Sam Moussavi - Dallas

B OBBY DUPREE WAS A BACKUP QUARTERBACK. IT didnt bother him that this was his position on the Trinity High School varsity football team. Even off the football field, Bobby was a backup quarterback kind of guy. Not everyone was meant to be a star. It was neither desire nor politics that held Bobby backhe surely wanted to see the field. What football player doesnt? And in truth, hed always had every opportunity to earn the right to start. Bobby was smart enough to recognize his place in Trinitys quarterback pecking order: second string. The station in life he had earned.

You ready to ride the bench again this year, Dupree? Edmond asked.

Edmond Daniels was the starting quarterback at Trinity. He was a junior, like Bobby, but had long bypassed Bobby on the depth chart. Edmond was fast, and possessed a cannon for an arm.

Yeah, whatever, Bobby said, trying not to react to Edmonds grin, which accompanied every one of his well-timed digs.

It was the first practice of the season, and Trinity was expecting big things. The high school football scene in Dallas was highly competitive, just like in the rest of the state. Trinity held the preseason optimism that was commonplace for most teams in Dallas. Edmond Daniels was Trinitys most potent weapon. He would create separation from the rest of the Dallas pack and give Trinity a real chance in the playoffs. Edmond only got better with each snap he took, finishing his sophomore year with a stat line of twenty total touchdownseleven running and nine throwingand only three interceptions. And that was just in spot-starting duty. It was clear now that the team would go as far as Edmond could take it.

You know TCU is lookin at me, right, Dupree? Edmond asked.

I didnt know that, Bobby said.

But Im lookin for something better, he said. I wanna get up out of Texas.

Bobby just nodded. He didnt have to dream of getting out of Texas. Bobby had been out of the state many times in his life. Hed even been out of the country more times than he could remember.

Just gotta stay healthy, Edmond said, before bowing his head and whispering a little prayer. Not the Lords prayer, just a little something that Edmond cooked up himself to feel safe.

Edmond grabbed his helmet and ran out onto the field. Bobby grabbed his helmet and followed suit. Bobby didnt have a problem being in Edmonds shadow. He wanted to play, of course, but felt that Edmond deserved this moment.

The field behind the school was immaculatea testament to the schools groundskeeper who was kept on staff year round. The turf had that awe-inspiring look and feel of a football field before it is taken over by twenty-two players and torn to shreds. The team was on the field under the ubiquitous August sun. Defensive backs were talking smack to receivers and vice versa. Offensive linemen were mostly quiet in their pudgy stoicism. Bobby stood next to Edmond and the third quarterback, Mickey Montoya, a freshman from Arlington. The trio stretched out their calves, quads, and hip flexors. Edmond lorded over the rest of the team because he could. Bobby simply worried about loosening up.

About five minutes later, the coaching staff graced the perfectly green field of battle. The head coach, Brett Stud Davis, was the last one out. He was a rock star in the Dallas high school football scene and one of the youngest head coaches to be named head football coach in Dallas, and the youngest one to ever win a Texas Six-A Division One championship. But the second championship had so far proven to be elusive.

Brettor Stud as he preferredwas now looking over his shoulder.

Lets get to it! Stud called out.

The whole team met in a circle around the fifty-yard line. Stud was in the middle of the circle, looking outward, scanning the entire three hundred and sixty degrees. He spat, blew his whistle, and then pointed in the direction of the team helpers standing in the eastern end zone. Country music filled the space in and around the field, and the whole team laughed. If there was anything that Stud pined for more than winning another Texas Six-A Division One championship, country music would be that thing.

Oklahoma drill! Stud yelled over the sounds of shrill guitars and beer-soaked lyrics.

The circle tightened around Stud and suddenly there was less air to breath, and even less time to make sense of it all.

Degarmo! Stud howled. You and Mundy first!

The circle growled and constricted further. Troy Degarmo was Trinitys mammoth left tackle, already committed to the University of Arkansas. Alton Mundy was a talented, but not always productive, defensive tackle. They squared off in the center of the circle, and besides Kenny Chesney and the circles chants for blood, not another sound could be heard.

Underneath the shoulder pads of both Degarmo and Mundy, there was the ever-present thumping of their hearts. Every football player felt this sensation before stepping on the field; the inherent danger of the sport would never allow for relaxation, no matter how seasoned the players. This feeling was only amplified when put on display in the Oklahoma Drill.

Degarmo took his three-point stance, and Mundy took a four-point stance. Stud let them get set. The anticipation rattled both in and out of the circle. Degarmo flexed his left hand. Sweat poured down Mundys face as he looked down at the grass and counted a few individual blades.

Stud blew his whistle and then there was thunder. The two players went for it because this was no place to show weakness. The drill was meant to instill competition, yet there was a more primal motive on display as well. A player could not back down from another player lest he be weeded out. The tone for the season depended on this process. The more players who were weeded out early, the better off the team would be.

After the initial stalemate, Degarmo overpowered Mundy and drove him back into the circle. Mundy was lifted off his feet and planted on his back. Stud blew his whistle and ran over to Degarmo, smacking him on the helmet and whipping the circle into a frenzy.