My Heart's in Alabama

8 - Matt

I crawl towards the shady tree with my water bottle in hand at the end of practice. My dad gathers us all together to give some sort of pep talk. I pour my ice-filled water into my mouth and let it drizzle down my face and chest. It doesn't matter if I get myself wet, I'm already soaked with sweat. Today's practice was even worse than yesterday's. Last night we mixed conditioning with some plays and stuff, but when my dad saw how horribly out of shape everyone was, he decided to forget about fundamentals and just focused on whipping everyone into shape.

So, my dad talks/yells at us for not being where we're supposed to be. He asks us how we think we're supposed to be better than anyone if we can barely run a mile without wheezing. It's all the normal stuff you generally hear at pre-season. At least around here. Our school has a real motivation problem and our football program has suffered because of it. But we make do. I mean, we definitely aren't as good as when my dad and my uncle Nate played, but we managed to win a few games here and there.

"Tomorrow it's going to be the same thing. And the next night and the next night if you can't get yourselves in shape. All right?"

"All right," we all repeat like zombies. Dad dismisses us, but no one really moves for a few minutes. We can't. Too tired. Too sore.

"Hey," my dad says and stands over me.

"Hey."

"You need ice or something?" He asks.

I shake my head and make myself get up.

"You sure?"

"I'm good," I say and we make our way to my dad's truck. I climb into the passenger seat and slam the door shut. We drive home and I go upstairs, take a quick shower, and then crash in my bed like I did the night before. I face towards my window, but see that Kiersten isn't in her room. I don't think much about it. She's probably watching T.V. downstairs or maybe at her girl friends, Whitney and Bridgette's, house.

My phone rings and I pick it up. It's Sal. He asks me to come over. Even though I'm beyond sore, I haven't hung out at Sal's place in a while so I agree. I ask him if it's okay if I bring Drew. Maybe if I get as many kids out of the house as I can my dad will relax a bit and ease up at practice.

I tuck my phone in my back pocket and head downstairs to Drew and Carrie's room. Drew's sitting on his bed looking through a book of constellations my mom got him for his fourth birthday. Drew's a real smart kid. Smarter than me, that's for sure. I know Kiersten always jokes that I'm a know-it-all, but I'm really just stubborn. But Drew, he's a real Brainiac. I bet he's going to be valedictorian someday.

"Hey, you want to go over to the Chelsea's?"

Drew carefully closes his book and places it gently on his nightstand.

"That would be delightful," he says as he gets up and smoothes out his shirt.

I shake my head and laugh. Drew may be smart, but he can be a real oddball sometimes.

"All right let's go."

We walk out of the room together and tell my dad what we're doing.

"Have fun," he says on our way out.

"What kind of activities are we going to do at the Chelsea household?"

"I dunno."

"Sounds like fun."

I crack a smile and push Drew slightly. He gets out of step and then jogs to catch up with me.

"Ya little wise-guy," I simply state.

He giggles and I nudge him again.

"Stop pushing me. Does your girlfriend know you have abusive tendencies?" Drew says.