Ryan
The whistle blew, but it sounded like it was underwater.
I dropped back into the pocket, my vision blurring at the edges as a sharp, rhythmic throb hammered behind my eyes. The afternoon sun felt entirely too hot against the back of my neck, yet beneath my pads, my skin was covered in a cold, shivering sweat.
"Fitzgerald! Watch the blind side!" Tyler yelled from the offensive line.
Before the warning could register in my sluggish brain, a defensive lineman blew past the tackle. A solid two hundred and fifty pounds of muscle slammed directly into my ribs, driving me hard into the turf.
The impact knocked the remaining air out of my lungs. For a terrifying five seconds, I couldn't breathe. I lay flat on my back, staring up at the blinding blue sky, my chest heaving as a violent, ra
