pretty much it. Nicole, why don't you come with me and I'll introduce you to the captains. Mrs. Ferra, if you don't mind?" Coach Taylor directed me away from my mother and onto the field.
"Smash, Saracen, Riggins." He yelled.
I watched as the three of them came trotting toward us. The one in the middle looked pretty scrawny and I thought to myself that I might actually be able to take him down. The one to his right wasn't much bigger than he was but the one to his left looked like he could kill me with a flick of his wrist. When they came to a halt in front of us they took their helmets off. He began introducing the three of them but I didn't hear a word he said. I was too busy staring at the guy on the left.
"...and this is Tim Riggins. He's our fullback. You got all that, Nicole?" I snapped out of it when I heard my name.
"Yep, got it." I smiled, trying to hide the fact that I was close to drooling over Tim Riggins, the fullback. I also had completely forgotten that I probably had dried blood on my face. How charming.
"The two of you can get back to practice," Coach Taylor said, pointing at Matt Saracen and Smash. "Riggins, you stay here a minute." He turned his attention to me. "Last year we had an accident because one of my boys didn't know how to tackle the right way."
"Yeah, Jason Street right? I remember hearing about that. I didn't know that was this high school." Jason Street was a quarterback, if I remember correctly, who went to tackle someone and hit him wrong and was paralyzed. I went to my coach at the time with the story because he refused to teach me how to tackle and all he said was "just focus your pretty little mind on kicking." Dick.
"Right. You'll be working with Tim tomorrow for the first part of practice working on tackling for a bit. I want to get that out of the way. Why don't you take her over and let her see some of the tackling drills, Tim." And with that, Coach Taylor walked away.
"Everything alright there?" Tim looked at me, squinting his eyes.
"What?"
"You've got some blood on your face." He pointed at my nose.
"Oh yeah, I'm fine. I got hit with a ball back there." I rubbed my nose with the back of my hand until I had gotten off most of the blood.
He nodded his head and began walking so I followed him. He took me over to where the linemen were running tackling drills.
"I don't really know what coach wanted me to show you."
"Neither do I."
We stood in silence as we watched guys get tackled onto the ground and all I could think about was Tim Riggins tackling me and laying on top of me. Shit.
Dillon was a small town. And when I say small, I mean really, really fucking small and man, did they love their football. Everywhere you looked there were Dillon Panther signs, which was kind of ironic because my old school mascot was a panther too. The first thing my mom did when we got slightly settled in to our two bedroom, one bathroom, pea sized house that looked like something out of Little House on the Prairie, was take me to meet the coach of the Dillon Panthers.
I had spoken to him on the phone once but other than that my mom had done all of the communicating. He told my mom to meet him at school, since two-a-day practices had already begun.
"Jesus Christ." I murmured as we pulled up to the football field. Fuck that, it wasn't a field, it was a god damn stadium. High school football was kind of big in Pennsylvania but it was nothing like this.
My mom parked the car and looked over at me. "You look great, honey."
"Mom, I'm going to watch a football practice, you don't need to tell me I look great." I pushed open the car door and walked toward the field (stadium).
The second I walked through the entrance I immediately knew I was in over my head. I could tell my mom felt the same way by the way she mumbled "wow." The guys were huge. Ten times the size they were back home and it looked like a fucking NFL practice was going on. We stood there and watched in awe for a few minutes until a man approached us.
"Can I help you ladies?" His southern accent was thick and his breath smelled like chewing tobacco. He had on a Dillon Panthers shirt, so I'm guessing he was part of the coaching staff.
"Uh, yeah. My name's Nicole. I'm supposed to be meeting Coach Taylor." The second I said my name he began shaking his head up and down.
"Of course, of course. I should've known. I'm coach Johnson. Defensive coordinator. Here, follow me." I smiled and followed him across the field to where Coach Taylor was standing. I couldn't help but stare as a group of guys, linemen I'm guessing, worked on their tackling. Now, I'm pretty tall for a girl. I'm about 5'11" and I weigh about 120 pounds but I have some muscle. These guys are all well over 6 feet tall and weighed at least 200 pounds. They could snap me in half with one hand tied behind their backs.
"Heads up!" I was shaken from my thoughts as I heard my mom screaming and felt a football hit me square in the nose. I brought the back of my hand to my face and only saw a bit of blood so I knew that my nose wasn't broken. I bent down and picked up the football. When I looked up I saw that Coach Taylor was walking towards me.
"Nicole, are you okay? You're bleeding, here let me grab a tissue." My mom frantically reached into her purse and began searching for a tissue.
"It's not broken. I'm fine, calm down."
"I'm sorry about that. You alright there?" Coach Taylor asked as he looked at my nose.
"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm off to a great start." I said, as I looked down at the football in my hands. What I really wanted to say was that getting hit in the face was probably a sign from god that I should run and never look back.
Coach Taylor smiled one of the warmest smiles I have ever seen and reached out his hand for me to shake. "Coach Taylor. It's a pleasure to meet you."
He introduced himself to my mom, then introduced me to the entire coaching staff. He gave me a rundown of their practices and I smiled and nodded my head when I really wanted to ask someone to kill me. Don't get me wrong, I loved football. It was the two-a-days that I hated.
"So, that's pretty much it. Nicole, why don't you come with me and I'll introduce you to the captains. Mrs. Ferra, if you don't mind?" Coach Taylor directed me away from my mother and onto the field.
"Smash, Saracen, Riggins." He yelled.
I watched as the three of them came trotting toward us. The one in the middle looked pretty scrawny and I thought to myself that I might actually be able to take him down. The one to his right wasn't much bigger than he was but the one to his left looked like he could kill me with a flick of his wrist. When they came to a halt in front of us they took their helmets off. He began introducing the three of them but I didn't hear a word he said. I was too busy staring at the guy on the left.
"...and this is Tim Riggins. He's our fullback. You got all that, Nicole?" I snapped out of it when I heard my name.
"Yep, got it." I smiled, trying to hide the fact that I was close to drooling over Tim Riggins, the fullback. I also had completely forgotten that I probably had dried blood on my face. How charming.
"The two of you can get back to practice," Coach Taylor said, pointing at Matt Saracen and Smash. "Riggins, you stay here a minute." He turned his attention to me. "Last year we had an accident because one of my boys didn't know how to tackle the right way."
"Yeah, Jason Street right? I remember hearing about that. I didn't know that was this high school." Jason Street was a quarterback, if I remember correctly, who went to tackle someone and hit him wrong and was paralyzed. I went to my coach at the time with the story because he refused to teach me how to tackle and all he said was "just focus your pretty little mind on kicking." Dick.
"Right. You'll be working with Tim tomorrow for the first part of practice working on tackling for a bit. I want to get that out of the way. Why don't you take her over and let her see some of the tackling drills, Tim." And with that, Coach Taylor walked away.
"Everything alright there?" Tim looked at me, squinting his eyes.
"What?"
"You've got some blood on your face." He pointed at my nose.
"Oh yeah, I'm fine. I got hit with a ball back there." I rubbed my nose with the back of my hand until I had gotten off most of the blood.
He nodded his head and began walking so I followed him. He took me over to where the linemen were running tackling drills.
"I don't really know what coach wanted me to show you."
"Neither do I."
We stood in silence as we watched guys get tackled onto the ground and all I could think about was Tim Riggins tackling me and laying on top of me. Shit.