Snowplows
There is a version of Andre Kearse's life where none of this happens. He was a track man who was talked into it by a coach who never let go. Instead: 161 yards. He calls his grandmother before every game and after every loss, which his teammates have stopped remarking on. It is a long way from Ashfork, Arizona, and he did not come the easy way.
Across three seasons: 4,717 yards from scrimmage, sixty-six touchdowns, fifty-one games. This is the best of them.
He is twenty-five. He says almost nothing and is listened to anyway. In another life he played the trombone well enough to be offered a scholarship for it.
The club is 0-5. Wendell Norwood is new.