Nineteen
Austin
I’m gathering my s**t to head outside for practice when my phone rings. Seeing a number that’s not programed in, I try to remember the area codes of all the schools I reached out to.
Sliding my thumb over the screen, I answer, “Austin Bailey.”
“Austin, this is d**k Freeman from USC. How are you?”
I fall back into my chair, my heart nearly beating out of my chest. “I’m good. Thank you.”
“Good to hear. So, an acquaintance of yours dropped your resume on my desk. You’re doing great things up there in Alaska. Not exactly easy to make a winning team with your limitations in weather and practice time.”
“Well, we do tend to have thicker blood than you lucky people down in the lower forty-eight.”
He laughs. Thank God he has a sense of humor. “True. True. I went to Iceland o
