Tim Green: The Big Time

"I took a pain pill this morning," Troy said, flexing his finger stiffly.

"Well, look brave," Seth said, angling his head toward the field. A cameraman with a handheld camera and an assistant holding the cable were moving their way with the camera pointed at Troy. "You're on."

"I thought the media wasn't allowed inside the yellow rope," Troy said.

"That's the FOX game camera. The NFL lets one network cameraman inside the yellow, and that's him," Seth said. "You want me to make him go away?"

Troy had nothing against being on TV, so he shook his head. The cameraman came right up to him and Seth, moving the lens back and forth just inches from their faces. The thought of being on TV brought back the nervousness he'd felt on Larry King Live , and Troy could only stand there as stiff as a ruler.

"Troy?" the cameraman asked. "You two going to put one on the Packers today?"

Troy forced a smile and gave a thumbs-up.

"Seth," the cameraman said, "how's it feel knowing what the other team is going to do before they do?"

"Well," Seth said, slinging an arm around Troy's shoulder, "I wouldn't say it's before they know, but it's not too long after. You still gotta make the play, though, right? It's not chess; it's still football."

"Great," the cameraman said with a nod, moving on toward some other players.

"I felt so goofy," Troy said, watching them go.

"You'll get used to it," Seth said, flicking a finger at the brim of Troy's hat so it tipped back on his head.

"Seth, my mom said you've got something to tell me? She said the season might not be over? I mean, we won the championship. There's nothing after that, right?"

Seth broke out into a huge grin. "That's what I thought." He nodded over at where Tate and Nathan sat on the bench. "Come on, let me tell the three of you together. You're all going to be a part of it."

"It's something good, my mom said." Troy's palms were actually sweating with anticipation.

"No," Seth said, "it's something great."

THE DOORS TO THEdome had been opened, and fans had begun to trickle in, their excited talk washing over the hum of the lights. Troy knew that the entire city of Atlanta had been electrified by the Falcons late-season run at the playoffs, led by their favorite star, Seth Halloway.

Troy followed Seth over to the bench, where the star linebacker greeted Nathan and Tate.

"So," Seth said, "I've got some good news for all three of you. It's something I wasn't even aware of, being a latecomer to this junior league coaching thing. The other night, one of the state league officials let me know about this thing they call the Border War."

"Border War?" Troy said.

"Georgia versus Florida," Seth said. "It's a tradition. This Saturday, when the SEC has their championship game in the Georgia Dome, they host an all-star game between the best junior league players from Georgia and Florida. It's on the morning of the big game. The coaches from both colleges watch from the sidelines, too. Good way to get on their radar screen for early recruiting."

"We play against kids from Florida?" Nathan asked. "The Duluth Tigers?"

"Not the Tigers," Seth said. "It's an all-star team. All the best junior league players in Georgia get put on the same team to go against the best kids in Florida."

"And we're on the team?" Tate asked.

"If you want to be," Seth said. "I'm the coach, and since we won the championship, they told me I could bring my four best players. That's you three, plus Rusty Howell."

Troy was the heart of the championship team and could throw as well as anyone his age. Nathan was one of the biggest twelve-year-olds on the planet and had anchored the Duluth Tigers' line. Tate had already won the regional punt, pass, and kick competition with her powerful leg. Rusty was Troy's top receiver and the fastest kid any of them knew.

"Of course we want to," Troy said. "This is great!"

"Who else is on the team?" Nathan asked.

Seth said, "Valdosta got to name three players since they were second in the state. The other top ten each got to name two players, and then there are about a dozen others from all over. And, get this, everyone who plays gets a scholarship."

"Scholarship?" Tate asked.

"Five thousand dollars," Seth said, nodding, "and ten thousand if we win it. It's good for any college you end up going to. We'll be having practices during your Thanksgiving vacation, though. So, you guys in?"

"Of course!"

"Yes!"

"For sure!"

"Okay," Seth said, "I told you it was great news. Our first practice is Tuesday night. Now, I gotta get going here. I don't want you guys to be the only champs around town."

They all wished him good luck, and Seth put his headphones back on before continuing his jog around the field. The three of them talked excitedly about the Border War and playing against Florida's all-stars right there in the Georgia Dome. When Tate and Nathan started to talk about the scholarship money, Troy kept quiet and could only think about the money he was already making as the Falcons football genius and how it sometimes didn't seem real.

As the dome began to fill up, people also filtered out onto the sidelines. A long bright yellow rope ran from one post to another, marking the area on the sideline where only the players, coaches, and team employees were allowed to go. Outside, media and VIP guests of the team were allowed to watch the warm-ups and to speak to the players who wandered near.

When the three of them ambled up the sideline to watch the Falcons' receivers practice one-handed catches, Troy was surprised to hear his name being called from somewhere behind the yellow rope. He took a quick glance and recognized the face of a man with spiked blond hair who wore dark sunglasses with flashy rims and what looked like a bicycle chain made of gold with a platinum thousand-dollar bill dangling from it.

"That's G Money," Troy said without thinking.

Nathan and Tate stopped and stared.

"Cool," Nathan said. "Gangsta rap. I just got his new CD; it's, like, his fourth one to go platinum."

"What's he doing here?" Tate asked.

"He's big-time," Nathan said.

"What about all the rumors that he's still part of that gang from Chicago?" Tate asked. "Look at that other guy. Is that a jaguar tattooed on his neck?"

Troy saw the enormous man who stood just behind G Money. He was as big as the NFL linemen, with a bald pink head and rimless, rectangular eyeglass frames. His small right ear was a tattered mess, but Troy barely noticed it past the rolls of fat on his neck and the deadly stare of his cold blue eyes. On his face he wore a thick, furry beard, rounded like a cartoon character's and giving no sign of the mouth behind it.

"Aw," Nathan said, swatting at the air, "you watch too much TV. That's all an act."

"I don't know," Tate said under her breath. "That guy's scary."

"Seth took me by G Money's house in Cotton Wood once," Troy said. "It's the biggest mansion in that place, a huge white thing with columns as tall as telephone poles."

"Hey," Tate said, pointing not toward G Money but to the man standing on the opposite side of him from the big guy.

"Troy!" the man called, waving his hand for Troy to come over.

"Oh my God," Troy said, the blood rushing to his brain.

"That's my dad."

TROY APPROACHED THE YELLOWrope, his heart swelling with pride. Gramps and his mom said if his father truly wanted a relationship, he wouldn't give up; and showing up on the Falcons' sideline certainly wasn't giving up. It wasn't a lawsuit, but to Troy it looked good enough to count for that "first move" his mom had spoken about.

"Let me introduce you and your friends," Troy's dad said, dipping under the rope and tugging G Money along with him, leaving the scary guy behind.