It is ten thirty at night and the kitchen is full of smoke. I have the backdoor open and the extractor fan running but these provide little help. The quick-cook pasta is not quick enough for my liking, it is still firm after ten minutes. I put it into the lunch box which already contains some salad and chicken. It will have to do. I leave the container open on the side so it can cool down, later on I will put it in the fridge.
I arrive at the ground just after ten o'clock. We are meant to arrive at half-past and I am early. There are four other people there, we bring some equipment out of the lock-up. I carry two boxes that contain the old uniforms, as the travelling team we will wear our second kit. People show up with increasing regularity as we get closer to eleven o'clock. I head back to my car because I cannot recall if I had locked it. It is better to check rather than have it play on my mind for the rest of the day. The coach turns up and it is not as sophisticated as the one we used last week, although it is a shorter journey so it balances out.
The journey is uneventful, we hit a small bit of traffic and someone on the back-row notices a teammate following us, he is promptly mooned. We arrive at the ground and there seems to be a motorbike meeting occurring at the same venue. An old man in a 1980's BMW, with a single-axled trailer attached, wears a tshirt bearing the slogan "British bikers against child abuse". The coach pulls up, we disembark, grab our belongings from the hold and head to the changing-room. Mercifully, no Journey songs are played this week.
I am the fourth member of the team on our sideline, the balls have not yet arrived. I tape the index and middle fingers of both hand. They are still not healed from being jammed a while back, they probably won't until the season is over. We get into a large circle and three balls start being tossed around, if you drop a pass or if you throw a bad pass, you run around the perimeter. Once the circle becomes too large, we divide into two smaller circles and continue. After a while we are told to get into two lines and then the warm-up proper begins with a jog around our half of the pitch. Stretches follow and then some sprints and shuttles from the back to the front of the end zone.
We then split up into units and begin our separate drills. A new receiver is unsure of the passing tree and we try and help him. The photographer is taking pictures of us and the quarterback directs him as to where he should point the camera. I drop a fair few of my passes, the ones I do catch he doesn't get pictures of. The drill is wrapped up and we head to the sideline. Nearly all of my running for the day is done.
The sun is shining and I am sweating alot although I am not really moving around, I finish my own supply of water and then have to rely upon the team's water bottles. Atlas has attended to the drinks today, so the water is going to be as fresh as it ever will be. I am told that I can alternate on the punt team with another receiver. We at to receive the kickoff, I don't know if we won or lost the coin toss. On the first or the second play of the game, the right-hand side receiver takes advantage of a blown coverage and runs about fifty yards for a touchdown. The defense gets a three-and-out. The offense scores again. I am happy because at this rate it looks like a rout and I will get some game time.
A defensive-back comes to me and asks if I want his place on the kick-off team. I say yes and wander out onto the field, I am left-three. I think this means I have the second lane from the field edge. I run downfield and avoid a man from the second line, the ball sails out the back of the endzone. The defensive coordinator says I did well, I ask him to tell me what I could do better and he says it doesn't matter, he has taken me off the kickoff team. It is the same coach who pulled me off the punt team last week and replaced me with a defensive player, I am sure it is not personal. I don't notice who my replacement on kick-off is.
After the great start to the game things trail off. The offense gets too far into the opponents territory to punt but too deep to try a field-goal and fail to convert some fourth downs. The defense allow several long drives but prevent any points being scored. The opposing quarterback is keen on scrambling and takes multiple big hits, he keeps getting up though and doing it again. Our first punt occurs, the next one will be mine. We will only punt again in the fourth-quarter and the other receiver is already on the field, I miss out on that one. The receiver one up from me in the depth-chart is summoned to play in the slot. He runs a rail route and makes a good catch in the end zone for a touchdown, only there is a holding flag on the play. I feel bad for him.
At the start of the second-half, the opposing team rallies a little and brings the game to within one score. My hopes of seeing some playing time at receiver diminish. We open up the lead and end up winning by ten points. I get to go onto the field as we kneel to kill the clock. I am a tailback ten yards behind the quarterback. I am told if there was a fumble, it would have been my responsibility to deal with it. I don't know what to think of that. we line up at the fifty yard-line and shake hands with the other team.
I get changed on the sideline, no-one is watching and it is less cramped than the changing rooms. I put my main bag on the coach and head to the bar. I get a can of cider and sit on a step outside, in the sunshine, drinking. I eat the pasta and chicken I prepared the night before. We hear there is food on offer inside, I put the lid on my container and join the queue. We are told by the lady serving the chips and sausage that we require a token. When asked where the tokens can be found, she tells us that they were given to one of the coaches. After some asking around it is found the tokens were given to the offensive-line coach. I get two tokens, one for me and another for a hefty linebacker. Whilst in the queue a defensive-lineman comes over and asks if anyone wants a drink, he only has his card and there is a minimum purchase of five pounds. I request another cider and he obliges. I get my chips and two sausages and sit with some rookies.
When I am finished I move back outside and resume consuming my pasta-based lunch. I talk to a rookie receiver who has yet to step on the field, I tell him that is what it was like for me in the first year. His will come when we have a blowout win or loss, the same time mine will. We talk about maybe changing position but then we would move to the bottom of a different depth-chart and would be in the same problem. Disillusioned and alienated in a game we pay to participate in. With the sun still beaming down, we are told to board the coach again.
The journey back is uneventful apart from the production of a second round of donuts. My binge eating continues. We get back to the ground and volunteers are needed to carry the equipment back to the lock-up. I grab some water bottles and depart. I pilot my car home listening to the classic rock radio station that sponsors us, it is playing a song from the latest Greenday album. I am not a fan. I stop off at the twenty-four hour supermarket and purchase two large bottles of beer. It is a bank-holiday weekend. I get home and realise my arms and a triangle upon my face, extending from both eyes down to the tip of nose, are an alarming shade of red. They will be sore tomorrow.
