Coach Otsen ran the JV Titans ragged that week. They still couldn't reach that thirty-five second threshold, not all of them. Kenny and Jackson had. Lonnie and Rudy too—Lonnie thanks to his high top speed, and Rudy because he was the one least slowed down by the vests.
Freddy, Isaac, and Pete were closing in on the time from Kenny's estimations, but the Linemen, even Owen, who was the fastest of them, were all lagging behind greatly.
Kenny's frustrations grew. Running alone wouldn't earn him a varsity spot or prove he deserved a chance.
But Coach Otsen was a stubborn bastard, and even if it meant they had to run every day of the off-season to reach the goal he set, he'd make sure they ran.
So Kenny had to look for another way to vent his frustrations. That's why he and Jackson were at the park, for some extra training that wouldn't be just running.
Of course, there was still some running, as it was an essential part of the sport they both loved, but it wasn't their focus. At least not increasing their straight-line speed or stamina wasn't.
Kenny stood next to Jackson, explaining his idea as they looked out at an empty patch of grass in the park. 'Alright, so, you jog forward, then I'll call something out like, left, or right, whatever, and you cut that way, then continue in that direction until I call something else out. You get me?'
Jackson nodded. 'Yeah, I think I got it.'
'Focus on that explosion of speed.' Kenny patted him on the back, then stepped aside.
Jackson gave a thumbs up and jogged forward. He'd cut and twist and turn, digging small divots and depressions into the grass as he pushed off powerfully. It felt good putting some trust in his leg again, feeling that explosive force rush through it from his toes all the way up to his hips.
Kenny eventually directed him back to where he'd begun. Then it was Kenny's turn for the drill. He was a blur through his cuts. Jackson, watching after taking some step backs, and having some experience trying to guard Kenny, now knew why it was so hard to keep him in front of you. It wasn't so bad when they were going straight. He could catch up with straight speed, but Kenny was so quick to change direction. It was a thing of beauty watching him work.
His movements were short and sharp. He planted his feet quickly and shifted his weight even quicker. Like the snap of your fingers. Jackson had to be quicker.
He watched closely, Kenny running through the drill longer than Jackson had, though neither complained about it.
Jackson saw what he thought might be Kenny's secret to his rapid cuts; Kenny didn't plant his whole foot before he cut, just his toes. He was like a spring, one that came pre-loaded.
Eventually, Kenny jogged back. Jackson was so caught up in watching the action closely and trying to find that secret, he would've watched Kenny all day.
'Phew, alright. That's some good stuff, yeah?' Kenny asked.
Jackson nodded.
'Great. I think we need to pick up the speed though, maybe … focus on going from sixty down to zero. Stop on a dime and all that shit.' Kenny looked around. The park wasn't crowded, thankfully, and the space they'd found was more than suitably long.
'I reckon, run until I say stop, then turn back as quick as you can and run back to me. Like a curl, yeah?'
'Yeah.' Jackson nodded again and got set in his mark like he was lining up before the snap.
On Kenny's mark, Jackson took off. He sprinted ahead without hesitation, listening for Kenny's call. When it sounded, he stamped his foot down and spun around on it.
Pain twinged deep inside his shin. He winced and stumbled a bit, but completed his spin and pushed back into a sprint, running back to Kenny.
'You good?' Kenny asked.
'Yeah, fine. Not as easy without cleats.'
'Maybe we should've brought them, but I don't know if the park would like us tearing up the grass like THAT.'
Jackson looked back at the clearing. Even without cleats, it was already obvious that they'd been running on it aggressively. Dirt had been kicked up in places, some softer parts of the ground had been dug in. It would've looked like a minefield if they'd been wearing cleats.
'Ain't this kinda what we've been doing with the sprints at training?'
'Hmm… I guess, but this is more focused on that turn. We only do that once at training, then we're running for ninety-nine percent of the time.'
'I guess so.'
Jackson caught his breath and let whatever remnants of the pain melt away as Kenny went next. Jackson didn't wait as long to call for Kenny to turn back.
Kenny stamped his feet as well. This time he couldn't just kick off with his toes now that he was stopping and turning, but he was still quick.
They swapped turns, and Kenny almost made Jackson trip up again by calling for him to turn back near immediately after he started. It was a clever little reaction test and made him focus on several quick bursts of speed. Jackson liked it, and it meant he was back to watching Kenny and learning from him even faster.
After a couple of seconds, he called Kenny back, and he watched intently, eyes locked on Kenny's lower half. He noticed Kenny was already twisting to turn back even as he planted his feet to stop.
Whereas Jackson stopped, THEN turned. Kenny tried to do both at once. While it was faster, Jackson thought it was riskier, seeing it as increasing the chance of an injury with that sudden planting and jerking motion. His leg ached just thinking about it.
Nevertheless, he tried it on his next attempt, but it wasn't something he was used to, and he stumbled ahead while trying to stop before eventually turning around.
They each went through it a few more times. Jackson broke his attempts into two parts: stopping and restarting. While he wasn't concerned with connecting the two movements smoothly and quickly at first, he still did each individual part as quickly as he could.
When he heard Kenny, he'd instantly slam his foot down, already turned sideways, ready to push back off the other way. But when he was firmly planted, he'd wait a second before giving that final twist and thrust to kick back and finish his curl.
Kenny watched him curiously, but said nothing until they were ready to move on to the next idea. 'Hey, how's your leg feeling?' he asked.
'It's fine,' Jackson answered. A half lie, if that. It was fine, really. But it was beginning to ache. The pain was dull for the time being, but each exercise caused that dullness to sharpen. He could tell the focus of today's extra training would remain on legs. After all, he'd say they were the most important parts of a Receiver's body outside of his hands.
'You let me know if it's hurting too bad, we can't have you getting injured again.'
'Thanks, Kenny, I know you've got my back. I'm not gonna push myself to snapping it again, don't worry. I'll say something if it's bothering me.'
'Promise?'
'Promise.'
The two bumped fists. Kenny explained his third idea. Still focusing on explosiveness, now he wanted them to test, and compete against, each other.
They'd stand together, facing one another, then lean on each other. With their hands under the other person's armpit, they'd relax. After a countdown, they'd push against each other, only for a few seconds at most.
It'd be like some kind of sumo contest. 'But if sumo ain't explosive, what is?' Kenny laughed.
'Huh. I guess that makes sense. I'd never that about that. Hey, maybe Vincent and that could learn a thing or two from sumo.'
'They probably could. Though sumo doesn't have any rules against holding.'
'Talk about a wedgie… sheesh.' Jackson shuddered.
'Haha, c'mon, man, are we giving it a shot or nah?'
'Alright, alright.'
They positioned themselves against one another, relaxing, taking deep breaths. 'Use your legs more than your arms,' Kenny said.
'We can use our arms to beat a Press. This'd be good practice for that.'
'Oh. Yeah, you're right. Good thinking, man. Okay, use your arms too. Just push hard, only for a couple of seconds or until someone gets knocked over.'
Jackson nodded. They leaned on one another. Kenny's breath echoed in his ear as Kenny counted down from three. On "go" they both shoved into each other.
Jackson's leg strained and creaked, but he got the better of Kenny first, knocking him back a few steps. He stopped immediately after that.
Kenny brushed himself off, smiling. 'Good stuff! Just like that, how'd that feel?'
'Good! Go again?'
'Hell yeah.'
They went for another round. Jackson won again, and the next, but his leg ached. It wasn't just power pushing up from his toes, pain shot through his leg, too. Each successive time, the stab of pain got stronger, and it was on the fifth round Kenny won—the fourth being a tie.
Kenny won each contest after that until they both needed a break. Jackson wouldn't ask for a break first, he could push through it. Just no break, he told himself over and over.
As they cooled off, Kenny walked over to the tree they'd left their ball leaning against, nestled in the roots. After retrieving it, he jogged back.
'Some catching practice now. We can combine it with those first cutting drills. Just gotta catch the ball when you make your cut.'
'Got it. I'll uh, I'll throw first,' Jackson suggested.
'Oh, yeah, sure.' Kenny was happy to go first. He didn't even think Jackson might have other motives for resting longer.
Jackson kept as much pressure off his leg as he could while he threw, but, relying on arm strength alone, his passes were soft, slow lollipops, arcing higher than they needed. He even missed the first one, throwing it behind Kenny, who still reached back and caught it.
After the third lob, Kenny held onto the ball. 'Hey, I know neither of us are Quarterbacks, but you think you can get it lower and harder?'
'Ah, sorry. You're right. I'll do better. It's no good practicing with passes so sloppy you'd never see them in a real game.'
'It's all good. Just do your best.'
Jackson nodded. He couldn't let his leg hold not just himself back, but Kenny too. He stepped into his throws, still keeping light on his toes and leaning heavily on his good leg. The arc lowered, and speed increased to a respectable enough degree while keeping the pain to a minimum.
Then it was his turn to catch. He took a deep breath and steadied himself. "You've got this." He took his mark, then set off.
He cut left, springing off his toes like he'd seen Kenny do. He got almost no power from the rapid cut, stumbling again. His hands whipped up, and as he fell over, he thankfully caught the ball.
Kenny ran over. 'Shit, you good?' He helped Jackson up.
'Yeah! Yeah, I'm good… shit, uh, my leg it's just… it's playing up. Maybe I should rest it for a bit.'
'Ah, fuck. Yeah, that's a good idea, uhh, you sit down, get in the shade. I'll just, I'll just do the jump cuts and stuff. Don't worry about throwing me the ball.'
Jackson nodded. He went over to the shade where their drink bottles lay. He sat down, leaning back against the tree. His leg throbbed. Would that ache ever go away? He began his massages.
The pain didn't need to vanish entirely; he wasn't sure it ever would. It just needed to stay away long enough so he could catch up. Or at least keep up. Otherwise, Kenny would charge ahead and leave him behind.
He stared down at his leg. "Will you hold me back forever?" He contemplated if one dumb decision in his darkest moment had robbed him of his future.
"No. Not yet. I'm still here. I'm still standing. And even if one's broken, I've still got two legs. I'll still be the greatest."