Coach Bob’s explosive “compete for your jobs” declaration sent shockwaves through the first-team practice area.
Offensive coach Payne’s face instantly darkened. He opened his mouth, but ultimately swallowed the words on the tip of his tongue.
He knew very well that before this head coach—the hero who had just delivered a state championship—he possessed no voice whatsoever.
The other first-team players, meanwhile, directed their gloating gazes at Spencer one after another.
Previously, Spencer had constantly flexed in the locker room, relying on his uncle being a former NFL player. Many teammates with no intention of continuing professionally had long been sick of him.
Now, seeing him publicly “executed” by the head coach, every face carried a trace of smug, malicious delight.
Feeling those undisguised gazes around him, Spencer’s brain buzzed, as if a string were about to snap.
All the blood rushed to his head. The helmet he gripped tightly was nearly slammed into the ground in his loss of control.
However, he ultimately restrained himself.
After being repeatedly pounded by his uncle Hank these past few days, his spoiled brain had finally opened up a little.
Spencer knew perfectly well that those so-called verbal offers in his hands were nothing more than D2 college walk-on opportunities—non-scholarship tryouts.
These verbal commitments were inherently fragile. All it took was a rumor from the team about his poor practice attitude, or even a bad reputation for talking back to coaches, and those offers would be immediately revoked.
Football players could have fiery tempers, but they absolutely could not openly defy the head coach’s authority.
If he dared clash with Bob here today,
then his football career would end completely at this very moment.
Thinking this, Spencer’s jawline, taut with anger, slowly relaxed.
He took a deep breath, raised his head, looked straight at Coach Bob, and said word for word, “I’ll prove with my ability that I’m your best wide receiver.”
Right at that moment, Kevin, who had just entered the practice field, heard this and couldn’t help bursting into exaggerated laughter.
Spencer whipped his head around and glared at him with a murderous look.
Kevin merely stood nearby with arms crossed, looking indifferent, the mocking smile at the corner of his mouth growing more pronounced.
Just as the gunpowder between the two was about to ignite, Coach Bob’s voice cracked over like a whip.
He didn’t even look at Spencer, instead directing all his fire at Kevin.
“What are you doing here?” Bob’s tone was full of impatience. “Did you pass your makeup exam?”
“Huh? No.” Kevin replied lazily.
“Then why aren’t you going to get tutored? Didn’t I arrange a tutor for you?”
Kevin pulled out his phone from his pocket and shook the screen.
“Mark texted me, told me to come teach Lin how to run routes.”
Coach Bob’s face instantly stiffened. He turned to look at Mark not far away.
His captain didn’t avoid his gaze; instead, he openly met it, his eyes firm.
Bob instantly understood.
This kid was using his own method to truly integrate Lin Wansheng into the first team’s offensive unit.
Kevin was the best wide receiver. Having him personally instruct Lin was far more effective than any arrangement by the coaches.
It would also make Lin Wansheng feel the acceptance from the core team even more.
The displeasure in Bob’s heart at having his plans disrupted vanished instantly, replaced by a trace of gratification.
A good captain needed more than just on-field ability.
He took a deep breath, and ultimately just nodded.
It was a tacit approval of his captain’s arrangement.
“Fine,” he said, pointing at Lin Wansheng and Kevin. “Lin, you practice with him for an hour first.”
He paused, then suddenly raised his voice and roared at everyone:
“Hurry up with warm-ups and individual training. In one hour, everyone get over here for team drills!”
In the final twenty minutes of practice, the starting players of the offense and defense were already exhausted, sprawled on the sidelines gasping for breath.
Meanwhile, in the center of the field, the special teams players had just begun their leisurely punt practice.
The punt was a rather special offensive choice in football.
It generally occurred when the offense failed to advance ten yards in three downs, arriving at the fateful fourth down.
If at this time they were too far from the opponent’s end zone to kick a field goal, and didn’t dare risk a strong attack for fear of losing possession,
then the best option was for the punter to kick the ball in a high, sweeping arc deep into the opponent’s territory, forcing them to begin their next drive from an extremely unfavorable position.
Lin Wansheng watched those special teams players, their faces showing no tension whatsoever, even joking with one another.
He couldn’t help thinking that in the NFL, the special teams kickers might have the sweetest gig.
They earned millions in salary yet barely participated in any intense physical contact. They were the group with the lowest injury risk and the longest careers on the team.
Moreover, because of minimal bodily wear, kickers often had the longest careers on the team.
Kicking until age forty could even still be considered their prime.
High pay, low intensity, low risk—that was them.
What a pity.
He shook his head. Back then, he hadn’t thought things through, charging into the offense with the highest injury rate based purely on hot-blooded impulse.
Coach Bob’s gaze moved away from the leisurely special teams, turning toward the sidelines.
Offense and defense were all sprawled haphazardly across the grass, their chests heaving violently, gasping for breath.
The corner of Bob’s mouth hooked into a smile.
“Get the f*ck up!” he roared.
“Conditioning! Now!”
Coach Payne immediately blew his whistle, the sound piercing enough to tear the air.
“On the line! Let’s go, let’s go!”
Waves of pained groans rose. The players struggled, using their arms to prop up their nearly broken bodies.
Bob watched all this with only one thought in his mind.
He wouldn’t stop until he had completely emptied these kids’ tanks.
By the time Spencer finally dragged his lead-filled legs through the hellish first day of training, the sky was completely dark.
He ignored everyone, walking alone toward the parking lot.
The extreme physical exhaustion instead made the sense of humiliation in his heart even clearer.
Coach Bob’s words “go win your starting positions” stabbed at his heart repeatedly like a needle.
He yanked open the car door and threw himself into the driver’s seat.
Amid the roar of the engine, he stomped the accelerator to the floor.
The tires let out a piercing scream against the ground. The car shot out, burst from the parking lot, and sped toward Long Island.
Outside the window, city lights were stretched into blurred bands of light by the speed.
His mind replayed those gloating gazes from the practice field, and Lin Wansheng’s infuriatingly calm face.
After who knew how long, he stopped the car before a brightly lit mansion.
He killed the engine, yanked open the door, and strode furiously toward the front yard.
He didn’t ring the doorbell; instead, he smashed his fist against the heavy wooden door.
“Bang!”
“Bang!”
“Bang!”