Page 95 of Just for the Cameras
Honestly, it’s shocking that I’m even here. Day one of training camp? The Foghorns must be really hard up for good press. These early training days are sacred. Trust me, I know, because I scoured YouTube looking for what I could expect from today. All I saw were long, hard days of agility, films, and weights. Thankfully, I’m only here for a few hours, and then I’m off to my real job.
When we were getting our equipment, I asked Graydon how the schedule would work for him, and he said that because we’re in a “special situation,” the team is allowing him a few hours a week to be at the zoo. Lucky for everyone.
Graydon zigs through the cones in front of me while a line of giants stack up behind me, and I realize just how humiliating this is. Like…what has my life come to that I thought it would be okay to impersonate a freaking professional football player?
“Got to keep the line moving, Baker,” the guy behind me says.
“Oh, sorry.”
Hoping the coordination gods are in my corner today, I start zigzagging through the cones like Graydon, really concentrating to make sure I don’t trip, and then follow Graydon when he goes to the back of the line.
“Pick up the pace,” he grunts to me.
“Uh, still trying to remind my legs they’re attached to my brain,” I shoot back. “I can’t be all speedy like you.”
“You can try.”
“And what, fall down and fracture my wrist again?”
Before he can answer, he weaves through the cones again and sprints to another set of cones.
Jesus.
I do the same, but my sprint is more like a little corgi galloping along because I have zero athletic talent. I make walking look hard sometimes.
I jog back behind Graydon and take a breath just as we move up to the front again.
You have got to be kidding me.
If this is the pace we’re keeping, I’m going to get lapped.
Graydon steps up, does the zigzag, and then sprints to the cone, only to veer left and push at some giant pad thing.
Great.
I work my way through the cones, “sprint” to the far one, and lean my shoulder forward, pushing into the pad like him, but I’m met with a rock-hard brick wall. I go flying backward, right into a strong pair of arms before I fall flat on my ass.
“I knew that was going to happen,” Graydon says as he rights me back on my feet and then takes off toward the end of the line.
“You going to catch me if I fall?” some big, bearded man asks.
“No, but I’ll cut off your balls while you’re showering if you joke about her again, Hendrix,” Graydon snaps, causing the big dude to clamp his mouth shut. “And that goes for every single one of you fucks.”
If I didn’t dislike him so much, I might find his protectiveness sweet.
Graydon takes off, repeating the same movement, and I follow him, my breath labored as I lightly tap the giant pad this time. I know my strengths, and ramming into that thing is not one of them.
“Does it look bad?” I ask as I sit on a medical bench, looking up at Graydon, the spot above my right eye throbbing.
His lips thin, and his nostrils flare as he angrily stares down at me.
“It’s not great, Baker.” He huffs. “What the hell were you doing?”
“I don’t know. I thought I saw a frillback pigeon and was interested in categorizing it. I was putting my helmet on at the same time, and then bam, I hit my head with my helmet. You know, these things are bigger than they seem.” I squirt water in my mouth and try to smile up at him, but I know it’s no use. He’s not happy with me at the moment.
I’ve been a bumbling mess the entire practice, and I’m not really sure how intelligent it is to have a newbie out on a practice field with a bunch of children-eating barbarians.
Granted, they don’t eat children, but from their size and the weight they carry, it seems like they could.
