Once Upon A Tuesday
Name: Once Upon A Tuesday
Author:
1407graymalkinSummary: For Challenge #11b prompt #4. They decide that to cover their asses, they should put the biggest kid on the line in front of Jason at all times...
Rating: G
A/N: Thanks to
riggins_girl for the beta.
Jason's nearly too little to join Pee Wee, but Coach and Mr. Street decided that with an untrained arm like his (able to whip a ball 20 yards the first time he tried, before anyone even showed him how), they can manage to get someone to bend the rules.
They decide that to cover their asses, they should put the biggest kid on the line in front of Jason at all times and make sure that he's always being covered so that the other kids don't mow him down and snap his neck.
Coach sizes up both his defensive line and his offensive players. It's a toss up between Bradley Cole who's easily 55 pounds and plays a mean defensive end, or Tim Riggins who's almost 65 pounds and can carry the ball too.
Coach figures an aggressive kid like Riggins could do well as a blocker.
"Riggins," he says, calling the little boy over before practice begins. His older brother has dropped him off again. Eric's pretty sure that he's never seen the parents, but everyone in Dillon works these days, what with the oil catastrophe. The boy obediently comes, looking like an over sized puppy with that hair just past his ears.
"Yeah, Coach?" he drawls slowly.
"This is Jason. He's the new QB. He's tiny. He gets hit, it's on your head," Eric orders and shoves Jason towards Tim. The difference between the two of them is nearly laughable. Jason is barely up to Tim's broad shoulders and looks like a strong gust of wind could carry the little quarterback clear to Dallas. Tim is sturdy and looks like someone took a Varsity player and squished him into a 4 foot frame.
"Hi!" Jason squeaks, holding out his hand, the impeccable southern manners of his mother showing.
Tim grunts.
"Go practice," Eric barks, wondering if Riggins' vocabulary is actually only limited to less than 20 words, because that's about all he's ever heard out of the kid -- most of which have to do with football. He watches as they take off for the makeshift field, Street running far ahead of Riggins, who shuffles after him, looking like he's unsure if he should even be upright.
It takes the one practice for Eric to know he's struck gold. Pure gold. With someone blocking Jason, there's no fear he's going to be driven into the ground by the opposing team's defensive line. And for once, Tim looks like he might just care what was actually going on during a play other than getting to hit another player.
After practice the kids gather around the coach, beads of sweat running down their heads, their breath coming quick and short. Jason practically collapses on the grass in front of Eric when he tells them to take a knee.
"Street."
"Yes, Coach?" Jason's voice is just short of nails on a chalk board annoying.
"You gonna live?"
"Uh huh," Jason pants, lying back on the grass spread eagle and lifting his head to nod. "I didn't even get plowed into the ground once!"
"I noticed," Eric replies.
"Tim's really, really good about makin' sure no one hits me."
"That so?" Eric asks smirking. "Looks like you've got yourself a bona-fide job to do there Riggins."
"Yes sir." Tim mumbles, but when Eric turns away he notices the boys flash each other tentative smiles.
Eric releases the rest of the kids and they run to their parents, proud of their new skills. Tim hangs back, not seeing anyone, and Eric figures he’s gonna have to drop the kid off again.
“He do okay, Coach?” Mitch Street asks, bending down and picking Jason up and putting him upright on the grass.
“He did great. We’ve got Tim here blockin’ for him so maybe he won’t be planted in the ground by an opposing defensive.”
Mitch Street nods and rubs his Panther ring. “Think he’s got some talent?”
“Think he’s got a lot of talent. I think he also needs to bulk up a little. Right now he’s too small to do anything except throw and hide.”
Mitch nods. “You hear that son?” he asks. “When your mom and I say eat, you’ve got to eat.”
“Yes sir,” Jason squeaks.
“Alright, I’ll be takin’ him home now,” Mitch says. “See you on Sunday, Coach?”
Eric nods. “Yes sir.”
Jason gives Eric a hug, still too damn nice for this sport. “Bye Coach!” he says. “Thanks!” He turns to run toward his car and then pauses. “Hey, Riggins, want to come over for dinner?” he asks, looking the picture of childhood innocence.
Riggins, once again grunts and follows Street.
It’s an image that sticks with Eric forever.
Jason Street and Tim Riggins going home together for Tuesday night dinner.
Author:
1407graymalkinSummary: For Challenge #11b prompt #4. They decide that to cover their asses, they should put the biggest kid on the line in front of Jason at all times...
Rating: G
A/N: Thanks to
riggins_girl for the beta.
Jason's nearly too little to join Pee Wee, but Coach and Mr. Street decided that with an untrained arm like his (able to whip a ball 20 yards the first time he tried, before anyone even showed him how), they can manage to get someone to bend the rules.
They decide that to cover their asses, they should put the biggest kid on the line in front of Jason at all times and make sure that he's always being covered so that the other kids don't mow him down and snap his neck.
Coach sizes up both his defensive line and his offensive players. It's a toss up between Bradley Cole who's easily 55 pounds and plays a mean defensive end, or Tim Riggins who's almost 65 pounds and can carry the ball too.
Coach figures an aggressive kid like Riggins could do well as a blocker.
"Riggins," he says, calling the little boy over before practice begins. His older brother has dropped him off again. Eric's pretty sure that he's never seen the parents, but everyone in Dillon works these days, what with the oil catastrophe. The boy obediently comes, looking like an over sized puppy with that hair just past his ears.
"Yeah, Coach?" he drawls slowly.
"This is Jason. He's the new QB. He's tiny. He gets hit, it's on your head," Eric orders and shoves Jason towards Tim. The difference between the two of them is nearly laughable. Jason is barely up to Tim's broad shoulders and looks like a strong gust of wind could carry the little quarterback clear to Dallas. Tim is sturdy and looks like someone took a Varsity player and squished him into a 4 foot frame.
"Hi!" Jason squeaks, holding out his hand, the impeccable southern manners of his mother showing.
Tim grunts.
"Go practice," Eric barks, wondering if Riggins' vocabulary is actually only limited to less than 20 words, because that's about all he's ever heard out of the kid -- most of which have to do with football. He watches as they take off for the makeshift field, Street running far ahead of Riggins, who shuffles after him, looking like he's unsure if he should even be upright.
It takes the one practice for Eric to know he's struck gold. Pure gold. With someone blocking Jason, there's no fear he's going to be driven into the ground by the opposing team's defensive line. And for once, Tim looks like he might just care what was actually going on during a play other than getting to hit another player.
After practice the kids gather around the coach, beads of sweat running down their heads, their breath coming quick and short. Jason practically collapses on the grass in front of Eric when he tells them to take a knee.
"Street."
"Yes, Coach?" Jason's voice is just short of nails on a chalk board annoying.
"You gonna live?"
"Uh huh," Jason pants, lying back on the grass spread eagle and lifting his head to nod. "I didn't even get plowed into the ground once!"
"I noticed," Eric replies.
"Tim's really, really good about makin' sure no one hits me."
"That so?" Eric asks smirking. "Looks like you've got yourself a bona-fide job to do there Riggins."
"Yes sir." Tim mumbles, but when Eric turns away he notices the boys flash each other tentative smiles.
Eric releases the rest of the kids and they run to their parents, proud of their new skills. Tim hangs back, not seeing anyone, and Eric figures he’s gonna have to drop the kid off again.
“He do okay, Coach?” Mitch Street asks, bending down and picking Jason up and putting him upright on the grass.
“He did great. We’ve got Tim here blockin’ for him so maybe he won’t be planted in the ground by an opposing defensive.”
Mitch Street nods and rubs his Panther ring. “Think he’s got some talent?”
“Think he’s got a lot of talent. I think he also needs to bulk up a little. Right now he’s too small to do anything except throw and hide.”
Mitch nods. “You hear that son?” he asks. “When your mom and I say eat, you’ve got to eat.”
“Yes sir,” Jason squeaks.
“Alright, I’ll be takin’ him home now,” Mitch says. “See you on Sunday, Coach?”
Eric nods. “Yes sir.”
Jason gives Eric a hug, still too damn nice for this sport. “Bye Coach!” he says. “Thanks!” He turns to run toward his car and then pauses. “Hey, Riggins, want to come over for dinner?” he asks, looking the picture of childhood innocence.
Riggins, once again grunts and follows Street.
It’s an image that sticks with Eric forever.
Jason Street and Tim Riggins going home together for Tuesday night dinner.