Jack DeCotto sat on the bench in front of his locker. He had come early, well before the others. He wanted to spend time alone on the practice field, visualizing the plays and enjoying the solitude.
Yes, the game was played with twenty-one others on the field. He preferred to be alone. Fate, or whatever it might be called, had thrust him into the life of an orphan who had no siblings and lived with his grandparents until he was old enough to return to his parents’ home and his grandparents were too old to keep him from leaving. He had no choice but to become independent. Now that he was adjusted, he wanted to keep it up.
He pushed his toes into his holsters. He kicked his heels into place. He loosened the laces before tightening them, as he always did. Getting the fit and feel right.
As Jack gave the dangling threads one last strong tug and began to tie his usual knot, the head coach walked through the otherwise empty dressing room.
“Get it nice and tight,” Connors said. “No excuses today.”
When Jack looked up, long, thick strands of hair hung over his face. “I never made excuses.”
Connors stopped. “You were never the starter.”
Jack sat down, eyes narrowed. “Are you saying I am?”
The coach smiled. “Are you saying you didn’t know?”
“It’s just great to hear that.”
“Then you will hear what every player hears. The best play eleven.”
Jack stayed. He towered over the coach, by at least two inches. “I plan to be one of them.”
“You’ve earned your chance,” Connors said. “Now, you must win the place.”
Jack turned from his closet, reaching for his shoulder pads with his red practice jersey pulled over him. “I paid my dues.”
“For some, it’s part of winning the opportunity to win the country.”
Jack poked his head through the pillow hole. He pulled his shirt back. “I thought that was a big part of it.”
“It is. But the rule applies to all. The best eleven play.”
Connors started to walk away. “Have you met Gordon?”
Jack watched her go. “Gordon who?”
The coach addressed Jack as he walked towards his office. “Lonnie Gordon.”
“I read something about it,” said Jack. “He should start paying his dues today.”
Connors stopped to open his door. He winked at Jack. “Best Eleven Game.”
