Monday night. An away game. It seems strange to be saying that, but it feels good at the same time.

"Hey, get used to it," Tyler says to me as we jog onto the field. The lights are bright, and it's our second night game in a row. "Starting next year, you're going to be playing a lot on Sunday and Monday, right?"

"Damn right," I answer, smacking him on the shoulder. "Let's take care of these guys first."

When our schedule was first determined, a matchup of the Western Bulldogs versus the Carolina Swamp Foxes sounded like a hell of a fight. West Coast against East Coast, Western Conference against the South Atlantic Conference. There was even star power, as Carolina was bringing back not only a star quarterback, but two All-American defensive players.

Unfortunately for them, but great for us, one of the Carolina All-Americans, outside linebacker, Marcus Winston, tore up his shoulder in the second game of the season, and with him out of action, their other All-American on defense, tackle Jerome Lattimore, was more easily contained. Tyler is still going to have his hands full, but we've got the advantage.

"Man, I'm just glad you're not doing suicide squad again this week," Tyler says as we wait for the kickoff. "You were sucking wind at the end of last game."

"Don't sweat it. I've got inspiration tonight."

Tyler nods, then leans in. "Hey . . . just to let you know, a lot of the guys aren't happy about the way the Honor Board is treating your girl. You notice that Chelsea ain't around."

"I noticed," I say, looking at the staff that came with us. Since this is a televised game, the network popped for the extra three tickets, and some of the training interns came along this time. Still, none of them were Carrie, and I flexed my elbow in response. "It'll work itself out. I’m making it my mission to make sure things are set right.”

"Well, let's roll. Our ball!"

Tyler and I run out to the huddle with the rest of the starting offense, feeling it. The Carolina crowd isn't friendly, booing us loudly, but we expect that. "Time to be the bad guy," I yell as we huddle up. "Let's go ruin someone's night."

I line up, and Tyler sends me in motion, and I 'wiggle' across, cutting upfield as soon as the ball snaps into a ten-yard out pattern, catching the ball off a perfect lead by Tyler. I turn up field and gain another seven yards before getting tackled, and it's on.

We line up again, and I grin at the Carolina player on the other side, who's dressed in his black and light blue and still feeling like there's a chance. "What, no shit talk?" he asks as we get set. "Thought you were famous for it. I was looking forward to shutting you up.”

"Don't need it anymore," I reply, and when the ball snaps, I blast him with a double-punch to the shoulder pads before cutting across the middle. I'm actually the second option on the play, but when I turn my head back, I see Tyler already releasing the ball in my direction. It's a little high, but not too bad, and I can take it in with a running jump, landing and cutting up the field with a step on my defender. Forty-seven yards later, and Western is up by a touchdown, and the noisy Carolina crowd goes, at least temporarily, quiet.

Unfortunately, the Carolina offense fires back quickly, and we find ourselves in a Monday night shootout. Great for the stat monkeys, that's for damn sure, because by halftime, we've combined for sixty-six points of scoring between us, and we're up thirty-five to thirty-one.

"Fuck, it's a goddamn Madden game out there!" Tyler gasps as we sit in the locker room. "Defense, give us at least one fucking stop!"

"Tyler, chill," I say, putting my hand on his shoulder. “We’ve got this.”

Tyler looks at me for a moment, then laughs. "You're right. Okay. Go spread some sunshine and rainbows, Hero."

It's my new nickname from the team after Tyler spread the word that 'Touchdown' was forever retired. I shake my head and pick up my helmet. "You guys have to think of a new one. That's even worse than the old."

After discussing some adjustments, we head out for the second half, and I see Joe and the rest of the defense go to work. The adjustments they made are effective, and for the first time tonight, the Carolina Swamp Foxes punt the ball. We return the ball to our forty, and as the offense goes out, we know there's a chance to start to stretch our lead.

We line up, and as the ball snaps, I explode across the line, directly into the side of Jerome Lattimore, who was passed by our guard and tackle. He's huge, and has nearly fifty pounds on me, but I've got speed and surprise, and as he gets driven to the turf, I feel something jump over me and hear the roar of the crowd.

I scramble up to see our running back off to the races, nobody in front of him, and we go in with one play for a sixty-yard touchdown.

"Nice block," Coach Thibedeau says when I have a seat. "The old Duncan wouldn't have hit that hard."

"You think?" I ask, smirking. "Remember, Coach, if I throw some pancakes out there, that gets me a better draft position too, you know."

Coach shakes his head and chuckles. "Right. Well, get ready. See if this stays together."

In the end, we take Carolina's heart and win the game handily. Afterward, in our locker room, you'd expect that we'd sound like a party was going on, but we are all just too damn tired—jet lag and the idea that we have a Saturday game coming up—and we're quiet as we change and get back on the bus to take us to the airport.

"I know you're all wishing we could fly home tomorrow morning, but we've got a short week, gentlemen," Coach Bainridge says as the bus starts rolling. "Try to get some sleep. Tomorrow's a no-pads day.”

"Thank God it's an easy game Saturday,” someone behind me grumbles.

It is true. NMAE is one of the worst teams in our conference, but we can't slack off. I feel still at least a little awake, so I pull out my phone and fire up my text messenger. It's still only a little after seven back in California.

Hey, how's it going?

Carrie: Just got done watching the post-game. Congrats.

It was a tough one, but fun. How was ur day?

Carrie: Pretty terrible. Word's gotten out, and I felt like ppl were staring at me all day.

Ouch. U OK?

Carrie: I will be when U get here. I'm at ur apt.

No Dorm?

Carrie: Didn’t want to b there. At least here, I can wear ur t-shirt.

Oh my.

My phone goes silent for a bit before buzzing again. It's a picture from Carrie, and I open it to feel my mouth drop open, as she's posing in my bedroom with just one of my team t-shirts on, and from the looks of it, nothing else, her blonde hair flowing around her shoulders and a devilish-angelic smile on her face, her doe eyes glinting in amusement. There's a caption.

Go Bulldogs.