Landon was nearly dizzy from the mixture of pride and worry as he tramped along behind Jonathan Wagner. The big NFL lineman swung his hips as he walked atop great bowed legs. His hands hung low like tremendous meat hooks from their long arms. When they got to the blocking sled, Jonathan removed his sunglasses, slapped the top of the dummy on the end, and turned to face Landon with a big smile. “Okay, let me see what you got.”
Landon shook his head. “I got nothing.”
“Well, you’ve seen the other guys, right?”
Landon nodded. “And about a million YouTube videos.”
“Well, just give me the best stance you can and fire out on my count and block this bad boy, and I’ll see where you’re at and we can go from there.” The NFL player studied Landon’s face. “If you could do it perfect already, you wouldn’t need me.”
“Did you help Brett get so good?” Landon asked.
“Me and his dad.” Jonathan nodded. “Brett’s a natural. Maybe you are too. Let me see.”
“I’m not a natural.” Landon got down in his frog-like stance, looking up at Jonathan. “Okay, ready.”
“Whoa. No. Not ready.” Jonathan grabbed Landon’s shoulder pads and raised him up like a sack of beans, and then he pushed him back a bit so they stood facing each other. “Okay, get your feet shoulder-width apart, like this. Keep your feet straight, like you’re on skis.”
Landon did as he was told.
“Good. Now bend your knees just a bit and slide your right foot back so it’s even with the heel of your left foot so you’re staggered, like this.”
Landon watched Jonathan slide his foot straight back and did the same.
“Not that far,” Jonathan said. “That’s it, so your toe is even with the heel of your other foot. Good. Now, rest your forearms on your thighs like this. This is your preset stance, and you have to have a good preset stance to have a good stance because we’re gonna drop right down into our stance.”
Landon watched the enormous player drop down into a three-point stance. A thrill shot through him. Jonathan was the real deal. An NFL player was right in front of him, showing him how it was done. Landon dropped his hand down and got into the stance, proudly remembering to use his fingers as a bridge the way Brett had showed him.
Jonathan stood up and assessed him. “Hmm. Better, but get that hump out of your back. Look, watch me. See how my back is flat. You should be able to have a picnic on the back of a good lineman in his stance.”
Landon tried, but it was hard.
“Move your hand out a little. You don’t want to be too far forward, but get a little bit longer. That’ll help with your back.” Jonathan moved Landon’s hand and ran a finger down his spine. “That’s much better. See? Everything starts with the stance, Landon. You keep flat and you turn that big body into a battering ram that can destroy people. Now you’re ready to fire out and hit that dummy.”
Landon fired out and struck the dummy.
“Hey, good work with your hands, thumbs up and everything. I like that placement. See? You got this, Landon,” Jonathan’s voice rumbled. “Okay, again.”
On and on it went. For half an hour Jonathan Wagner tutored Landon on blocking before he stood tall and said, “Okay, you’re ready.”
“I’m ready?” Landon blinked at him.
Jonathan laughed. “Oh, yeah. You come out of that stance like I have you doing? Keep your head tilted up but low? Deliver a blow with your hands and chop your feet the way you’ve been doing on this dummy? You’ll be a beast. You gotta do it with heart, though. Get a little mad about it. Punish people.”
Landon thought. “Brett always seems like he’s mad when he’s blocking. He knocked me over and was like . . . snarling.”
“Brett is mad when he’s blocking. That’s a good thing if you’ve got it.”
“I don’t think I have it like him,” Landon said.
“But you really don’t know, do you?” Jonathan said. “You can’t know until you’ve got the right technique. You’ve been flopping around like a fish in the bottom of a boat. Now you’re gonna swim, and we’ll see what happens. I know one thing. . . .”
“What?” Landon asked.
“You’re determined.”
“I am?” Landon thought about all those YouTube videos he studied. Maybe that counted?
“I watched you in that cannonball contest. You held your form even when you tilted too far and smacked your bare back on the water. That had to hurt, but you held it anyway. Because why?” Jonathan looked at Landon, waiting for the answer.
“Because I wanted to win?” Landon wasn’t sure it was the right answer, but it was the truth.
“Yup. That’s determination. Bring it to your game on the line. With your size, it’ll be enough to dominate these guys. Well, everyone but my nephew.” Jonathan put his big hands on his hips. “And if you’ve got any nasty in you at all, you’ll be in the starting lineup.”
“Nasty?” Confusion washed over Landon.
“There’s this part of you where, like, you see red or you hear the whoosh of a train in your brain and you just lose it.” Jonathan twirled his finger beside his head. “You go batty and . . . people better watch out.”
Landon snorted at the joke.
“I’m serious, Landon,” the NFL player said. “Not a lot of people walking around as big as you who can tuck and hold a cannonball. You learn how to use what you got? You bring a little nasty to the dance?” Jonathan shook his head and broke into a small smile. “My man, I’ll be your agent.”
The big lineman turned and marched toward the rest of the team and Landon followed. When they reached Coach Furster, he signaled a play to Skip and then turned to face the Giants player.
“Well, Coach,” Jonathan said, putting a hand on Landon’s shoulder pad, “he’s ready.”
Coach Furster laughed, but his grin faded when he saw that Jonathan meant it. “You want me to put him in there?”
“Why not?” Jonathan shrugged and looked at Brett’s dad, who also shrugged.
“Uh, well. He has no idea what the plays are,” Coach Furster said. “He really won’t know what to do.”
“What’s the next play on your script?” Jonathan pointed to Coach Furster’s clipboard.
Coach Furster glanced down. “Uh, pro right forty-four veer.”
“Great!” Jonathan clapped his hands once. “A run play. Landon, you know what to do on the forty-four veer, or do you need me to tell you?”
“I know.” Landon nodded his head. He’d seen that play so many times he could run it in his sleep. He knew the blocking assignments. He knew what the running backs did, and the quarterback too. It was no big deal to Landon, but judging by the look on the coaches’ faces, it was a surprise that he had any idea at all what was going on.
“Yeah,” Jonathan said. “No more left out. Get him in there at right tackle and let’s see how good of a job I did.”
“Well, we’re running the first team right now.” Coach Furster looked like someone had told him the stock market crashed.
“Yeah, that’s okay. He can do it.” Jonathan Wagner gave Coach Furster a stone-cold stare he probably saved for the Philadelphia Eagles.
Coach Furster bit into his lower lip, but then he wagged his head and shouted, “Miller, go to left end on defense!”
“Coach?” Gunner Miller gave Coach Furster a puzzled look.
“Just do what I say!” Coach Furster barked at the dejected-looking player before he turned to Landon and forced a smile.
“Go ahead, Landon. Get in there.”