Chapter Twenty-One

Justin

JUSTIN LEFT AGAIN for another team visit. This one was on the West Coast, and he came back torn. It was similar in ways to the first trip but different in that they made it very clear they wanted him. They'd even asked if it was between them and Florida, and Justin had confirmed it was.

"It's like they know everything," Justin said. "It makes me wonder if they do know about you."

"The West Coast is more liberal. I mean, Florida's pretty conservative. And that governor ." Ethan let out a long whistle. He rolled his head to the side. "You so want Florida."

"I do. I want to be closer to your parents; my parents are already considering moving down there if I sign. And I like the team. Besides, governors change." Justin paused and then shrugged. "You pick."

"It doesn't work that way. They'll barter over you and trade picks; it comes down to who wants and needs you the most. Dad says Florida needs your position filled; they've struggled with one of theirs getting into legal trouble and another retiring."

Justin nodded, aware of these things. His phone rang, and Ethan went quiet.

"Hey, Coach," Justin said as he sat up. "No, sir, unless you think I should." He paused to listen. "They aren't on your list." And Ethan waited as Justin continued to listen intently. "Can you hang on one second?" Justin turned to Ethan.

"Texas wants me to come," he said with a frown. "Coach thinks I should go but also recognizes the problem there."

Ethan shook his head and mouthed a word Justin understood clearly.

"I'm going to decline unless you advise otherwise. Thank them for me, but I'd rather not waste their resources and the time they could spend on someone who wants their team." Justin listened again and ended with, "Thank you, sir. Yes, Coach."

"Well?" Ethan asked after he hung up.

"He's calling them back, has a few questions, and will call me back."

"Texas," Ethan practically spat. "That is not for us, Justin."

"I mean, they're not that bad…" Justin said, bemused by Ethan's rant.

When he talked to Coach again, he also agreed that declining was the right choice.

*

THE COMBINE WAS an experience Justin would never forget, and it was hard being away from Ethan for so long again. With jam-packed days of activities, hard-core interviews, and daily itineraries, Justin was pumped he and McReedy were roomed together.

"It's definitely a message, a sign." McReedy had high-fived him at the door.

Now, they ran the track together, warming up, and Justin was telling McReedy to stop making him laugh as they were both called over to the Florida reps. They chatted for a few minutes before the next drill and qualifications were scheduled to start and waved them on.

"Halstead." The offensive coordinator called him back. "Atlantic or Pacific?"

"Neither Coach, the Gulf of Mexico."

"Good. Go on, then; that's what I needed to know."

"I love how I have to do throwing drills," Justin grunted to himself as he threw the ball downfield and then another, and another, "when I'm a receiver." He guessed Coach must have put him down as both receiver and QB. As he hurled another and was shocked he could still throw as well as he had in the past, he chanted the mantra:

How smooth can you be?

Other than the one game he'd had to step in and help out with, Justin was happy he'd made Ethan play catch with him so much recently. His footwork felt natural, the pocket still his friend, as he'd nailed the targets. He imagined each runner was Ethan, who couldn't catch for shit—he practically had to land it in his hands, or he'd get pissed off and want to pout and quit playing.

Amused by his thoughts, Justin threw the rest of the session with that one vision in his mind. His last throw had been a nice sixty yards, with the receiver making the catch look effortless. There'd even been a few cheers from the spectators in the stands.

Justin moved to the next station, this time, throwing passes to a guy who should have been him at the pylon. After two more rounds of passing drills, Justin went for his break before his next scheduled event and flipped the page of his itinerary over to see where he needed to report to. He had twenty minutes to grab a water bottle and snack, then sat in the roped-off break area.

"Who knew you could throw a ball?" someone said as they walked by, and Justin nodded as he chewed.

He could, but that wasn't his position anymore. In high school, sure, but when he was recruited for college, the option for being a tight end was presented due to this speed and more playing time, and he jumped on it.

"Halstead," someone barked, and Justin looked up, startled, at Florida's assistant coach. "Bring your stuff; I'm walking you to your next session."

Justin gathered his snacks and water, tucked his schedule under his arm, and quickly joined him.

"Eat and walk," the AC said, then spoke on his phone: "Meet us at Section B8."

"So, you can throw," the coach continued after disconnecting. "Don't ask me how we overlooked that, but we weren't the only ones."

"High school quarterback," Justin said between mouthfuls. "Switched to receiver position in college due to my run times and wanting more playing time."

"Oh, we found those stats now ," the AC said as if amused. "If you had to choose between QB and tight end?"

"TE," Justin answered honestly. "I like to score. I love to run, but I'll play whatever position you want me to." As they walked, he drank his water and finished his apple, then chunked it in the trash.

He'd wiped his hands clean and taken a last gulp of water, when he saw who they were meeting. The head coach stood next to the offensive coordinator and the special teams coach.

"Well, Halstead ," the OC chuckled and tapped his clipboard. "As much as we want to look at you to fill our receiver position, that was quite a show you put on during the throwing drills."

"Was it?" Justin frowned, glancing at the assistant coach next to him, who nodded.

"We aren't the only ones who noticed," he said again.

"Would you be willing to play QB?" the OC asked.

"I'll be honest, I haven't played that position since high school, and only a few college games."

"And you were state champs three years running. You've been throwing somewhere," he said.

"Yes, sir, with the high school team I trained with over the summer, I threw nearly all the passes while working with the receivers. I filled in during the playoffs when our QB was injured. And I have a friend at college I toss the ball around with almost daily." Justin stepped in closer as people passed and seemed to try to listen in. "But not in a game. Just throwin' the ball, you know."

"But you've been throwing consistently over the summer with the high school kids and then with your buddy?"

Justin laughed. "Yeah, he's a terrible catcher. I have to literally put it into his hands."

"He's up in five; we have to wrap this up," an assistant said.

Justin turned to his hopefully future head coach. "I'll play whatever position you want."

He nodded, and his coordinator looked pleased as he covered his mouth with his clipboard to hide his expression so no other teams would see.

"Come on," the assistant said, gesturing to his next session.

"We'll talk more later."

"Yes, Coach," Justin said and left to check in.

*

"MAN, WHAT A day," McReedy groaned. "I'm not going to lie. I'm fixin' to straight up take my ass in that bathroom and take a hot bath."

"You want my bubbles?" Justin said with a wink.

McReedy lay on his bed and laughed his ass off without moving, and Justin shook as he joined in.

"Fuckin' bubbles, man," McReedy choked out.

They both froze at the knock on the door but were still goners as McReedy shouted for whoever it was to come in.

"We can't move; just come in. My wallet's on the dresser; just take it," he sputtered, and Justin held his side, wiping his eyes.

He stopped immediately and stood when the offensive coordinator entered.

"Something funny?" he asked, grinning at them.

"McReedy," Justin said as he pulled himself together.

"It wouldn't be as funny retellin' it, Coach," McReedy admitted. "But I was just groanin' about being sore and lowerin' my standards and checkin' out that bathtub in there. Halstead got a pretty good kick out of it." He sighed and shook his head.

"You've got some time?" the OC said to Justin and, at his nod, continued, "Grab your cleats."

McReedy gave him a wink. Justin threw on a shirt and hoodie. He grabbed his gear bag and followed the OC out.

"We're going to… play catch…so to speak," he explained after Justin got in the SUV.

"All right," Justin said. "Secret catch?"

"Exactly. Glad you're tracking."

They arrived at a high school field, and several key people were there, including a handful of players from the Florida team. Justin's eyes widened, and the OC nodded.

"You are going to throw for me like this is the Superbowl and you want that ring, got it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Stretch and warm up," he said.

After stretching, Justin took a lap around the track, taking note of precisely who was there to watch this very illegal tryout.

Justin returned to the fifty-yard line, where a kid stood by the two bins of balls.

He stuck out his hand. "Justin," he said.

"Matt," the kid said and grinned.

"You got me, Matt?" Justin asked, and the kid looked a little uncertain. "You keep 'em comin' all right?"

"You got it," Matt said.

"I'm a little nervous about this. You?"

"Yeah," the kid admitted.

Justin moved to the center of the field, and Matt tossed him a ball. Justin stepped back and threw to a player, eyes on his hands and imagining they were Ethan's again. The next guy took off running, and Matt tossed, and Justin threw. Then, the big boys came in, and Justin had to throw under pressure, to show them how creative he could get inside and outside the pocket. He had to work for some other passes they called out, and then it was distance.

Just how far could he throw?

"You got this," Matt said, arms full of balls as they moved back ten more yards. Then ten more and ten more still. Then, he was short.

"That's about right," Justin said. "That's my distance."

The coach waved everyone else in, and the OC came out to Justin.

"Hang tight out here for a few." The OC jogged back to discuss with the team players.

"Want some help?" Justin asked Matt, and they dragged the bins down to the endzone and started picking up balls together.

"You work for the team? You seem a little young," Justin said as he and Matt had a little game going of throwing the balls into the bin like basketballs.

Matt giggled. "No, I'm in eighth grade. My dad's here, but I'm not supposed to tell you that. He said he was in a pinch for a secret mission and needed my help."

Justin nodded and showed Matt a trick he knew.

Matt caught on quick and began putting the ball in the bin more times than missing afterward. "That really works," he said, but then the whistle blew, and Justin gave him a salute and ran in.

The team players were gone, and it was just the coaching staff. The OC handed Justin a towel and a water bottle, and Justin sat down in a chair across from them.

"Shit, Halstead, you still got it," the head coach said. "I'm torn. You're a damn fine receiver and a hell of a QB. What to do?"

"I'll play either. It doesn't matter, as long as I play ball," Justin said.

"Reservations. And tell me true," the coach said.

Justin went with honesty. "I don't care for the attention the QB position brings. You already know I'm not a fan of the media. I don't mind giving interviews; I hate being chased and hounded. That position brings on unwanted attention for me, but I'll play it just as hard as I would in a receiver position and hope if no one's open, you'll let me run the ball. Or play me as a receiver and backup QB. We had some success when we switched it up and—" Justin grinned. "—when the receiver was suddenly throwing, and we pulled off a few trick plays." He shrugged.

"I've seen that tape now," the OC said and nodded.

"And the West Coast—when they pull you aside tomorrow and offer you their QB spot? Because I've got to be honest, there were some pretty shocked eyes on you today. We weren't the only ones who overlooked you being on the QB lineup."

"My goal has always been Florida. I want to play for a team that supports their players. My coach listed you as the number one team on his list of where he thought I belonged."

"You have that list?"

"Yes, sir." Justin got up, went to his bag, and took out his wallet. He slipped out the folded paper and handed it over.

The OC looked at it and showed his head coach, and they seemed amused in a good way by the list.

"Okay, Halstead," he said, returning the paper to him.

Then, Justin shook hands with everyone. He followed the OC to the parking lot, where he waved to Matt, and Matt yelled out a "good luck" to him.

The coordinator seemed amused. "Made a friend?"

"Yeah, what a cool kid."