Chapter Text
The first freshman game, the start of a season, nobody attended, besides a couple of mothers with their children who would play chase on the empty bleachers. Trinity’s freshmen played against Monument’s. Both of their Varsity and JV were mediocre or just plain terrible, making Renault not sure what to expect. He was supposed to pass the ball to the running back, yet something felt off about the defense. Instead, he faded back after Adamo’s snap; he fried apple cider doughnuts for his o-line, in hopes that once more they would block for him. He watched as his running back led the defense away; a few strays attempted to push against the linemen.
Follow the flow, murmuring, he ran from his wall of safety, he looked to the tight end, he hadn’t had much time with the ball. Renault mimicked The Goober’s long strides, pushing himself away from the edge of the field to the center. At the time, he knew it was dumb, but he couldn’t help but try. The crunch of the fake turf, his strides made him feel as if he could fly. Freedom of his legs somehow made throwing a pass less daunting. From the corner of his eye, through the metal bars of his helmet, he saw a safety make his way towards him. They were around the same age, yet no matter what, the defensive line filled fear to nineteen’s core, lighter than Archie Costello’s assaults. Football gave Renault control after it was stripped away from him.
As he ran further, his end planted himself in the endzone. Cocking his arm. Keeping both eyes open, the safety lunged at him. Taking both of them flying as they were both lightweight. Regardless, nineteen made a complete pass to eighty-seven, quarterback mid tackle, throwing a twenty-three-yard ball to his end. The tight-end, catching the leatherskin with big gloved hands, pulling it to his stomach. The Doves score changed from 3:3 to 9:3. Renault not once shut his eyes; he turned his head so that when he fell, the turf would not brush against his cheek. The act made the tackle embarrassing. Safety and quarterback staring at one another as their helmets made a thud once in contact.
The two slide across the field as if someone had gone past the line at a bowling alley; only they would get orange slices instead of pepperoni pizza. Pepperoni face. The Goober, wide receiver. Renault hated playing as wide receiver. Of course, he simply wanted to be a part of the team, no matter the position; but after playing only as quarterback for a week straight, had changed him. He wanted to be a quarterback, even if he didn’t look “quarterbacky”. The safety tried to get up, only to pull the quarterback with him; the face bars had clicked together at the tackle. Forced to be in sync forty-two and nineteen, slowly got up. Both apologized, but unable to speak above a whisper. Struggling to walk with their heads stuck together, they shuffled to their coaches as they stared at them as if they were a two-headed lab. The safety shared a similar nose to Renault’s mother, lighter than he was, both nineteen and forty-two’s eyes large, stopping in their steps to the sidelines.
“This school lets you play quarterback?” The safety asked, amazed and almost hopeful at the sight.
“Yeah, a lot of the guys, and their parents, don’t like me playing. They say I ain’t-”
“Quarterbacky.” Nineteen nodded, forty-two nodding with him. Their coaches, to their sides, inspecting how to get their players back into the game. Shifting their heads with a lot more force than they would treat a kicker. Another kinship sparked as both players did not react much to the roughness.