The Legend of Jesse Smoke (8 page)

“I thought you hated that word,” I said, elbowing her.

She winked at me. “For Andy’s benefit.”

And then Andy hugged her, leaning back and lifting her a bit off the floor, getting mud all over the front of his Oxford shirt. When he put Jesse down, she accidentally spilled a little of her champagne on him.

“Oops. I’m sorry,” she said, laughing, trying to brush it off the front of him, whereupon he took the glass from her ever so gently, held it up high, and poured it over his own head. Everybody cheered. “
This
is how you celebrate,” he said, the bubbly dripping off his brow. “God bless all of you. I love every one of you.” It really was a triumphant moment.

A lot of the players were crying now. Hell, I almost got a few tears in my eyes. I looked at Jesse, at the way she stood there, her legs slightly apart, her arms dangling now by her sides, the light glittering
in her eyes, and knew I had to do everything I could to protect her from any sort of harm. She was fatherless in a big world and people would want to exploit her and use her. She was so damned bright-eyed about everything. She loved football, and maybe didn’t even know just how talented she really was. It was all just competition to her, and fun. She didn’t know how cold it would get when the world knew what she could do.

And it was right then when I realized how damn serious I was about her; it was then that I made up my mind that I would bring her to camp and some way, somehow, get her on the field to let everyone see what she could do. If I had told anyone what I was thinking at that moment, they would have thought I was crazy. Probably I was.

And suddenly the whole future seemed in equal parts frightening, exciting, and, though I wouldn’t have been able to say quite why, sad.

I’d gotten to know Jesse pretty well during our drills, but I was so wrapped up in the mechanics of how I was going to show her off to the guys in camp, having her run a few plays against the men, that I’d forgotten one important skill necessary to play quarterback. And then, when I heard her yell during the celebration, it hit me. Her voice. I’d never paid much attention to it. From the stands I hadn’t been able to hear it, and she never called signals when we practiced. (I started every play by hollering “Go,” which is pretty stupid, even for an NFL assistant like me.) Her form was so good—the whole picture she presented when she dropped back to pass and let the ball go, the accuracy of every throw one after another, the way she handled the ball, faking a handoff to the running back—it filled everything I thought and believed about her. So I’d never really thought about calling signals. The thing is, you got to shout pretty loud to do that. And when you do, you better have a voice men respond to.

Jesse had a pleasant voice when she talked, but I have to say, when I heard her during the celebration, when she hollered so she could be heard above all the others, it sounded a little too much like a bleat—like somebody just stomped down on a guinea pig. Hearing that, I got this sudden blast of fear that cramped my heart, and maybe that is what got me started; maybe her high-pitched voice prompted me to think about the future with such nerve-racking anxiety. I didn’t want her to be hurt by any experience I might be setting her up for.

Others in the loud celebration talked to me and hugged me, but my eyes never left her. I saw how her eyes lit up for every face, how she pulled her teammates together for photographs and videos, the way she refused to hog the limelight. She drank a toast to Michelle, Cissy, and Brenda. Then to the defense. Then she yelled again, a god bless to her coach, Andy Swilling. He picked her up again and then the other players joined him and they held her over their heads.

I drove home that night with the contract I was supposed to get her to sign still in my pocket.

Now I’m telling you, it was not my conscience that plagued me. I didn’t think I was actually doing anything wrong. I just got cold feet thinking of all the cards stacked against what I knew for sure now I wanted to do. And I felt as though I might have manipulated Jesse somehow—okay, that would involve my conscience, sure. But it wasn’t that. I can’t really explain how I was feeling except to say that she was young, and she trusted me—working together I’d even gotten to know her a little—and I couldn’t help realizing that, on some level, I was engineering this situation in which she would very likely be totally humiliated. More likely than not, they’d laugh her off the field. She was a woman, and football is a man’s game. No matter how well she threw the ball, they wouldn’t let her do enough of it to really see it; she would be this freak in a football uniform, a curiosity. And I didn’t want that for her. I could just imagine the
offensive linemen laughing at that high-pitched voice of hers as she called signals. I even wondered on some level whether they’d be willing to block for her, to give their best effort in protecting her when she dropped back to pass. And would any of the men be willing to play for her? Follow her?

Thinking about all of this made me more than sad. I was already grieving a terrible loss and nothing had even happened yet. I kept asking myself what I was trying to do. What was going through my mind when I told Coach Engram I had found a quarterback; when I bothered to get a contract for her? It hit me, then, that the whole thing might very well cost me my job—especially if I spent any of the team’s money to sign her.

I could pay her out of my own pocket, I supposed, but what if she got hurt? What if somebody fell on her and crushed her rib cage? Who would be liable for that?

The more I thought about it, the deeper I got into it, and by the time I got to insurance policies and injury clauses, I realized I was driving myself nuts. I took several deep breaths every morning for a while, concentrated on only the good things: Jesse’s form, her footwork, that quick release. By the time I got to work I’d feel a little better. And nothing had happened yet. That, too, was one of the good things.

A week or so after the championship I asked Jesse to meet me at the practice field where we had run all those drills. I asked Andy and Nate to join us. I was going to tell everyone what I was planning. Also, I wanted to see what Jesse sounded like when she called signals. That was the thing that had got me all discouraged and panicky about things, and I’d never actually paid any attention to it or listened for it.

I told Jesse what I was worried about, then asked her to call some signals. “Do it as loud as you can make it,” I said.

She was embarrassed. “You didn’t hear me in the games?”

“I guess I did, but I never paid any attention to it.”

She was reluctant, but she bent over like she was behind center and started barking signals. It wasn’t that bad. She sounded a little like
Neil Young, belting out a high note and, at the very top of her voice, it crackled a bit, and I thought it must be awfully painful. But she said it was nothing. It was how she always called signals.

“That’s not bad,” I said.

“I can make it louder, too, if I have to.”

“No, that’s fine. We use a silent count if it’s too noisy in the stadium. For most situations you’re plenty loud enough.”

I can’t describe how relieved I was. I was still worried about what might happen and all—I mean it still felt pretty crazy to even think about what I was trying to do—but it was easier to ignore it for some reason. We practiced a while with the footballs—I lobbed them at her while she stood there ignoring them and throwing the ball—and then we called it quits. As we were leaving, Jesse looked at me then said in a low voice to Nate, “I wish I knew what he’s got up his sleeve.”

Another week went by and I was so busy at the Park I didn’t have time for much of anything else. But I’d lay in bed all night thinking about the problem. How was I going to get her into camp? I’d watched so much Redskins film that week and slept so little, my eyes felt as if somebody had sliced them and then slapped them back together in the sockets. I didn’t go anywhere on Sunday. I told Coach Engram I had a wedding to go to, but I just stayed home and slept most of the day. And that’s how I discovered the answer. In a dream.

The next morning I called Andy and Nate and asked if they could meet me for a late dinner. I still had plenty to do with the team, and I knew I’d be all day at it, but they agreed to come by the practice facility around seven. I promised to give them a tour before we went out to eat.

Everyone was gone when they got there that night, except Coach Engram, who was working, as usual, in the film room. I gave them a quick tour, insisting that they be quiet throughout.

“Man that was something,” Nate said, when we got back to the parking lot outside.

“Yeah. It’s one of the best facilities in the league,” I said.

“Imagine if the Divas had something like
that
,” Andy said.

“Yeah,” I said. “Imagine.”

“I’d sure love to work on one of those machines in that weight room,” Nate said.

“Well,” I said, “I got a way where I think you can, actually.”

In all my recent anxiety about Jesse, what always ran through the back of my mind was the certain knowledge that if I could only get her enough time out on the field with the men, they would see what I had seen. I just had to get her to the place where she could perform against the men long enough that the men could not only see her play but find themselves challenged by her. She wouldn’t be throwing to Michelle and Brenda—good as those girls were at catching the ball—no, she’d be firing it as hard as she could, right into the broad, flat, strong, soft hands of Darius Exley, Rob Anders, and the other wide receivers on the team.

“Where we going?” Andy said.

I stopped in front of my Chevy Suburban and looked at Nate. “Mind if I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.” He was wearing blue slacks and a sweatshirt. His hair lay flat on his head, almost like a painted surface, and he had a small gold earring in his right ear. And as I said earlier, he was tall and fit, without an ounce of fat on him.

“You ever play football?” I asked.

“Not so anyone would notice.”

“How’d you meet Jesse, anyway?”

“I told you. We were in school together, all the way from elementary school.”

“You’ve known her that long?”

“Sure.”

I opened the door of the Suburban. “I’ll drive. Get in.”

“Where to?” Andy repeated as he climbed in the backseat.

Nate got in front and I started the engine. “A hamburger joint I know.”

It was a place out near Dulles Airport called Benny’s that had pretty good burgers. While we waited for our food, I decided to see what they thought of my idea, because I’d need both of them to pull it off. “Listen,” I said, “You know it’s going to be pretty hard to get anybody at Redskins Park to watch Jesse long enough to assess the quality of her play.”

“But can’t you do something about that?” Andy said, surprised. “You’re the offensive coordinator.”

“Yeah, and that won’t mean a whole hell of a lot once they know she’s a girl.”

“
She
would probably use the word ‘woman,’” Nate said, perfectly serious.

“I know. So would I. That wasn’t me talking. It’s how
they’ll
think of her, see, and how they’ll talk about her.”

“So what do we do about that?” said Nate.

“I have an idea. And it’s easy enough to pull off if you guys will support me on it.”

They were quiet for a minute, watching me.

“What if I show up the first day at camp with you, Nate.”

“With
me
?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t get it.”

“I told Coach Engram I’d found a quarterback, see.
So
on the first day, when we have all those meetings and such to run through, there’s so many players there, he won’t know who you are from Adam. You just answer to the name Jesse Smoke.” I turned to Andy. “I’ll get a uniform—all the equipment she needs, pads, flak jacket, helmet, pants, shoes and socks, jockstrap, everything—and you take it home with you. Then that first day, Nate, when we’re ready for passing drills, you stand in and throw the ball.”

“I can’t throw anything like Jesse.”

“It won’t matter. You can throw it. I’ve seen you. You got enough on it to throw it a perfectly good distance. And they won’t pay much attention to accuracy in the beginning. All we’ll be looking at the first day is conditioning, release, and arm strength. You’ve certainly got that. And between now and then, I can show you a few other things.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

Andy said, “I think I see where you’re going with this.”

“Then, the first day of contact scrimmage, Andy, you bring Jesse here and I’ll get her out on the field. In uniform, nobody’ll even dream she’s a woman. She’s tall enough and solid enough they won’t think twice about it. She’ll just be a number. And then I’ll get her in the scrimmage.”

“Look,” Nate said, “isn’t it just the coach and a few assistants you need to see her?”

I nodded. “And then if
they
buy into it, we can work on the players. Why?”

“So why do we have to do all this scheming to get her on the field. Why not just set up a meeting with the coach and a couple of the receivers, maybe a center, and just let her show them what she can do?”

It wasn’t a bad idea. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of it. I didn’t need to sell the players and coaches all at once. I only had to get her in front of Engram and let her throw the ball. He’d see what I saw. Jesse could throw it better than he ever had.

Nate said, “You could set something like that up, right?”

“Yeah, I think I could.”

“You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?” Andy said.

“No joke,” I said. “Not anymore, anyway. If I can get her on this team, I’m gonna do it.”

“What about
my
team?”

This took me by surprise. “
Your
team?”

“We’ve signed her to play four years for us.”

“You did what?”

“The owners signed her the day after the championship.”

I sat there with my mouth open. I didn’t know what to say. I’d never expected Andy to be a problem. I thought we were in this together. Now there was something out in the open we had to deal with and of course I had gotten it there with my big mouth.