Gemotions

The coach clapped him on the shoulder, a gesture that felt less supportive and more like a warning. "We need you to play linebacker, Jake. Your speed, your agility... it's a natural fit." Jake stared at the manicured grass of the practice field, the setting sun painting the sky in colors he couldn't appreciate. He’d spent years honing his skills as a running back, the thrill of the chase, the feeling of the ball in his hands, was everything. Now, he was being asked to become a brick wall.

His stomach clenched. He didn't say anything, just nodded stiffly, the words catching in his throat. Later, during the drill, he took his hits with a detached stoicism. Each tackle felt like a betrayal of the hours spent perfecting his cuts and his footwork. He moved with a leaden quality, his usual explosiveness replaced by a deliberate slowness. The other players noticed his changed attitude. "What's wrong, Jake?" one of them asked, but Jake just shrugged. He didn’t want to talk about it.