Football Locker Room Stories Novels & Stories

Sadly, all I want to do is get a full workout in and feel a football on the side of my foot. Larry and I follow Coach Mitchel and Aiden. This first meeting is taking place in the locker room. I learned during my community college days that separating myself from the guys by using another locker room didn't work. The team building, bitching, impromptu coaching sessions, stress-relieving fights, and celebrations all happen within the hallowed walls of the locker room. It's the one place players can be themselves. My contract gives me a private bathroom, changing room, and shower inside the guys' domain. It won't be available for a few weeks, though. The battle for the same locker room space wi

We didn't pause to look at any of them but I noticed a lot were of milestones the team had achieved. "Here's the first stop." Harold pulled us to a stop in front of a closed door. His hand hovered over the door handle and he had a wide grin on. "Just open the door." I tutted, nudging his hip with mine as he kept me waiting. With a dramatic motion he opened the door and swung it open. I ventured further in, dropping his hand although I instantly missed the feel of it. I was standing in the locker room where the entire Patriots team changed and used. The room seemed to stretch for a mile I swear. Both walls lined with boxes/cubicles for each player to put their uniform and clothes in. The floo

“Not out here though. Let’s go in the locker room. Almost everyone should be gone.” Logan grabs my hand and pulls me into the guy’s locker room. It’s a lot different than I was expecting. It is a little messy with some equipment helmets, pads, and footballs thrown around but for the most part it is actually pretty clean. It doesn’t smell bad like I was expecting either.

Leo The closed-door meeting felt worse than any game I had played all season, because hockey at least followed rules that made sense, where effort led to results and mistakes could usually be corrected before the final buzzer, but locker rooms were different, locker rooms remembered every frustration, every slight, every resentment that had been swallowed for the sake of winning, and as I sat in the front row of the Northridge team room watching my teammates file in with guarded expressions and tight shoulders, I had the uncomfortable feeling that Coach wasn’t gathering us together to solve a problem, he was gathering us together because the problem had finally become too large to ignore.

Hell, we’re all over excited like pups going out for a walk. Coach comes to the center of our locker room, I have to give it to the home team they do have a nice space. The lockers aren’t your average metal ones, they’re all pine wood, the floors are non-slip tiles, and the showers are spacious. We sure have good space back home, but this looks like it’s just had some kind of face lift. “You’ve got this guys. Our stats are good, in fact they’re impressive.” Wow, he never says shit like that so we must be doing good. I know we are but it’s always extra special when your coach gives your team a shout out like this.

_*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> POV: Gunner _*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> _*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> The locker room after the game had the specific quality of a space where something significant had happened and everyone present was still processing whether it was over. _*]:min-w-0 gap-3">

“Now go tell your team.” The Locker Room The news spread through the Cannibals’ facility like wildfire. By the time Jeremy made his way to the locker room, the players were buzzing. Alexandra, Heather, Morty, and Lockjaw were already there, along with Jenifer Walter, who stood at the front, arms crossed and a small, knowing smile on her face. Jeremy stepped into the room, and a hush fell. He looked at his team-his family-and felt the weight of their hope and expectation.

Brute force with an empty skull. A few of the other guys joined in, tossing back their own crude jokes as they stripped off sweat-soaked jerseys and peeled away pads. My fingers kept trembling, but I worked the laces faster, hoping no one noticed. The worst thing you could do in this locker room was stop, freeze up, and let them see how the words hit you. That was blood in the water, and these guys were sharks who didn’t know how to leave a wounded animal alone. Usually, I didn’t care about the jokes, hell I joined in most times, but it just felt fucking different today.

“Keep that energy for the game!” If only he knew the fire was all because of one quiet, repressed pastor’s son who kept saying no while his body screamed yes. In the locker room afterward, the guys were loud and rowdy — slapping towels, joking about girls, bragging about weekend plans. I laughed along, changing slowly, muscles aching pleasantly from the hard session. But my mind was elsewhere. Leon in my jersey. Leon on the rooftop. Leon’s hand in mine. The way his breath had caught when I whispered about the party. I could already picture him tomorrow night — nervous, flushed, wearing something nice because I told him to. On my arm. Under my control.

"Nah. You're a great driver. Besides, it's the only time I see you now that you're whipped." "Shut up. And don't tell the guys. It’s easier to just call him my boyfriend than explain the whole 'hanging out and sleeping together' thing." "You look happy, man. That’s all I’m saying." The locker room was a wall of noise. Heavy bass, the smell of tape and sweat. I suited up, pulling on the Wolves jersey and grabbing my stick. "Let's go! Let's hunt!"