Tucker had been the first one to text him this morning to wish him luck, and then added: Not that you need it.
He’d smiled. Coming from Tucker, that had been one hell of a compliment, since they mostly insulted each other. But when it came to the sports they played, they always had each other’s backs when it was game time.
Flynn had his own first game today. San Francisco was playing Detroit on the road. Flynn had texted him last night and told him he’d better win and not besmirch the family name. That had made him laugh. He’d wished Flynn luck, too, and told him they were both going to kick ass.
Grant wouldn’t play until Monday night, a home game in St. Louis. Grant had texted him this morning as well. He told him he’d be watching the game on TV and he’d better not fuck up.
He loved his brothers. Pains in the asses, all of them, but he loved them all.
His parents had called him this morning to wish him luck. His little sister, Mia, had also called, kept the call short and said she’d be watching the game from one of the sports bars in her college town in Texas.
Harmony had called him first thing this morning. She’d had a late client meeting, so they hadn’t seen each other last night, and he had to be game ready anyway. But she’d called him, wished him luck and told him she’d be rooting for him and for Drake and the entire team.
Then she’d paused, as if there was something else she wanted to say. He’d waited, but then she said good luck again and she’d see him later.
He wondered what she had on her mind, but he put it aside. Game day was the only thing he needed to have on his mind today.
He was pumped and ready as he waited in the tunnel.
“Man, it seems like forever since we were in uniform,” Drake said.
“Right? I hate off-season. I’m ready for this shit to get real.”
“I’m down with you, brother,” Drake said, the two of them bumping fists.
The other guys around them slapped hands with them.
Their teammates were pumped up. They were all ready to get this season started.
First home game always gave Barrett goose bumps. Crowd noise was escalating as they were announced and ran out of the tunnel to the raucous cheers from the full stadium. It fueled his momentum as he and his teammates took the field.
Now it was time to get down to business.
After the coin toss, Tampa had the ball first, which meant Barrett would have to wait to take the field.
“Man, I hate this,” Drake said. “I mean, yeah, good for Zeman and crew. Let’s put some points up. But . . . ya know?”
Barrett read and fed off Drake’s anxiety and nodded. “I know, man. I know.”
They both paced the sidelines, watching the offense get started. Zeman marched his offense down the field. Running game got off the ground and Zeman connected on several short and long passes.
Receivers looked good. Backs looked solid. Offense ended up scoring seven on a short run from the six-yard line.
Outstanding.
Now it was their turn to show their stuff.
After the kickoff, Pittsburgh had a short ten-yard return. Tampa’s defense took the field.
They assumed a run and lined up for man coverage.
It was a run. Barrett hustled in to help with the tackles, and Tampa’s linebackers made the tackle after only three yards.
In the huddle, Barrett said, “He’s going to pass. I think he’s going to throw up a long one. Drake and I will go deep.”
He told the corners to play their receivers and the linebackers they needed to push hard on their blocks.
They got into position and at the snap, Barrett did what he’d been trained to do—he read the quarterback.
Gregson—Pittsburgh’s quarterback—dropped back and looked right, then threw long.
Barrett dug in and went after the receiver and the ball, knocking it out of the receiver’s hands just before the catch.
Incomplete.
The crowd roared its approval.
Pittsburgh went three and out without a first down, so they had to punt and Tampa got the ball back.
He and Drake made their way back to the sideline. Drake bumped fists with him.
“That’s how it’s done,” Drake said.
Barrett nodded.
That had been satisfying. Now they just had to keep on doing it.
Tampa didn’t score on their offensive series. On the next defensive series, Gregson threw on first down, this time caught by their tight end for a short gain. Tampa’s cornerback was right there on the tackle.
Pittsburgh managed to march down the field and got a couple of rushing first downs, but Tampa’s defense held them. Five minutes in, Tampa was still up seven to nothing.
Defense was looking solid. They had to keep Pittsburgh out of the end zone.
Barrett was going to make sure the defense made that happen.
Harmony came down the stairs, juggling drinks and snacks while simultaneously trying to watch the game. She scooted her way past the other patrons in her row, finally taking her seat next to Mama.
“Did I miss anything?” she asked, as she handed off a soda and hot dog to her mother.