The late-afternoon sun hit Nick's white practice jersey.
He rolled his neck once and started across the turf.
The shoulder pads felt uncomfortable but traveling across the Red Desert was probably worse.
The coach was leaning against the water station with arms folded as he chewed on a whistle. The second he spotted Nick, the man's scarred face split into a grin that looked almost proud.
Hardman gave a low, rumbling chuckle.
"Well I'll be damned… that's my boy."
He snatched a ball off the cart and fired it spiral-perfect without even looking.
The football knifed through the air and smacked into Nick's chest with a meaty THWAP.
Nick caught it one-handed.
"Thanks, coach."
He tucked it against his ribs and kept walking like this would be a piece of cake.
A senior linebacker timed it perfectly.
He drifted left, then threw a vicious shoulder right into Nick's ribs as he passed.
"Move, freak."
The guy muttered under his breath, just loud enough for the huddle to hear.
