The Redshirt

living up to the hype. Of its fifteen members, thirteen had won either the starting or the backup spot at their respective positions, one had had his season ended with a torn Achilles tendon, and one had been knocked down to the bottom feeders. You guessed it—the disappointment was Barron, who’d struggled mightily to learn the offensive packages and was embarrassed badly in his freshman Oklahoma drill. To be the only freshman who wouldn’t be traveling to Notre Dame was a humiliation Barron wasn’t bearing well at all, and ever since his red practice jersey appeared in his cubby, he’d been picking fights in practice and the locker room, spouting conspiracy theories about how his black position coach had a vendetta against his white self, flailing desperately for some way, any way, to distinguish himself, change the coaches’ minds, earn a seat on the plane to South Bend.

But as a bottom feeder he had no real avenue for doing so; the only thing he could do was run full-speed when he was under explicit instructions not to and perpetrate dirty hits on starters like me. Barron always ended up getting scolded for his stunts, as he was now:

—Don’t be a fucking hero! Coach Hightower screamed. I see you pull that shit with one of my guys again and I’ll shove my cock down your throat!

—Yeah, sure.

Hightower tilted his head.

—Say again, Filmore?!

—I said, yes sir!

The other kickoff starters were as angry as Coach Hightower, knowing they were just as susceptible to getting hit by Barron. So on the next kickoff rep, several of the starters diverged from their assignments to converge on Barron, crunching him between their bodies and leaving him to rise, wobbly, from the grass, blood dribbling down his chin.

One of my guys, I kept thinking.

CG: Welcome welcome welcome to this week’s edition of “Talk to the Throne”! I’m your host, Carvell Gleason, and with me as always is the man himself, Head Coach George Zeller.

GZ: Hey there, Carvell.

CG: Hey, Coach! I think everyone’ll agree every week is a special one on “Talk to the Throne” but, folks, this might be the specialest. In the studio tonight we got starting quarterback Errol Machen and the one, the only, Mr. Reshawn McCoy. First time we’ve had the triumpherate of King Football on the show. Reshawn, am I saying that right?

RM: Triumvirate. With a v.

CG: Ha! Boy spells, runs, leaps buildings in a single bound. Can probably fix your carburetor, too.

GZ: Well, hold on now, Carvell—come Saturday night, we’re gonna be able to spell that word both ways, ain’t we?

EM: Yeah, Coach. That’s for sure.

CG: Fair e-nough! Now, before we get to some of our callers, I wanna take advantage of the unique perspective here tonight. Coach is on the show every week giving us that 30,000-foot angle, but I wanna ask Errol and Reshawn about life in the trenches. What’s the feeling of the team these days, fellas? First time King’s played Notre Dame. Gotta be some butterflies there.

EM: Well yeah, there are, Carvell. But, like, you’ve got the good kind of butterflies and the bad kind. We only got the good. I wish we were in South Bend already.

CG: Reshawn, how about you? Gettin’ nervous?

RM: About what.

CG: About what! Wish our listeners could see his face right now—Notre Dame players might take one look at him and just give up! All right, Randall from Greenville. You think you’d have the cojones to swap stares with Reshawn McCoy?

CALLER: Well, I don’t know about that, Carvell. Twenty years ago, maybe.

CG: Smart answer there, Randall. What’s the question?

CALLER: Customer at my garage had him one of those little fisty leprechauns on the back of his 4-Runner. I told him I’m a King man, through and through, and we got to talking about the game. I told him, Reshawn and Errol? We’re gonna be tough to beat next Saturday. But this guy holds talent is only one aspect, and we just don’t have the big-game experience. Like I said, I’m a King man, Carvell, been to every home game the last twenty-one years—

GZ: And we sure do appreciate that, Randall.

CALLER: Yes sir, Coach. But the man’s point has been getting me a little worried. How we preparing for that kind of environment?

CG: Great question. Errol?

EM: Football is football. Coach Zeller keeps telling us we’re gonna be playing the same game we always do. Hundred-yard field. Two goalposts, six points a touchdown, three for a field goal. It’s all about this concept I’ve learned about in my classes, “interiority”—

CG: Reshawn? You gonna add something? RM: No. Sorry.

EM: [inaudible]. We’ll be ready.

CG: Well—all right! Hey there, Graham from Morganton.

CALLER: Hey there, Carvell. More a comment, really. I am just fed up with this softness I’m seeing from a game that’s supposed to be played by gladiators. I’m just putting it forward that we got a chance, a real opportunity, to show the country that men still can take the field. I thank you.

GZ: Love it, Graham! Gonna let you know the next time we got an openin’ on staff.

CG: That strike a chord with you, Coach? Toughness?

GZ: You know it does. I tell my men every day—kill the softness, carve off the fat and feed it to the damn dogs. In Oklahoma drills we make the punters line up and tackle. I tell you, that disgust in Graham’s voice? I know where that’s comin’ from. I feel that every day I go to the supermarket. The bank. The damn barber shop. Only place I don’t feel it is with my men on the field.

CG: Reshawn, I think that’s what makes you so blamed special. You’re not afraid of confrontation. Other backs’ll pussyfoot away from contact. But you got a hunger, don’t you?

RM: Sure.

GZ: Errol’s the same way. No sliding for him.

EM: Nope!

CG: Ha! Anita from Hope Mills. Always grateful for our female listeners.

CALLER: It’s two parts, if that’s all right, Carvell. A comment and a question.

CG: Yes ma’am.

CALLER: First I wanted to say I made