The first day of school ended up being one of the worst and one of the best, if I’m honest.

I thought Emmiline was absolutely gorgeous. I wanted to get to know her, but it would seem that the powers-that-be did not allow such good fortune such as a good conversation and some mutual flirting between us. I had another class with Jerry. It was really funny. I kind of imagined getting to know and making friends with the people on the football team, but after the first football practice, I found something out.

The football players are huge, throbbing dicks.

I’m not a big guy, but I was tall and I was in good shape, but to the football players, I was some sort of pipsqueak. Even as I jogged out in pads and some workout clothes, they laughed at the tiny guy. Coach Fogelsmeyer was out there to say hi to me.

“Looking good, kid.” He said, clapping me on the back.

“Why does it seem like I’m the runt of the litter?” I asked, looking at the team. He laughed.

“Well, you’ll put on the weight. It’s a guarantee by the end of the season.” He smiled. “Alright. Now, get stretched out. We’re gonna get you started on some position drills. Find out what you’re best suited for.”

I headed out to the field and over to where some other guys were stretching and as I got closer, I noticed who was leading it.

Mrs. Raylene Fogelsmeyer. She waved at me and I took my place in the back, joining in the stretching. Soon enough she excused herself to go coach volleyball and coach brought us around.

“Sampson. I want you at Cornerback. Cover Clark over here for a couple plays. I want to see your speed and Clark is one of our fastest.” He said, shoving Clark in my direction. He was a big guy. Not taller than me, but just bigger.

“Stay on him, Sampson. Show us what you can do.” Coach said, heading off to the sidelines.

I can’t tell you how many times we ran that same drill. Different plays. Different receivers. About an hour’s worth of the practice. I just remember my legs burning. Clark didn’t touch the ball. I could tell he was furious. Eventually, Coach brought us back together again. Same drill, but Clark and I switched places. After the announcement, I wanted to ask coach why he hated me. I looked over at Clark and he had the biggest shit-eating grin on his face.

I ran back to the line and as soon as I heard ‘hut’ I took off. I could tell that Clark wanted to rip my head off my neck, so the first three runs, I missed my route out of fear. Coach basically kept a lap count in his head. He had the spreadsheet in his mind of all the players and kept a running tab of people that were going to be his bitch on the track after practice. Based on the number of laps I ran in the future, it was 5 laps a fuck-up. It was a simple hook route, but I’d always go too long or I’d hook too far. Something to that extent, but I finally got it after the fourth try.

And Clark kicked my ass. Hit me so hard, I thought I had died. It felt like getting hit by a bus. And he did that every time. Hut. Run. Catch. Dead. And every time the other guys on the team had a good chuckle at me, but I got up and we ran it again. For an hour. That lasted way too long in opinion, but eventually we moved onto the next thing. Max cheered when we started. I was put at tight end. I lined up in position across from a guy named Jonathan.

I have a cousin named Jonathan and he was a nice enough guy. Quiet. Played tuba.

This Jonathan was one of the many assholes on the football team. I’m not only saying that because he’s the guy laying me out every minute, but I’m also saying that because the first thing he did was tell me.

“I’m gonna tear your arms off, fresh meat.” His exact words. Kim had told me that the players like to be a little rough to the new guys, but this seemed excessive.

I was supposed to block in this new play, but every time I went to block, Jonathan would run me over. Now, Max and I alternated plays. Coach said that I could learn by watching Max and he was right, sort of. Max told me that when I block, I need to want to rip the other guy’s head off more than he wants to rip mine off. That made me laugh, but he was being completely serious.

The next play, I lined up and I looked Jonathan right in the eyes. I hated him. He was beating the shit out of me and I was tired of it. I was going to tear him a new one. I smiled and the ball was snapped.

And I still got put on my ass.

I was fortunate that the final drill was the final drill. I took a lot of damage that practice and by the last drill, I was sorer than I had ever been. And then the final drill happened.

I was put in as tight end. Coach said that my blocking would need to be worked on, but there was a lot of potential. He told me that I’d need to wait out the ‘new meat’ phase. Once all of the candy spilled out of the piñata that was my body, I would no longer be of interest as a punching bag. I was assigned a short slant route. I was basically told to delay a lineman for a moment and then buzz past him, run 5 yards and look for the ball. That’s exactly what I did and I caught the ball no problem.

Now, I don’t know and I didn’t know before this practice, what it was like to have your shoulder stepped on by a football cleat with a 300 pound guy in it. The pads do a lot, but it seemed to miss as I felt the clear and familiar sound of something enormously fucking painful happening in my shoulder. I was piled onto as I expected, but in the mass of feet, arms, torsos, legs, and helmets, my shoulder was trampled on. I shouted in pain and people cleared quickly. Marshall was the one who noticed me holding my arm and he waved Coach over. The two of them helped me up and I stood fine on my own, but my arm was a lifeless mess.

“He’s a pussy!” I heard someone shout from the back of the crowd.