Gemotions

The locker room stank of sweat and shattered dreams. Coach Miller’s words still echoed in Mark’s ears, each syllable a hammer blow to his ego. “We need players who are… a better fit.” The 'fit' was a lie. It was about playing time, about a star quarterback's daddy calling in favors. Mark gripped the chipped wooden bench, knuckles white. His gaze locked onto the quarterback, Chad, who was laughing with his cronies, oblivious. Mark had to make them feel the ache.

He'd been working on a new play. Something tricky, something designed to exploit a vulnerability Chad had. Over the next few practices, Mark would “accidentally” misinterpret signals, run the wrong routes, make the simplest throws look impossible. He’d make sure Chad knew what it felt like to lose.

The first 'mistake' involved a deep pass. Chad threw, and Mark, instead of running downfield, cut across the field, throwing off the entire timing of the play. It resulted in an interception. A ripple of discontent went through the team. Chad glared.