“Tyler’s world?” said White as they walked along.
Decker pointed to the football stadium, where someone had turned on the lights illuminating the field. “There.”
As they drew nearer, they could both see Tyler, clad in shorts and no shirt, running all over the field catching footballs being thrown by another young man.
They went through the gate and walked down the bleacher steps to the track that ran around the fenced-in field.
“Nice facilities,” said White. “My high school football field was pretty much just a parking lot.”
“Good wheels,” said Decker as he watched Tyler run his routes. “Nice cuts.”
“If you say so.”
“Hey, Tyler!” he called out.
Tyler looked over at them, caught one more ball, wiped the sweat off his face with a towel hanging from his waistband, motioned to his friend that they were done, and trotted over. His torso was lacquered in sweat, every defined muscle shining brightly.
“Yeah?” he said, breathing heavily. He bent down, snagged a bottle of G2 off a bench, and guzzled it.
“Your father was worried about you. He’s tried calling. You didn’t answer.”
“I left my phone in my car over there,” said Tyler, pointing to a navy blue BMW convertible parked outside the fence at the other end of the field. “And I lost track of time. What’s the big deal?”
“No big deal to me, but it was to your old man.”
Tyler finished his drink and wiped down his arms and legs.
“You run nice routes,” observed Decker.
“Yeah, I work hard on it.”
“But you cut faster to the left than you do to the right. That’s because you’re right leg dominant.”
Tyler stared at Decker, clearly interested now.
“In college, particularly the schools you’re looking at, you have to be balanced. Otherwise, the linebacker or the safety or, better yet, the corner who covers you will read that weakness within a few plays and he’ll get the jump on the ball every time you cut right. Then it’s an interception all the way. It’s just a millisecond difference, but on a timed throw to a spot certain from the QB, he’ll get there before you will.”
“A college trainer my mom hired told me the same thing. He gave me some drills to work that out.”
“Good. Keep drilling. But if you do eight reps to the left, do twelve to the right. Hack squat with your left leg a few more reps than your right to build up the muscle mass. Do balance drills with your left leg to try to reach parity with the right. Quick-twitch exercises to that side are a good idea, too, along with maxing out hip flexibility. That’ll improve your rotation and range of motion. Lots of guys have that same issue. You may never get to complete parity, but you can get close, and your QB will love you for it.”
“You know your shit.”
“It wasmylife for a long time.” Decker leaned on the fence. “How’s your dad? Still drinking hard?”
“Drinking and maybe doping, too.” Tyler suddenly looked afraid. “Hey, I didn’t mean that. I don’t want my dad—”
Decker waved this off. “We’re not DEA. We’re FBI. But your dad shouldn’t do drugs because you pop a pill thinking it’s Oxy and it’s actually fentanyl and your next place of residence is a coffin.”
“Yeah, I guess so. I’ll make sure he’s not doing any of that.”
“You care about your dad, don’t you? Despite being pissed at him.”
“He and my mom were all I had. Now I just have him. So I want him to get his head on right and get through this.”
Decker glanced at the BMW. “Nice ride. Mom or Dad get that for you?”
“Dad. Mom didn’t like the idea. But I’m responsible. I don’t drink. I don’t do drugs. I go to school, play football, watch my p’s and q’s, and keep my head down.”