There's nothing like the smells in the stadium. The hot dogs and chalupas and nachos. The vinyl on a brand new jersey. The fresh cut grass. It's where I feel most comfortable. It reminds me of my childhood, my high school years, my college years. It gives me a feeling of nostalgia and joy. I love it.I wave off the person handing out noise makers when she tries to give me one. I love the concept, but I never use them. When I watch a soccer game, my eyes never leave the field. I become almost mesmerized. So there's no reason to waste the plastic.I make my way down the stadium steps, heading toward my normal section. The Mutiny players are all allowed to give out two tickets per game. Sometimes more if they have special permission. Except for family which sits in the team box, the tickets are right here. In section one hundred. Center field. Right on the field. Best seats in the house.Considering how many of the players I party with, I'm usually able to get my hands on a ticket. I've b

ROWENI can hear the sounds of the party before I even get to the door. Sounds like this one is going to be wilder than most of Shivel's get togethers. Not that I've been to a lot of them. He didn't start inviting me until a couple of weeks. I still don't really understand why.He makes it obvious in practice that I'm "below" him because I'm not a starter. Not that I need the reminder. My dad was on the premier league in Europe. I know full well what the hierarchy is like.Making my way into the apartment, I immediately see Anthony Fordova. I played against him in college. Nice guy."Hey Rowen!" he says, coming in for a man hug. "Good to see you, man! How've you been?" He smells like a brewery and his eyes are a little hazy. Guess he's been here for a while."Good, man! I can't believe you're already a starting forward. That's amazing."He waves me off. "Says the rookie who has already been moved up from the practice team." Anthony was a couple of years ahead of me in school and was al

An hour later, I'm sitting alone on the balcony at Mack's place, waiting for Sasha to either pass out or get bored. We're taking a cab, but I can't leave her here alone. We do some crazy shit, but for the most part, we try to watch each other's backs.I watch as my whiskey swirls around in my glass. But all I can think about is the look on Rowen's face when Mack declared me the winner. It was a mixture of shock and anger. Those looks I can handle. I've seen it all before as people flit in and out of our circle of friends. It's the disappointment that I can't let go of.Which I don't understand at all. I've never claimed to be anything other than what I am. I'm not here to snag a player as a husband. I've never strived to become a WAG. I just like partying with the guys and I love sex. Period. The end.So why does Rowen's opinion matter to me at all?The door to the balcony slowly slides open and I down the rest of my drink, assuming Sasha is finally ready to call it a night. I put the

Exhausted, sweaty, and we all stink. But for the first time, I don't feel like I have one foot in the grave after practice. My body must have finally pushed passed that plateau I've been struggling with. It feels good to keep up more.I trail in behind the others, throwing my jersey in the giant laundry cart on my way by. I can't imagine being the person who does laundry around here. Practice clothes are disgusting. If it was me, I'd be tempted to set the whole cart on fire on a daily basis.The locker room is loud. When a few dozen sweaty athletes all start throwing gear around, the noise level definitely goes up a few notches. I almost don't hear Christian over it all."Did you ask her out?""What?" I ask as I strip off my cleats. "Who? What are you talking about?""I seem to remember a conversation we had a couple weeks ago about a certain sports producer who was catching your eye." I can feel my face start to flush. I had forgotten about the conversation. Not about what I had lear

"Um, hi. Tiffany?" The voice on the line sounds familiar, but I can't quite place it."Yes?""This is Rowen. Rowen Flanigan?"My heart starts pounding and a feel a smile stretch across my face. "Hey, Rookie. How are you?""I'm good. I hope I didn't catch you in the middle of something important." He sounds kind of nervous, which is strange because he has always come across as quiet before, but not usually nervous. Of course, we've only interacted a handful of times so I guess I can't really make that judgment.I lean back in my chair. "I'm just at work.""Oh shit," he says. "I totally forgot you would be working today. I forget not everyone has rotating hours like me. I can call you later.""No, no!" I say quickly, afraid he's going to hang up. "I'm just doing some research right now. I'm not in the middle of anything pressing.""Oh. Okay. Can I ask what the research is on?"I relax back into my chair and smile again. "I'm researching stats on Football Hall of Famers. The list of this