Novel & Cerita Fiction About Football

He read it with the particular tone of someone presenting evidence, measured and precise, each word landing with the deliberateness of someone who wanted you to hear what they were hearing. "The most quietly electric partnership in college football this season," he read, "built on a trust that reads less like strategy and more like instinct." He set the page down. He looked at me. "This is the kind of language that creates a narrative," he said. "It's a football profile." "It's a story people will project onto." "Let them."

"No messing around." Football was something I cared about. I didn't think I would pursue it past college, but it was one thing I was good at, where I wouldn't get judged. My grades weren't the best, not only was I average, I managed that only after an all-nighter cramming for a test. It was hard to balance football and my grades, and I'd found that cramming for a test was easier than doing my homework. I had to maintain a C-average, at least, to play football, so I did what I could.

He stiffened in his seat, his eyes narrowing into cold slits as he stared at Marcus. "Five years ago," Marcus continued, his eyes sweeping the room, locking onto the lens of the primary global sports network camera, "this club suffered a catastrophic blow when my career ended on live television. The public narrative released by this front office stated that a brilliant young rehabilitation therapist named Vivienne Cross, operating under her father Dr. Arthur Cross, falsified my medical clearance for personal financial gain." A murmur rippled through the press corps. Journalists began typing furiously on their laptops.

I looked at the left, Chuma, one of the school team footballers was narrating one of his long tales of how he single handedly took the ball from our team's side of the field to the opponent's, dribbling all and scored from outside-18 to whomever cared to listen, he did get some attention mostly from girls-obviously not because they believed him but because he's cute and popular. I looked away to Alfred, he was picking his nose as usual, I turned away in disgust to avoid seeing the next thing that would happen. But sadly, my strong imaginative ability wasn't a FBI agent on sabbatical leave after solving the big case that took down the biggest drug lord in Alabama.

“Football” I suddenly uttered without thinking. “Football?” “yyYeeEssS” Her eyes strayed from one part of my body to another. “How did you get all this bruises? Your eye! it's swollen. What happened to your hair, and your clothes? You're such a mess. Tell me what happened to you and who did this to you? Tell me,” “I swear I was playing football. I was roughed a couple of times, and that's how I sustained this injuries”

Sluttiness is not something a girl wakes up and decides to do. Its not a life choice a person just picks up like a career... Being a slut shocks even the slut, i would know, why? Because I'm a slut. Anyways, like I said, you dont just plan to become a slut, all you have to do is watch sports and drool over the hot players on the field. There’s just something about football players that really turns my clock, you know? I mean, they work out religiously, they understand discipline, and, if they’re any good, they work well as a team.

Football was an important part of the man I loved, and I would have no sooner taken it from him than I would've cut off his arm. Of course, I was now a part of the sports press. My job with Marla Smith's organization was challenging and exciting, and it gave me insight into Leo's career and into the game of football. I'd done several stories that had made it to the website, although Marla was very selective about what went up. My most popular reports so far had been my profile of Kara Crocker, which we also used to promote the Crockers' book, and a fun story about single football players that showed a different side of the glamorous, playboy lifestyle so many people believed they led.

"I KNEW you had lost your virginity! I just... Shit, I don't know, but... You've had this glow ever since that game... Wait, is this mysterious guy on the football team?!" My face turns bright red, and Linnea snorts. Her lips are quivering, and her eyes are sparkling. "OH-MY-GOD!" "Shh!" I hush her. "Quiet, or the other two will hear you!" "I'm sorry, I'm just..." Linnea shakes her head. "I can't believe you're sleeping with a football player—those guys are like gods on campus! Girls go to their games like it's their church and the men are part of their religion! Most of the guys are treated like gods!"

I said in a low murmur. Noah nodded and leaned back in his seat. His expression dimmed and I felt bad for saying no. It's true that I am not a sports person. I knew nothing about the games. It's not like I didn't try, I did try to understand the rules, but it was all too complicated and I gave up trying to understand it. Football is a game where two teams chased a ball. I understood the concept of scoring a goal–the other terms are still a mystery.

"Didn't know the star quarterback was so handy with bandaids." "More than meets the eye with me." He was definitely surprising me at the moment. Most often than not football players were seen as cocky, flirty, playboys, and assholes. Or maybe that was only for those that have read too many teenfic novels. Yet here he was being kind to a complete stranger. I was bracing myself for the flirty comments to start but so far none have come. "Thank you." I whispered. He really didn't have to bring me here and clean me up. He probably had better things to do with his time.