The Big Time

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

TROY'S MOUTH FELL OPEN in disbelief. His cheeks burned with embarrassment as he slowly marched past the center and took up his position with the other second-stringers, behind the offense.

"You don't come late and start on this team," Seth said, loud enough for the entire team to hear it. "Later on we'll see how you throw with that bad finger. For now Glenn Twitchen will start out running the offense."

Troy stared hatefully at Seth and daydreamed about telling him right then and there that he'd signed a letter of intent with the Jets- signed it -for fifteen million dollars, and that he'd never be coming back to Atlanta, or the Falcons, and that Seth's own career would be finished. That's what he dreamed of as he stood there watching Glenn Twitchen, the quarterback from Athens, play his position.

When Seth sidled up to him as the starting offense ran a series of pass plays, Troy didn't even look at him.

"Hey," Seth said under his breath, "you hang in there. I need to prove to everyone that there aren't any favorites, bring this team together."

"I couldn't care less," Troy said bitterly.

"Troy," Seth said, "this is me. Relax. You do what you normally do and you'll be the starter on Saturday. You've got to have confidence."

"They wanted me to do David Letterman tonight," Troy said. "Did you know that? If I knew you were going to pull some junk like this, I sure wouldn't have busted my tail racing back here. I wouldn't have wasted my time with all this junk."

"Hey, Troy, easy."

"Easy?" Troy said. "Is this to get me back for Sunday? The difference is that you broke down. I'm fine. My finger…"

Troy wiggled the digit in disgust. "It'll be warm after three throws."

Seth stared at him and said, "Sunday? You think I blame you? You think I'd do that?"

Troy shrugged.

"Hey," Seth said, "buddy. All this talk about the big time with your new agent and the big contract and you being the salvation of football is going to your head. You're still a kid."

Seth stalked away, letting a sharp blast fly from his whistle before he barked at the running back for bobbling a handoff. Troy unsnapped his helmet, removed it, and turned to walk away. He'd nearly reached the fifty-yard line when he heard Seth shout from across the field, screaming at the top of his lungs.

"Hey, White!" Seth shouted. "Troy! You better get back here!"

Troy froze, then heard Tate's voice piping to him like a bird. "Troy! What are you doing? We need you!"

Troy hesitated, then kept going.

"Where do you think you're going, White?" Seth screamed in his ornery coaching voice.

Troy stopped and turned back, but only for a moment, to shout, "I'm going to New York!"