Monday arrived in Clemson under a gray sky that seemed intentionally chosen to match the mood of the entire campus following the beating the team had suffered Saturday night at the hands of Florida State.
Wyatt walked toward his first class with his backpack slung over a single shoulder, noticing how even the students who normally greeted him with enthusiasm upon recognizing him as part of the football team now barely spared him a glance before moving on in silence.
"Good morning," he said to a couple of classmates sitting on the steps of the social sciences building, receiving nothing more than a nod in return, without any further comment.
The atmosphere inside the classroom wasn't much different, with most students speaking in low voices, as if simply mentioning the game's result could bring bad luck for the remaining matchups of the season.
"What a terrible game on Saturday," a guy sitting a couple of rows ahead of Wyatt commented to another student, completely unaware that one of the team's players was right behind him, hearing every word.
"Yeah, honestly, I thought they'd compete better, but they got crushed," the other student responded as he pulled his notebooks from his backpack, not lowering his voice much.
Wyatt felt a knot form in his stomach listening to those words, knowing they had every right to feel that way; the team truly had been humiliated in their own stadium in front of their own fans, and there was no way to sugarcoat that reality.
Throughout the entire class, Wyatt could barely concentrate on what the professor was explaining, his mind constantly occupied with memories of the bench on Saturday night, watching Tajh struggle while being unable to do anything to help him.
"Sterling," the professor called out at some point during the lecture, noticing that Wyatt had spent several minutes staring blankly at his notebook without writing a single thing. "Are you with us, or are you still at Memorial Stadium?"
A few discreet chuckles echoed throughout the room at the comment, forcing Wyatt to quickly straighten up in his seat, feeling the heat rise up his neck.
"Apologies, professor, I'm here now," he responded, trying to sound as normal as possible, though the truth was his head remained anchored to Saturday's bench.
The rest of the class passed in a similar fashion, with Wyatt pretending to take notes while mentally replaying every single play he had witnessed from the sideline, wondering if he could have changed anything had he been on the field instead of Tajh.
When the bell finally rang, marking the end of class, Wyatt was one of the first to leave the room, packing his things quickly, with no desire to stay and chat with anyone about the topic the entire campus seemed to have on their lips.
Leaving the building, he ran into Laquon, who was walking with his head down and his headphones on, lacking the energy that usually characterized him as he headed toward the next building.
"Hey, how's it going?" Wyatt asked, approaching him and patting his shoulder to get his attention.
"I've been better," Laquon responded, pulling out one of his earbuds. "Everyone at this university seems to have decided that Saturday was the end of the world."
"It kind of feels that way," Wyatt admitted as they both continued walking together toward the gym where the team facilities were located.
"The worst part is they have every right to be disappointed," Laquon continued with a sigh. "We were the number three team in the country, and they made us look like amateurs."
Wyatt didn't know what to say to that, so he simply nodded, knowing that any attempt to minimize what happened would sound hollow coming from someone who hadn't even been able to step onto the field during the game.
Upon arriving at the team facilities, the atmosphere didn't improve in the slightest; the hallways were completely silent, and the few players present avoided making much eye contact as they prepared for the afternoon practice session.
"It feels like a funeral in here," Sammy murmured, joining Wyatt and Laquon as they headed toward the locker room to change.
"Literally felt like walking into a wake," Laquon responded, trying to lighten the mood with humor, though even he didn't sound very convinced by his own joke.
Once everyone had changed into their practice gear, they headed out to the field, where Dabo was already waiting for them alongside the rest of the coaching staff, their serious expressions foreshadowing that this would be no easy practice.
"I want all of you to understand something before we begin," Dabo said once the entire team was gathered in front of him, forming a semicircle. "What happened on Saturday was a painful defeat, but it is not the end of our season."
None of the players dared to say anything as they listened to their coach speak, knowing that the words, no matter how motivational they tried to be, were not going to erase the 51-14 scoreboard that still weighed heavily on everyone.
"Today we are going to work hard, we are going to correct the mistakes we made, and we are going to start building our way back," Dabo continued, scanning each of the players present with his gaze. "But this is only going to work if every single one of you leaves Saturday's loss behind and focuses on what's ahead."
With those words, practice began, with Brent Venables leading defensive drills while the rest of the coaching staff handled the offense, focusing primarily on correcting the errors that had cost them so many turnovers during the previous game.
Wyatt, though he wasn't going to play the next matchup, didn't participate in practice as a starter either, limiting himself to observing and executing a few warm-up drills alongside the rest of the backup quarterbacks, while Tajh carried the full weight of the snaps with the first-team offense.
He could notice that Tajh looked different from how he normally behaved in practices, his body language showing a tension Wyatt had never seen before in the starting quarterback, who used to be the very picture of confidence on the field.
"Again," Tajh would say after every play that didn't turn out exactly how he wanted, demanding extra repetitions of himself even when the offensive coordinator had already given the order to move on to the next drill.
"Boyd, that's enough, let's keep moving," the coach told him on more than one occasion, but Tajh would simply nod and keep asking for one more rep, as if he were trying to erase each of Saturday's interceptions through pure repetition.
Wyatt watched all of this from one end of the field while waiting for his turn to run some warm-up drills, noticing how his teammates also exchanged worried glances every time Tajh insisted on repeating a play that had already gone well.
"He's pushing way too hard today," one of the backup receivers standing next to Wyatt commented, watching the scene with the same concern.
"I guess that's how he processes Saturday," Wyatt responded, unable to take his eyes off his teammate, who by that point had already taken double the reps of any other player on the field.
Practice continued for over two hours, with the sun beginning to dip behind the facilities while the players gradually completed their assigned drills, feeling the accumulated fatigue of a session that had felt heavier than usual, both physically and emotionally.
"Good work today," Dabo finally said, calling an end to the official practice. "I want you all resting well tonight; we keep at it tomorrow."
With those words, the team began to disperse little by little, the players heading toward the locker room in small groups, talking in low voices about the practice as they removed their protective gear.
Wyatt stayed on the field for a few extra minutes, picking up some cones that had been used during the warm-up drills, when he noticed that one player remained on the field even though official practice had already ended.
It was Tajh, who continued throwing passes to an makeshift receiver—none other than one of the team equipment assistants responsible for gathering the footballs—repeating the same short passing play over and over with a focus that brooked no distraction.
One by one, the rest of the players abandoned the field, heading toward the locker room until finally, only Tajh practicing his throws and Wyatt, who had remained standing near the bench watching the scene, were left, not knowing quite well whether he should approach or simply let him work in peace.
After a few more minutes, the assistant who had been helping Tajh finally excused himself, saying he had to take off, leaving him completely alone in the middle of the field with a football in his hands and his gaze lost toward the end zone.
It was at that moment that Wyatt decided to approach, walking slowly toward where Tajh was standing, who turned to see who it was upon hearing the footsteps.
"I thought everyone had left already," Tajh said, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his forearm as he watched Wyatt approach.
"Most people left, but I saw you were still out here and figured I'd stick around for a bit," Wyatt responded, stopping a couple of yards away.
Tajh let out a tired sigh, dropping to his knees on the field's turf, the football still held tightly between his hands while his gaze drifted to some indefinite point in front of him.
"Four turnovers, Wyatt," Tajh finally said, breaking the silence that had formed between them. "Four turnovers in a single game, and two of them were my interceptions."
"The game was lost as a whole team, not just because of you," Wyatt responded, sitting down on the turf across from his teammate as well.
"But I'm the starting quarterback, Wyatt. I'm the one who's supposed to lead this team, and in the most important game of the season, I just collapsed," Tajh continued, his voice heavy with a frustration he had clearly been bottling up since Saturday.
Wyatt didn't say anything for a moment, letting Tajh continue to vent, knowing that sometimes all someone needs is to be heard without being interrupted by unasked-for advice.
"All these years I've worked to become the best quarterback I can be, to pull this program forward, and on Saturday I felt like I ruined all of that in a single night in front of the whole country," Tajh followed, his eyes fixed on the turf.
"Tajh, a single game doesn't erase everything you've achieved," Wyatt finally said, his voice calm but firm. "I've seen the stats; I've watched the tape from your previous seasons. You are the best quarterback to come through this program in years."
"It didn't feel that way on Saturday," Tajh responded with a bitter laugh, devoid of any real humor.
"On Saturday, Florida State played the perfect game, Wyatt. Absolutely everything went right for them, and we made mistakes we don't normally make, but that doesn't mean you're solely responsible for what happened," Wyatt continued, seeking his teammate's gaze.
Tajh finally lifted his eyes to meet Wyatt's, noticing a sincerity in his words he hadn't expected to find coming from the freshman who hadn't even been able to play that game.
"You know, it's funny," Tajh said, a small smile forming on his face. "You were the one who got benched because of Dabo, and yet you're the one out here trying to make me feel better."
"Maybe that's exactly why I was able to see things from a different perspective," Wyatt responded, shrugging. "From the bench, I could see things that maybe you didn't notice being out on the field under so much pressure."
"Like what things?" Tajh asked, genuinely interested in hearing his teammate's perspective.
"Like the offensive line giving you very little time on several plays, forcing you to make rushed decisions, or how Florida State's defense simply played better than any defense we've faced this season," Wyatt explained, remembering every detail he had observed from the sideline.
Tajh listened intently to every word, feeling the weight he had been carrying on his shoulders since Saturday gradually begin to lighten a bit, knowing that someone else had noticed the factors that went beyond his own mistakes.
"Thanks, Wyatt," Tajh finally said with a sincerity he rarely showed anyone. "I needed to hear something like that."
"That's what being a team is for, right?" Wyatt responded, smiling faintly. "Besides, we still have a season ahead of us, and we're going to need our starting quarterback playing with confidence, not carrying the guilt of a single game."
Tajh nodded, feeling those words truly sink in a way the coaching staff's words during practice hadn't managed to do, finally standing up and extending a hand to Wyatt to help him up as well.
"You know, for a freshman, you've got a pretty good head on your shoulders," Tajh commented as they both began walking together toward the locker room, the sky now completely dark above them.
"Let's just say I had plenty of time to think sitting on that bench," Wyatt responded with a teasing smile, earning a genuine laugh from Tajh—the first one he had let out since Saturday night.
"Hey, Wyatt," Tajh said, stopping just before reaching the locker room entrance. "Next time Dabo punishes you, let me know ahead of time so I can avoid the same nightmare we lived on Saturday."
"Deal," Wyatt responded, laughing as they both finally entered the locker room, leaving behind an empty, silent field that just a few hours prior had witnessed the renewed determination of two players who, regardless of the circumstances, still believed in what this team could still achieve during the rest of the season.
Author thought
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