I Loved You First

Chapter 6: William

AUGUST

"This is our year, I can feel it!" Carter says emphatically as he jumps across the locker room, snapping a damp towel on anyone within reach.

I hear like comments float from guy to guy and instantly feel my jaw tighten.

Here we go, again.

This happens every year. We have a few good intersquad scrimmages and everyone starts talking about how great we're going to be.

I'm all for positive thinking, but the problem lies in the fact that the second we hit a rough game, we have no resilience. The highs are high and the lows are low. We aren't a terrible team, there's some potential here, but, per usual, we lack the vision and leadership of a good coaching staff.

In the three years I've been at this school we've gone through two coaches and this year makes the third. Each coach comes in with big promises, but quickly shows their hand with a poor game plan and even poorer character.

Every year, I hope for someone to look up to. Someone solid that can help guide in both football and life. Someone that inspires and pushes us all to a new level, but it never comes. Instead, my hope to ever have that kind of leader diminishes with each year that passes.

Year after damn year.

"Middlebury won't know what hit them tomorrow. We've got the best linebacker in the state. Isn't that right, Rhodes!" Graham proclaims, waving around a copy of today's paper while the other guys egg him on.

I force a smile and shake my head disapprovingly as I walk to the showers.

As if I didn't already have a target on my back, today the local Times ran a front page article on whether or not I can single handedly get this team back to a winning season.

The title? The Rhode Back.

I've avoided reading it all day and keep playing off comments like Graham's the best I can. Not because I doubt my ability, but because it feels like rubbing salt in a wound.

You see, Wembley has been in the bottom half of our division for decades. Some call it a curse, others a drought, but regardless, it's not the place to be if you care anything about football.

Trust me.

What makes it all the worse is that less than ten miles down the road, there's Middlebury.

Middlebury has been the top football program in our division and state for over a decade. They consistently win state championships, their roster is loaded, the coaching staff is the real deal, and they've been funneling players into college programs for years.

My first two years of high school, when I realized football was my ticket to the college of my choice, I begged my parents to send me to Middlebury for a better chance at it. We would have had to move to the other side of town to make it happen and for reasons I still don't understand, they said no, leaving tension between us ever since.

The fact that my dream school hasn't come calling? Yeah, that's been building a resentment I've been fighting - and mostly failing - to keep at bay.

I've fought and worked and done my best to rise to the top of our division regardless, but it never feels like it's good enough.

So, I never feel good enough.

Half of my time I spend worrying that if I don't play the game of my life every Friday night that I'll be letting everyone down and the other half worrying that my teammates or coaches might not show up at all.

Our season opener tomorrow night... It's against Middlebury. So, you see? Salt in a wound.

"Get a move on, Rhodes. Bonfire has already started," Carter pushes as he sprays an inordinate amount of Abercrombie Fierce on his jersey. It was good stuff back when we were thirteen.