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Chapter 2 – A Rite of Passage
The blast of sound from the whistle was shrill and cut through the cold August air like a blade. My Receiver’s Coach,
Mike Tice, made his way over to me. He walked with a slight limp, indicating the career ending injury he had suffered that had forced his transition from playing to coaching. “Dammit, Stewart!” He growled, his words becoming the standard greeting he used for me. “I thought someone at Rutgers might’ve taught you how to run a damn route, but I guess you were too stupid to listen to ‘em!” His words goaded me, flushing my face with color. I had spent hours on the practice field working on that particular aspect of my game, and though it had improved, it was nowhere close to where it needed to be. Coach Tice made sure that every time I ran a route incorrectly, he was there to scream at me.
“Do it again!” He roared as he limped away, throwing his hands up in exasperation as he did so. This was becoming common place for practices. We would work and work from sunrise to sunset and seemingly make no progress in the coaching staff’s eyes. This, of course, was not true. I had seen this tactic before. Growing up in the south, I was accustomed to harsh treatment from my coaches. In fact, it had become something of a comfort to me to be yelled at repeatedly. My thirst to prove myself had begun at a very early age. Everything I did on the grid iron was focused towards making my name synonymous with success.
As practice drew to a close on the Friday before our second preseason game, I found myself on the receiving end of a beautifully arced pass from Darius Pryor. The two of us had been working on our timing on a play that Coach X had drawn up that week. It was designed to make the defense respect Darius as a runner, then use that respect to get me open for a deep pass. All last season, Coach X had brought Darius onto the field to run from a Pistol Formation. He had run it over and over again, allowing Darius to take the Offensive Rookie of the Year award in spite of being the third Quarterback on his roster. Coach X had never thrown the ball from that formation, though. At least not yet. That was what we were working on that day.
As my fingers closed around the ball and I trotted into the end zone, I heard sporadic approval being shouted from players who had wrapped up their practices to see us younger players get reps. It was what the veterans did, especially on the last practice before Game Day. I returned to my offensive counterparts and gave Darius an approving pat on the shoulder pad. I then noticed that everything had become quite silent and still. Everyone’s eyes were trained behind me, following the movement of some unknown object. I spun around to see what it was, and immediately understood everyone’s shock. Coach X’s wife was crossing the field to her husband. It had become a Friday ritual for her to arrive a few minutes before the end of practice. Some of the guys had said it was because of her job as a journalist for the local Boston newspaper; though, she rarely ever spoke to players that weren’t established veterans.
As soon as Coach X and his wife had disappeared into the practice facility, the cat calls began. No one could deny the fact that our leader had found quite a catch in a wife, but the fact that there were now fifty men ogling her as she disappeared only amplified the testosterone filled comments. The words stopped after a few sharp words from Nick Kaczur, who had been with the team since Coach X’s hiring, and who was one of the few team members that Mrs. X ever spoke to. After a few more words from our team captains – all defensive players, mind – we adjourned practice and made our way towards the locker room.
As I placed my practice pads into my designated locker, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around to see Tom Brady, his usual grin in place. “Go out there on Sunday and just do what you did last week. If you play like we’ve all seen you play before, you’ll be just fine,” He said, winking and then turning to walk away. I had been told that Tom usually gave all of the rookies inspirational speeches, but this hardly seemed to be one. I had been expecting a longwinded version of something from
Any Given Sunday or something like that. What I got felt more like something a fortune cookie could have told me.
I broke the plane of the goal line for the third time that day, and the crowd in Miami groaned. It was my second rushing touchdown of the game, and it proved to be the metaphorical “nail in the coffin” for the Dolphins. I had taken one in early in the first quarter, and scored again on a short pass in the third. This third romp had me spin off of a linebacker and bowl over a safety before spiking the ball in celebration. We were now up 70-0, and had just capped what felt like a true statement of our quickly forming chemistry as an offense.
As I made my way back to the sideline, I was congratulated by a few of the defensive players. They had gathered around me, each taking a moment to speak their thanks. Then, Dre Moore and Ty Warren each took a step to the side to make room for their undisputed captain and three-time reigning Defensive Player of the Year, Keith Rivers. Rivers had never said two words to me, and I had gotten the impression that he was very much exactly the same as Coach X in many ways. Perhaps that was how the two had managed to create such a successful team. In any case, Rivers now stood before me, his dark eyes meeting mine. They were intense and full of emotion. In fact, it was the only aspect of his face that showed much emotion at all. I got the impression that the look in his eyes is what made him a natural leader.
The defensive players silenced, and the air around the group of us seemed to stand still for a moment. Rivers held up his right hand, a stream of bright red blood trickled from a small gash across his palm. I recall the play where he
lacerated his hand. He had still sacked the Quarterback. “There is a price,” He began, his voice solid and commanding. He did not yell, nor was he angry. He was simply speaking as if every word held true significance. “A price to be paid to wear this jersey.” He pressed his bleeding hand to his chest, leaving a dark red mark hanging above the white number fifty on his chest. “Those who have worn our colors in the past, they know that being a Patriot does not come free of sacrifice. All of us know the cost of victory. It is time you learned it, too.” The inflection of his voice left me with the feeling that I was standing at a crossroad. I could not tell what would lie at the end of each path, only that I must choose now which to follow.
Rivers nodded and turned away from me, giving the other defensive players leave to disperse as well. I turned around and watched the final seconds tick off of the clock, signaling our second victory of the preseason, and the second week in a row that I had made an impact for my team. Still, Rivers’ words left me thinking. Perhaps the pride that Coach X wanted to feel from me was not about how many yards or catches or touchdowns I had at the end of the day. What else could I do, though? I played the game. I was a football player, and wasn’t that enough? There was nothing else that I would rather be doing. What more could I do?
I was, once again, changing out of my uniform and mulling over the implications of playing for this team when I was approached by another player. Drew Goldman’s voice drew my attention back to reality. “I saw you get ‘The Speech’ today. How was it?” There was an air of sarcasm in his voice. The look on my face must have let him know that I was confused because he continued by saying, “Every newbie gets ‘The Speech’ at some point in the preseason. It’s a tradition that Rivers carries on after Tedy Bruschi left. The defensive guys call it the ‘Rite of Passage’.
“It’s meant to make you consider the course of your actions. I got it in the last preseason game of last year. Keith asked me what price I was willing to pay for this team. It makes you think, doesn’t it?” I nodded my response to him, wondering what sort of price Drew had to pay. “Don’t worry about it,” He said, leaning back against my locker. “All they want is for you to understand that you don’t score touchdowns for you. You score them for us.”
Drew walked away, leaving me with even more to think about. Then another voice broke the void. It was Darius. “You were the price he had to pay, you know,” He said, sitting on the bench beside me. I looked over at him, bewildered at his statement. How in the world was I the price that Drew Goldman had to pay to be a Patriot? The man was a two time Pro Bowl Tight End. Then it struck me. I was a Tight End. Could it be that in order to be a Patriot, a guy with talent like Drew Goldman had to take a back seat to a Rookie like me? As I thought about it, it made more sense to me. Drew hadn’t scored a single touchdown in the past two games. Sure, he had made catches and gotten yards, but I had eclipsed him in the media. There was more talk about me than about him, even though he sat above me on the depth chart.
I turned around to see Drew standing at his locker, smiling away. He had every right to be angry with me for stealing his thunder. Why, then, was he content to offer advice on the Rite of Passage to me? I then understood the implications of what it meant to be a Patriot. It meant service for the greater good, no matter what the cost. When someone more talented came along, a Patriot stood aside and let them have their moment, knowing that they would do the same for the next generation of players. As I watched Drew leave the locker room, giving Tom Brady a high five on his way out, I knew that this was exactly the organization I needed to be a part of. This was a team full of men with one purpose and one goal, to win for the good of the Patriot organization.
As an aside, I know that these first few chapters are limited on game information and stats, and that is by design. Not only are the stats in preseason unimportant, it gives me time to create a background story that will shape the rest of the thread. Stick with it at least until the start of the first regular season game and we'll see how I can incorporate the information that is required for a dynasty thread while staying true to my narrative design at the same time. Thanks for reading!