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“In! I am in, my friend.” Calvin high-fived him and the other players who crowed at the idea of wrecking their diets. “Who’s in?”

Tyler nodded to himself as he snapped on his pads. Ribs sounded great, but he doubted he’d get anywhere close. Today was survival, and his odds were crap.

In truth, he suspected that he might die today if just one thing went wrong on the field. And from the looks exchanged between his fellow Swells, it seemed most of them thought what he was doing was crazy and dangerous… even with imaginary barbecue as camouflage.

But Tyler refused to let them down—or himself. He carefully taped up his wrists and pulled on his uniform, trying to summon every ounce of courage and resolve within him. Today he would face the Cowboys and emerge stronger, no matter the cost. For his team, for his family, and for Josh.

Last night he’d been rereading the Dumas again, wanting to call Josh but knowing it would make things worse. A quote in the book had leaped out at him: “The merit of all things lies in their difficulty.”

“Remember who you are,” he whispered to himself, feeling the sweat start to bead on his forehead. He cracked his neck slowly and deliberately, enjoying the staggered crunch of it. Again he heard Josh whispering inside his helmet: “All for one, and you for me.”

Tyler took a deep breath as Coach McBride gathered the team. At the end of his speech, he addressed the elephant in the room.

“Listen up, men,” McBride bellowed. “Cowboys are going to be gunning for Fantana out there every second he’s in play. To try and kill him.”

The players murmured angrily at this. Tyler shifted his weight, unsure where this was going.

McBride pointed at him. “I guarantee they see his bum heart as a weakness to exploit. Now you fellows know, Fantana knows, I know, that’s a load of BS.”

“Sir,” Tyler barked in agreement, mostly for the public chest-thumping. Still, he appreciated the pep talk and the reminder to the other players that he’d be a constant target.

“Well I say, to hell with that!” McBride shouted. Janowitz and the assistant coaches clapped and nodded in assent. “In his hospital gown, Fantana can run circles around those pantywaists. Five minutes is all we’re giving them to try.”

The Swells growled and thumped their chests back at McBride. Fawcett shouted something and raised his fist at his squad.

McBride scowled at the whole team, his mustache bristling as he found his words. “Let me be clear, gentlemen. Your primary job during those five minutes is to protect him with everything you got, even if it gets ugly. You have my full permission do whatever it takes to keep Tyler safe out there. Anything.”

Fawcett said, “Hear! Hear!” and nodded in agreement. He glanced at Tyler and gave him a direct thumbs-up.

“You all know what that means, what that takes.” McBride sounded adamant. “You are his shield. I want you running interference, blocking tackles, keeping them off balance and out of range, doing whatever you got to keep this man’s heart beating for those five minutes.” He thumped Tyler’s shoulder pads with affectionate violence. “Until we can get Ass-tastic off the field safely.”

Tyler nodded at the head coach in gratitude. The team roared their assent.

McBride muttered something positive, but Tyler couldn’t hear it above the rest of the shouting. He felt a surge of gratitude for his fellow Swells. The coaches and the players wanted him to know they had his back. Someone must have said something, expressed concern about the management’s cockamamie idea to gamble Tyler’s safety as clickbait.

Tyler’s gratitude overwhelmed him. Still crappy odds, but better than fifty-fifty, at least.

“Out in three,” McBride dismissed the huddle, and Tyler headed to his locker. He tugged his jersey on, number eighty-six, and for once it felt unlucky as hell.

Odell ambled over, squinting at him. The young quarterback looked almost sheepish. Today he’d be starting for the first time, so the pressure had to be messing with him too.

Tyler bobbed his head. “S’up?”

“Got a sec?” Odell said quietly. “We on you. You need to know I got something special for you ready to go. A Hail Mary if anything goes south.” He stared into Tyler’s eyes a moment, unblinking. “Screw them. I don’t give a damn what they making you do, but if we need it, if you want it… I got it.” He gave Tyler a hard, scared stare.

Tyler’s eyes widened; finally he leaned closer. “Hail Mary? You serious?”

Odell nodded, and a couple of rookies nearby did as well. So a few guys were in on it. “Kids don’t want to watch our Great White Gramps humping around the shallows waiting to go boom like a movie shark.”

“Me neither.” Tyler chuckled and leaned in, thumping Odell on the back and muttering in his ear, “Thanks, man.”

Odell got somber, real concern in his eyes. “Things get rough, you look my way.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t get that crazy.” Tyler realized what he meant, what he was saying. Loud and clear. They shook hands firmly.

“Same. But it does, no matter what, you look sharp.” Odell nodded and walked backward away from him. “Inshallah, brother.”

Tyler felt calmer at least. The team had begun to drift to the door and the lineup.