The Scout

  Jake lagged behind his teammates as they jogged back onto the field for the second half of the football game. Usually dogmatic about sticking to his pre-game routines, Jake had given in the night before at the badgering of his teammates and attended a party.  Good times were had, but not without consequence. He bent over, feeling queasy and weak. 

  “You good, Mullens?” 

  Shooting upright, Jake forced confidence onto his face. 

  “All good, coach.” 

  His coach smacked his shoulder pads.

  “We got them expecting run, so we’re going to the air. Lotta balls coming your way.” 

  Normally, those words would be music to Jake’s ears, but tonight they caused his stomach to somersault. He forced a smile.

  “I’ll be ready, coach.” 

  Jake took a few breaths, then jogged onto the field. Their stadium wasn’t large, but just like every Friday night, it was jam-packed. Reaching the sidelines, Jake realized his cleat was untied. He knelt, an action that caused bile to threaten to surge up his throat, and tied his shoe. As he stood, he swept his eyes across the bleachers, looking for his parents. Instead, he spotted something that chilled him to his core.

  The scout was back. 

  Seeing that a scout was in attendance to watch you play was usually a good thing. But there was nothing good about this scout. On two other occasions this season, Jake had spotted him. His clothing was unbranded, representing no college. He kept his hat pulled down low, casting his face in shadow. His teeth were all that was visible; a wicked smile that seemed too wide to be natural stayed plastered on his face at all times. He sat alone, cloaked in darkness despite the bright stadium lights. 

  Jake forced himself to look away, but still felt the scout’s eyes on him. The scout never watched anyone else. Sweat ran down his face, and Jake found himself shaking, anxiety and fear causing his already volatile stomach to seize. 

  The kickoff took place, and soon it was time for Jake to get on the field. He heard the play call, then moved to his position. As a receiver, Jake’s job was to run a route and get clear of the defenders so the quarterback could throw him the ball. Jake glanced up. The scout had a pen and notebook, ready to detail everything that Jake did. The scout demanded perfection and would accept nothing less. Jake had never failed the scout before, somehow knowing in his bones that the consequences of doing so would be dire.  

  The play began and Jake focused on running his route perfectly. He took five steps, then turned and ran across the field. The quarterback threw the ball to him. It was off target. Just like Jake, the quarterback was at last night’s party and wasn’t in top condition. Knowing that missing the ball wasn’t an option, Jake dove. His fingers closed around the ball right before it hit the ground, and he clutched it to his chest as he hit the turf. 

  The ball came his way again on the next play. Jake had to jump in the air to catch it, exposing himself to a brutal hit from one of the defenders. But he kept his grip on the ball, not even entertaining the thought of dropping it. The scout would not abide such weakness. 

  On the next play, the quarterback fumbled. Jake jogged to the sideline, thankful for the turnover. It saved him from having to impress the scout, at least for a few minutes. He felt lightheaded, so he sat on the bench. Closing his eyes, Jake was shocked when he felt hands on him. His eyes shot open.

  “Wake up, Mullens!” 

  Jake fought back the urge to vomit, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. The coach shoved him toward the field and Jake stumbled out. His team had the ball again and he took his position. Just as the play started, he felt a burning sensation in his throat and doubled over and puked. Tears spilled from his eyes as the sour vomit poured out of him. Then he heard yelling, and stood just as the quarterback threw him the ball. It struck him right in the hands, but Jake was too slow to react, and the ball bounced up into the air. Fear gripped him as he thought about what the scout would do if he dropped the pass. He positioned himself under the ball and caught it. His vision was blurry, but he turned upfield and took a few uneasy steps. He didn’t even see the opponent that dove into him, spearing him helmet-first in the stomach. 

  Jake had never been hit so hard in his life. The impact sent him off his feet. He watched with horror as the ball slipped from his hands and went flying. As soon as he hit the ground, he rolled over onto his belly, ignoring the pain and trying to see where the ball went. One of the opponents scooped it up and was running it in for a touchdown. 

  Tears started to spill from his eyes. Jake looked to the bleachers. The scout was standing, and the smile was gone from his face. 

  “No! Please, I can do better!” Jake screamed. 

  The scout started down the bleachers. Jake forced himself onto shaky feet, then stumbled to the sideline. 

  “Wait! I’ll catch a touchdown!” 

  The scout didn’t slow, reaching the ground and heading for the exit. 

  The coach and the team doctor approached him, but Jake shoved past. He climbed the fence that separated the field from the rest of the stadium. His hands slipped on the top, and Jake went headlong over it, slamming hard onto the pavement on the other side. He cried out in pain, but used the fence to pull himself back up. 

  “I can do better!” he screamed. 

  But the scout didn’t care. Jake collapsed and watched as the scout disappeared into the dark.