Coaching the Nerd (Nerds Vs Jocks #2) - Eli Easton Page 0,1

large fist. It would have sent me sideways if I hadn’t seen it coming and braced for it. “So funny!”

“Uh… thanks?”

“Which team are you on?”

I looked at him blankly. “That would be another point that should have been made clear to me before the game started. I have no idea which players are on which team. But I think—”

Bubba held up his hands in a wait gesture. “Oh, I get it. Sorry. See, normally, the teams have different color flags.”

I planted my hands on my hips. “Well that would be helpful, yes.”

“But DeWan only grabbed the blue, and all these guys know each other, so it’s no biggie.”

I frowned at him. “In case it’s not obvious, there’s a problem with this scenario.” I pointed at my chest. “New guy.”

He chuckled. “You’re so funny. Okay, look, you’ll be on my team.”

“Is Tray on your team? Because he told me—”

“Just forget who else is where. You’re on my team, got it? And that’s our goal.” He pointed down the field to the north end, which was the opposite of where everyone else was currently clustered. “If you get the ball, you head that way with it. If someone else has the ball and is running toward the opposite end, you try to stop them. You do that by grabbing the guy’s flag. And that’s all there is to it.”

“Yes, but how do I know if the person who has the ball is on my team?” I repeated, feeling like I was missing something obvious.

He furrowed his brow. “Dude. If they’re running that way with the ball”—he pointed again to the enemy end zone—“they’re not gonna be on your team.”

“Ah, yes, I see! That’s completely understandable.”

I felt like someone had just explained the theory of relativity to me for the first time. It made sense that the only people running toward the enemy goal line with the ball would be on the enemy team.

Unless, of course, that person was confused. But it was likely they were all experienced. Surely I was the only confused player on the field. Therefore, as Bubba said, I should have been able to safely assume that people heading toward the south goal line were on the opposing team.

But what if they were standing still? If they weren’t going one way or the other, I couldn’t tell which team they were on.

Never mind. There was a workaround for that. I resolved to ignore such a person and only take the flag from a player when I could clearly tell the direction of their motion. That was sound logic.

Wait.

“So let’s—” Bubba began.

“Hang on. One last question,” I interrupted. “What if a player is heading toward the opposing goal line, but it’s just a feint? That happens, right? Perhaps they’re running that way to dodge around another player, and then they’ll run back toward our team’s goal line. Or what if they’re trying to psyche out the other team? In such a scenario, I could incorrectly assume they’re not on my team and take their flag erroneously.”

To my consternation, Bubba threw back his head and laughed again, loud and hard, like I’d just made the funniest joke. “You’re a card, Sean. Seriously, man!” Bubba hit me in the shoulder again. “So, you’ve got it, right?” He sounded like he was explaining to a five-year-old.

I frowned. “I’m not stupid,” I said, feeling exasperated.

Bubba grinned. “Well, I sure as hell hope not.” He looked me up and down. “Because if you were stupid on top of that, you sure would have been dealt a raw deal in life.”

“Hey!” I said, knowing an insult when I heard one.

He just chuckled. “Come on! Let’s get ’em!” He ran off toward the cluster of players near the south goal line.

I was a little miffed, honestly, but perhaps he was teasing me. His manner hadn’t seemed cruel. I shook it off and jogged behind him. The other players were momentarily stopped, most of them with hands on knees, waiting for something. Ah, yes, it looked like Tray was taking the ball.

Not sure what else to do, I ran toward the southern goal line. Perhaps it would be best to position myself near there and try to stop anyone who attempted to cross the line with the ball. I wasn’t the only one with this idea, however, as there were a half-dozen ALA players already in the area. I found a hole toward the left and took up a position facing the play.

After a whistle and a scramble,