The Cheerleader // Rob Gronkowski

f i f t e e n

I sighed as I walked into the indoor practice field, plopping my coffee cup on a table near the sideline. I loved game day, but it made for an early morning, especially when the boys played at 1:00.

Glancing at the clock, I let a groan escape my lips. 7:32 AM. The team would be here in half an hour and I still needed to warm myself up and get organized. As the Patriots continued to do well, and we drew even closer to playoffs, it was even more important that my squad looked good, both physically and in cheer terms. This job put extreme focus on your body and looks, but I loved it anyways.

Stripping my sweatshirt off, I bent down and started to slowly stretch my muscles out. Once I felt a little warmer, I performed a plank complex, and then a short jog around the field. By that point, girls were starting to trickle in, all looking like they had just rolled out of bed. That needed to be fixed.

I stopped my run at the center of the field. "Ladies!" I called, and they all wandered to meet me. Up close, it looked like a few of them were still sleeping. I mentally groaned. Yes, it was early, but part of the expectations of being on this team was looking presentable at all team functions, including early morning practice.

"We need to discuss some protocol here. First, you never - and I mean never - come into any team-related event looking like you just got out of bed. There is a level of expectation and scrutiny that comes with being an NFL cheerleader, and yes, it sucks to have to put on makeup and hair when you just want to sleep, but that's part of the job. I'm not asking you to be in full hair and makeup, but even if I call you in here at 2 in the morning, you still need to have your hair in some organized fashion and some kind of makeup on so that you look awake. Also, I don't care what time it is, when your captain calls you over, you run. I have no patience for laziness. Now, 2 warmup laps."

I hated sounding bossy, but sometimes it had to be done. We finished our laps, and I lead them through a long yoga strengthening session. By the end, I was ready to fall over and collapse in a puddle of tired muscles and sweat, but I pulled it together and stood up, "Ok ladies, go shower and start getting ready for the game."

~

30 minutes later, I walked out of the captain's office in my cropped jersey and white shorts and surveyed the locker room. Girls, clothes, and makeup supplies were everywhere. I sighed.  I needed to talk organization with them, but that was a conversation for another day. I clapped my hands, and immediately, all chatter stopped and all heads turned towards me. Now that was more like it.

"You have an hour to be in full hair, makeup, and uniform. You must be wearing your cropped jersey, white booty shorts, white sports bra, white boots, and red earrings. I also want warm-ups on. For hair, as usual, loose curls - think natural and big, not ringlets. Usual makeup as well - red lips, falsies, neutral smokey eye, you know the drill. Thank you ladies," and with that, I headed back to my "office" to do my own hair and makeup.

~

Finishing the last touches of my lipstick, I quickly put on the team earrings and headed out of my office. The girls were already lined up on the goal line for inspection. It sounds incredibly militant and ridiculous, but NFL cheerleaders are under the microscope at all times, and we needed to make sure everyone stood up to team standards. I scanned down the line, making sure everyone looked good. Finally, my eyes landed on Monica.

The girl was still wearing number 87, and she knew it pissed me off. The smirk on her red lips was very visible. I kept my eyes moving, pretending to not notice, but inside, I was furious. Rob and I were a very well-known couple, and although I wasn't a crazy, clingy girlfriend, it made me mad that she was so obvious in her pursuit of my boyfriend. I had a feeling that she wouldn't let me ignore her forever.