Yonus Fitzsimons
Nov. 30th, Evening
Staring at the 50” flatscreen, hunched over exhausted in my hard metal chair, clipboard in my left hand, pen in my right, I am simply amazed by the speed of these linebackers.

“Damn, that’s a quick linebacking core… might have to keep Kaeper in the pocket…that makes things more complicated,” I say out loud, more to myself than to Harry.

“We’ll figure it out…lots of time, Fitzy. Why don’t you take off and go get some sleep. You look horrible,” says the mid-sixties gentleman, and my best friend, his eyes glued to the screen as well.

“Yeah, well at least I’m not bald, Old Man,” I laugh, sitting up with a slight chuckle and stretching my back against the back of the chair.

“You’ll get there…sooner rather than later if you keep this up,” says Harry, “at least eat something.”

“You think Kelly is sleeping right now…or eating? He’s watching us at least as closely as we’re watching them…a month isn’t that long when you’re prepping for a game this size, you know that. Last year we knew the Trojan’s whole defense by now.”

“Like I said, we’ll get there…last year we knew the Trojans from the year before…this year we’ve got the Ducks, so we’re starting out further behind,” Harry says calmly, patting me on the shoulder in understanding. “I’m going to bed. Maybe my wife misses me. See you tomorrow.”

“I might still be here,” I laugh again, not that it’s not a very real possibility, “I gotta figure out a way around those linebackers,” and I turn back to the screen, hunching back over and hitting play on the remote.

I get a few more hours of film-study in, and decide to give my brain a break for a bit. I head into my office, attached to the film-room (like it would be anywhere else) to fetch my current crossword book. Sitting behind my desk, pen poised to strike…I couldn’t have made it three words in before my head hit the desk.


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