Slim James and the Edge
Three more days had passed since Barry Sanders began putting me through private lessons.
Throughout them, Sanders had tilted his head this way and that while helping with my training, as if something about it refused to make sense to him — though by now, he'd simply learned to let it go.
"You're slow as molasses. That's it for today."
With that parting shot from Sanders — too mild to even count as an insult — I flopped down flat onto the field.
"Hooooh."
Lately, the black line had been appearing at least now and then during training.
It didn't trigger every time the way it had back in track, but it was thanks to those flashes that I'd been able to grind through the sessions at all.
"Man, this guy's a glutton for punishment."
"His grit's no joke, I'll give him that."
The club members watching from the sidelines tossed out a remark each and drifted away. They'd finished their own training long ago and were already washed up and ready to head home.
"Jaehyuk! You okay?"
"Don't talk to me. Dying here."
James had just come out of the building with the locker room and wandered over.
"Heh heh, watching you work that hard puts me in a good mood somehow. You heading straight home after this?"
"......"
Was this guy's hearing busted or what?
I'd told him point-blank not to talk to me because I was exhausted.
"Hey, Asian."
And now another one showed up wanting to chat.
I tilted my head back a little to look, and it was one of the second-string running backs. What was his name again? Couldn't remember.
"Tired already?"
"What do you want."
The guy was a white guy like James — basically a slimmer version of James.
"I heard it from the head coach and Coach Sanders."
"Haah. Heard what, exactly."
Slim James crouched down and looked at me from above. His eyes were smoldering, like he was ready to throw a punch right then and there.
Come to think of it — this guy still hadn't taken off his gear, uniform included?
"They're saying you might get a shot at the starting lineup."
"What? Jaehyuk's going to start? Liam, is that for real?"
James, who'd been eavesdropping beside us, was startled. So his name was Liam, huh. I'd have to remember that.
Apparently Liam had watched Sanders training me separately and put two and two together.
It wasn't wrong, and I was lying there quietly minding my own business, but Liam just kept going.
"You can probably guess where this is headed, but I still don't acknowledge you. You're sloppy. Inconsistent, too. And you've never taken a real tackle, so you have no idea what a brutal battlefield this game actually is."
"So let's settle it right here."
Why do guys talk so much? We're both grown men here.
I happened to still be in my pads, so we could just sort out who was who with a quick one-on-one.
"You sure about that?"
At my words, Liam's eyes flared.
"That's my line. Hell, we can go right now if you want."
"Fine by me. Yo, James. You ref."
"Huh? Uh — no, I mean, sure."
I brushed myself off and stood up.
Time to sound him out.
I'd watched Liam run plenty during training, and that was exactly why I could be so sure of myself.
Who do you think you're messing with.
My résumé might've been short, but I fully intended to show him what a true running back looked like.
Liam, for his part, seemed more than happy to have a chance to face me, and walked straight out to the middle of the field. James and I exchanged a brief glance, then followed.
We stood facing each other on the field.
Tossing the ball to James, Liam explained the terms.
"Rules are simple. We each play offense and defense once. You know the basic rules by now, right? Like how when you're on defense, you can't grab or tackle a guy who doesn't have the ball."
"Yeah, I know that. But offense and defense of what?"
"We start from the same spot. Defense just has to keep offense from catching the ball, and offense has to shake the defender and make the catch. James can throw it."
Here I was, planning to show him what a real running back was.
...Isn't that a receiver's job?
Still, I didn't think I'd lose.
If anything, in this kind of duel, I was even more confident.
"You two are seriously doing this?"
"Why."
"Students are watching."
At James's words I turned to look, and sure enough, students who hadn't headed home yet were gathered around watching us. And among them I spotted a familiar face.
"Why isn't she home yet? What's she even doing."
It was my little sister, Eunbi.
She came to watch my training every day, but this was the first time she'd stuck around this long.
"Hey, Asian runt. Scared?"
"Scared of you? Bring it, you punk. Let me show you the power of an Asian."
I smirked and set my stance.
Naturally, Liam took offense and I took defense.
"Go!"
James bellowed from a distance.
The moment the word left his mouth, Liam exploded off the ground.
"Hup!"
His initial burst was pretty solid.
Not on my level, but against that kind of explosiveness, most guys would struggle just to keep up.
But.
Ssssss—
The moment the dark red line appeared, he never stood a chance.
Not the red line, but this alone was more than enough to run him down.
Fwack!
He tried to change direction at the last instant — I read it in a heartbeat. He'd even thrown in a double fake to muddy the waters, but against my Gift, it was all wasted motion.
Heh.
Maybe he caught me laughing, because Liam's face froze.
Then, right on cue—
Fweee—
The ball came spiraling in.
I was already moving, and I swatted it away with my fingertips.
Ting!
With a crisp crack, the ball caromed off and dropped limply to the ground.
"So that's 1–0."
"......"
Liam stared at the fallen ball in silence. Before long he lifted his head and looked me dead in the eye.
"Damn freak of nature."
"What was that?"
"This isn't over. My turn on defense now."
Ohhh.
Watching Liam refuse to buckle, I gave him a round of applause.
It felt strange to say this about myself, but the Gift was just flat-out broken.
Especially in a one-on-one — no tangled bodies, no cascading variables — where it was nearly overwhelming. I was confident I could beat even Barry Sanders if we squared off again right now.
"Again!"
I tossed the ball back to James, and the next duel was ready in seconds.
This time, I was on offense.
Catching a pass honestly wasn't my strength, but getting past a man and leaving him in the dust? That I could do.
"Come on, Liam!"
"Liaaaam! Fighting!"
Then, from the bench, came the voices of a pack of girls.
They'd been quiet this whole time, but the moment the guy in front of them started losing, out came the cheers. So this punk was popular, huh?
Flash!
My eyes flared wide.
Now I had one more reason to give it everything I had.
"I'm going to crush you."
"......"
At my words, Liam's expression hardened into dead seriousness. And with that, the second duel began.
Tap!
One fake forward.
He flinched and tipped his upper body back, just slightly.
But my lower half was already driving the other way.
My hips — my core — moved first, and my legs chased after, completing the change of direction in a single breath.
At the same instant, the dark red line pulsed, kicking my speed into gear.
Pababak!
Caught in the fake, and already too slow to match me in a straight footrace, Liam couldn't follow.
Which left a lane open, wide as day.
Fweee—
The ball floated down on cue.
Ting!
It glanced off my fingertips and dropped.
"......"
"......"
Liam and I stared at each other, struck dumb. The cheering squad, which had been squealing through the whole duel, went bone-chillingly silent at the same moment.
"......Listen. If you're serious about football, you need to practice catching, too. Being a running back doesn't mean you just get handed the ball every play."
Taking coaching advice from this guy, of all people.
Utterly humiliating.
And so the score stood at 1–1.
We ran six more duels after that, and in the end I took it 5–3, a blowout on paper.
Granted, I could've won them all — the three points I handed over were purely because I fumbled the catches.
"Agh, that stings. You've got one hell of a body on you."
"Hah... hah... hah..."
Liam was gasping for air.
Eight sprints in a row would wear anyone out, I suppose.
I was a little winded myself, but the dark red line had carried me through it just fine.
Yeah. Never underestimate raw physicality.
To be completely honest, I was far faster — but he kept playing the body, leaning into me, and that made it dangerous. On the last rep he'd barely grazed me and I nearly went down from it.
"Hah... you're... a monster..."
Around the fourth duel, the bloodlust had gradually drained from Liam's eyes, and by now he was looking at me with something closer to pure awe.
"You ready to acknowledge me now?"
"Answer me honestly. You've played football before. That's a lie if I've ever heard one."
"If I'd played, I'd have beaten you 8–0."
He remembered my sloppy dropped catches, apparently, and shut his mouth.
Ssssss.
I was still catching my breath when the black line suddenly began writing.
[Analysis Complete: Liam Hughes]
[Position Aptitude: Running Back (C), Edge Rusher (A)]
[Center of gravity is excessively shifted forward. Assessed as a bad habit formed over long experience as a running back.]
And now what, exactly?
So it analyzes opposing players now, too?
Not just weaknesses — it even shows position aptitude. Wasn't this completely broken?
But Edge Rusher? Isn't that a defensive position?
About a week into the sport, I'd picked up the fundamentals.
Enough to have a rough idea of the positions, anyway.
Edge Rusher was one of the most aggressive roles on the defense — the hunters who stalked the quarterback himself. They lined up on the edge, slipped past or powered through the blocking wall, and went for the throat of the field general in the pocket.
The Gift didn't lie, so odds were this guy was better suited to edge rushing than to playing running back.
"Hey, why are you so dead set on running back anyway?"
"Because it's all I've ever played. Since I was a kid."
"No — look at your frame. Honestly, I'll grant you're fast for your size. But a guy like me comes along, and you get picked clean like this. Exactly like just now."
At my words, Liam looked like he was thinking hard.
Agh. That face. Now I couldn't just leave it alone.
"Look, it's rich coming from a football rookie like me, but you'd be better off at any position besides running back."
"My body grew suddenly, that's all. And it's not like I never tried switching. The performance just wasn't there — not like at running back."
"Have you ever tried edge rusher?"
"Obviously. With my build and my abilities, it's the most natural fit for me."
"And it didn't go well, huh?"
"No. It didn't."
That was probably because of that weakness of his. Facing him firsthand, I could feel it — he was big and heavy, and whether he knew it or not, he leaned his weight forward trying to force speed out of himself.
"I figured it out just now, sparring with you. Your center of gravity is way too far forward."
"What did you say?"
"Isn't that the same habit that came out when you tried edge rusher? With your weight pitched forward like that, your tackles all end up in a straight line, predictable and one-note. That's why they never landed."
Was that right? I honestly didn't know.
I was just trusting the Gift and running my mouth.
"What would you even know—"
"Whatever, forget it. You saw it yourself out there — running back, I'm a step ahead, end of story. So what are you gonna do now?"
James, who'd only just caught up, tilted his head at our conversation, clearly lost. Ignoring the both of them, I stripped off my helmet and the rest of my pads.
I didn't particularly feel like persuading anyone.
Why should I go out of my way? That's a hassle.
"Hey. Come over here and help me get this off."
"Jaehyuk! Ask nicely when you want a favor!"
The next day.
Liam, who hadn't slept a wink, found himself replaying the duel with Jaehyuk all through his morning classes.
The overwhelming speed. The razor-quick change of direction. And a field of vision far wider than he'd ever expected.
So everything he's shown so far wasn't a fluke after all.
Jaehyuk looked bafflingly lost in practice, but step onto a live field and he became a different man. The competitive type, then — the kind who only came alive when something was on the line.
Either way, Liam admitted it without reserve.
Jaehyuk was faster than him, and far better suited to the running back position.
What had thrown Liam into turmoil was something else — the subject that had come up after the duel ended.
"Edge rusher, huh......"
Every coach he'd ever had, every head coach — and Liam himself — had all believed his body was built for the edge.
And yet the results had been failure. He had never once produced anything as an edge rusher.
He trusted his speed and strength, but he could neither slip past the linemen nor overpower them. When luck let him through, an errant, off-target tackle was always there to crush him again.
He'd given edge rusher roughly a month and seen no hope in it. In the end, he'd come crawling back to running back.
Rrrring!
Class was over. Time for club activities.
But Liam stayed glued to his seat, sunk in his thoughts, until a few of the girls drifted over.
"Liam, are you okay?"
"Is it because of yesterday?"
Liam Hughes.
Jaehyuk had dubbed him Slim James, but he was actually quite the handsome one. His popularity went without saying — and on top of that, he was a nice guy with genuinely good manners.
"I'm fine. Thank you for worrying about me. My skill simply fell short, that's all — so I'll just have to work even harder from here."
"Liam! Don't push yourself too hard! We'll be cheering for you no matter what!"
Liam nodded at the girls and rose from his seat.
His heart was still a tangled mess inside.
But he wanted to test it.
Was what Kim Jaehyuk said actually true?
He said my center of gravity is shifted too far forward.
Come to think of it, he'd been a fullback.
Not a running back who wove spin moves and juke moves and fancy footwork — a straight-ahead bruiser who just drove forward and bowled people over.
Maybe the habit had grown out of exactly that.
An edge rusher had to slice through opposing linemen with quickness and craft, reading the quarterback's movement to time the tackle.
It was, without question, a terrible fit for his current habits.
But if he fixed the habit — would it come together?
Creeeak—
"Hm?"
Liam was walking to the locker room, lost in thought, when he spotted someone.
Barry Sanders — the head coach himself.
"......Coach."
"Hm? What is it, Hughes?"
Liam swallowed dryly.
Then blurted it all out in one breath.
"Would you let me change positions?"
"Change positions? Out of nowhere? To what?"
Truthfully, he still wasn't sure.
But time was short, and if he was going to try, sooner was better than later. And if it didn't work out, he could always slink back to running back, same as before.
"Edge rusher. I want to play defense."