I Hate Football Players 3 | 18+

Chapter 34: Logan

"Eyes on me Huskies!" Coach Peterson barked out through the hum of the pregame locker room conversations, quiet reflections, and pregame superstition rituals.

After my tryout, Coach Peterson told me on my UW visit almost three years ago that Huskies' Stadium had been renovated recently, including how the locker rooms were completely redone three months ago. Even though the purple and white LED lights made the interior locker space look like a spaceship, the rest of the building still held its original 1920 design.

He walked around the perimeter of the room and locked eyes with every player who silently stared at him with stoic respect. "We've put in a lot of hard work, preparing for this season," he started in a stern voice. "Every one of you has earned your place on this team, the privilege of wearing Huskies' purple and gold."

"We always start the beginning of each season with expectations," he continued and lifted one pointed finger towards the exit door. "Every one of those fans out there is sitting with expectations, you know the other coaches and I have our expectations."

A low chuckle rang out with nodded heads at his admission, which he grinned at, then pounded one fist against his chest. "Nothing weighs as much as the expectations you have for yourselves. We all have it, that drive, that push, that hunger. Take it, feed on it, use it, and let's show everyone how Huskies set the tone for this season!"

After Coach Peterson's pregame pep talk and Emmitt's hype-up speech, we lined up for the first game of our season. Our cleats clicked in staccato beats that mixed with the wavelike crowd noise sounds that increased the further along we walked in the cement tunnel to the field entrance. Once we stood behind a few male and female cheerleaders that held really large Husky flags, we stopped for our cue.

"Behind me, New Guy." Emmitt tossed a grin over his shoulder at me. If he hadn't been so cocky, I would've returned the grin but only shook my head. Wes lined up behind him but before I realized what happened, both of my hands were grabbed. A quick look on either side showed Kade on my left and Seth on my right. Both of their eyes were lit up with a contagious excitement that thrummed through me.

Somewhere behind me, a loud voice called out, "Dawgs in the house!"

Very quickly, another "Dawgs in the house!" rang out, followed by a chorus. "Dawgs in the house!"

A fluttered excitement ran through me when we broke into the repeated, "Dawgs in the house! Dawgs in the house! Dawgs in the house! Who!"

The chants increased, louder and louder, as we announced as one cohesive group that we'd arrived. We were here, ready to start the session and not just win but crush our opponent.

"Let's go Dawgs!" Emmitt roared once the black gates were opened.

Our cleats thundered down the cement tunnel as the opening roars of the crowd rumbled through us. Behind the cheer squad's lines that extended the tunnel onto the edge of the field, a sea of purple smoke filtered through the air. We ran forwards, down the aisle that the Husky Band lined up, all the way to the opposite thirty-yard line. Once my feet hit the turf, a loud, fire alarm-like sound pierced my ears and fortunately Kade and Reese dropped my hands.

After all the fanfare and excitement from our team entrance... my ass rode the bench for most of the game. The electricity in the gameday atmosphere, game opener at home against a PAC-12 division rival team, was contagious. So I sat on the edge of my bench during the game or paced a few times, particularly at the defensive stonewall the Ducks put up against our offense.

From the field, the stadium's layout felt like the fans sat on top of us. During renovations, apparently a track was removed so that the stands were just feet from the player benches. The lake and mountain views around us were unarguably amazing and the fans were so close that I heard personal conversations and various forms of 'encouragement,' but my focus was only on the artificial turf-level action.