Trey blew out a sigh. “Look, man, I know that Samson Hill is a reputable quarterback—”
“Reputable? Try renowned,” Drew corrected. “You should see the coverage he’s getting from the papers. It’s like he’s a golden god.”
Drew heard his father’s footsteps on the stairs. He turned his back toward the kitchen door as his dad entered.
“He’s not a golden god,” Trey said. “You can be just as good as he is. All you’ve got to do is delineate your goals. Make sure you know exactly what you want to do, then go out there and execute. Show him what you’re capable of. Get under his skin. The guy’s not impervious. Work hard, be diligent, do your thing, and you’ll throw him off his game.”
“You think?” Drew asked, feeling a flutter of hope inside his chest.
“Dude, I know you can do this. You totally have it in you to foil this guy,” Trey said. “I know it sucked having to play backup the past couple of years, but you were the best JV quarterback the Eagles ever had, don’t forget that.”
“Thanks, Trey,” Drew said. He could feel his dad watching him, and he turned toward the wall to hide his smile. “That means a lot coming from the paragon of the program.”
Trey laughed. “You gotta get off that bandwagon, man. Don’t forget, I’m starting over here, too. I’m nothing but a neophyte now. Last night the seniors grabbed all the frosh from their beds and hosed us down in the middle of the field. The Trey Benson era is officially over.”
“You’re kidding me,” Drew said, stifling a laugh.
“I wish,” Trey said. “Listen, I gotta get to practice, but just remember: Immerse yourself in your game. Live it, breathe it, and you’ll be fine. Confidence is paramount, Drew. I can’t stress that enough.”
“Thanks, Trey,” Drew said, feeling more confident than he had in weeks.
“You got it, man. Good luck,” Trey said.
“You, too,” Drew replied.
They hung up, and Drew felt a smile forming on his lips. Trey was right. He could do this. Samson Hill couldn’t be that deft a quarterback. It wasn’t like he’d been recruited by any big schools yet. As long as Drew showed fortitude and focus, he had a shot.
“Was that your brother?” Drew’s dad asked, sipping at his coffee.
Drew glanced at his father’s hulking frame, pressed into his dark blue suit, his neck straining at the tight collar of his shirt. His father’s brown hair had gone iron gray on the sides, which somehow only made his overall look even more intimidating.
“Yep,” Drew answered curtly. He didn’t want to invite a conversation, even though he knew he couldn’t avoid one. He sat down again and started shoveling scrambled eggs into his mouth.
“He didn’t want to talk to me?” his father asked.
“Nope,” Drew replied, enjoying the pang he knew this would give his father.