It was a good pass. It felt good. It looked good for the screaming fans and press attending our training camp. I could feel it. This was going to be my season. My year.My championship.Bryon finished his stretches and hooted at me. “Baby, you kicked it up a notch this offseason.”“Fuckin’ know it.” I took the bottle from the trainer but dosed myself with the cool water. Goddamned August was killing me, and it was only the first week of camp. “Just a preview of what’s coming, gentlemen.”Bryon revved the team up. “Watch out!”“Better start working up new nicknames. Play-Maker’s gonna become the stuff of dreams.”The guys laughed. Bryon mocked me, hands in the air. “Preach it, Jack.”“I’m the baddest motherfucker on this field. You best be calling your mommas on Monday. Ain’t no one rocking you to sleep Sunday night after you get fucked by me.”The team cheered, my offensive linemen heralding the charge with another blitz of profanity. My back-up nudged me.
