I arrived at the first day of practice bright and early, clad in my uniform. I was the first one there, it seemed.
“You’re Connor British-stuff,” Coach said to me. Normally, I would have found it condescending, but my last name was long and barely fit on the jersey at it was. “Start by running laps and set a good example for your teammates.”
“Yes, Coach!” I put my running background to good use, and by the end of warm-ups, I had ran more laps than the star freshman player Deere recruited. The rest of practice was tough, but I loved it. The locker room situation was a lot different, though. A bunch of guys paraded around stark naked and talked about women they were banging or the faggots watching from under the bleacher. I joined in when I could, but I had little to add, for now.