Two for One -- by Troy Oliver

I slowly leaned forward and peered over Elijah’s shoulder at the clipboard. Just as I suspected. There was a line drawn through the words “will begin promptly at 9:00am.” Elijah was attempting to make Foster think we wanted Spradling, but didn’t get her. Foster was building a finesse team, and if he thought we were too, he might play us that way later on. That’s how far ahead Elijah was thinking. But, in reality, we had used our first pick to take a smash-mouth quarterback. Tara McCain. And Elijah was building … a junk-yard team.

Rounds two, three, and four were the money rounds. Anybody could make a top-ten list. But not everybody knew how to make picks. These were the rounds where teams were crafted, like spokes around the cog of a wheel. Our cog was a rough-and-tumble quarterback with a gritty style and a mean heart. She wasn’t the athelete that Emily was, but Tara had a way of getting to the next yard-line. So that’s what kind of a team we intended to build.

Elijah knew who to pick next. As he walked over to the mic, the crowds hushed.

“Mary Beth … um … “ He pointed. He didn’t know her last name and I was now holding the clipboard. I scrambled to find her name but it was nowhere on the board. He said it again. “You know … Mary Beth.”

It was embarrassing. Our new player, whose last name we had yet to learn, sauntered over. She had curly hair and a pleasant smile, and seemed to be forgiving of our lapse.

Elijah walked back over and grabbed the clipboard out of my hand, with a look that seemed to say Where were you, dude? I shot one back. How was I supposed to know it?

Suddenly we were approached from the side. I turned to see Ryan Davis. He was the tall, dark, and handsome type. A method football coach, with a very quiet approach. He and Foster had coached together in the past and were rumored to be on bad terms. He stood next to us a moment, stroking his chin. Elijah stared back.

“What?” Elijah asked.

Ryan waited a moment.

“I want Mary Beth.” Ryan was scheduled to have the next pick, but because he had traded his first pick away to Brandon Booker, he had the next two picks. We saw an opportunity.

“We’ll take those next two picks off your hands …” Elijah said looking back at his clipboard.

“Done.”

Mary Beth squealed. She was not happy about playing for a coach who had not bothered to look up her last name, and seemed also to have a bit of a “thing” for Ryan Davis. We wished her well, and went back to work, as she and Ryan made their way to her new camp.

“I knew we could get those picks,” Elijah muttered. I looked over at him.

“Huh?”

“We all have a reason for every pick. I want to win. Davis wants to score.” He nodded in their direction. They were already flirting. “Now I get two.” He headed back over to the mic, where Andy Zimmerman was announcing the trade.

Elijah stood for a moment behind the mic. Then he looked up. I could see the gears turning.

“Holly Porter. Tara Conder.”

The junk-yarding had begun.