"Find someone, anyone," I muttered.

Were my standards so low?

Houses lined with metal grills. Dirt path crunched under my black boots. Our mission was recruiting for our football team. That was not going to be easy. I was not talking about soccer either, no, it was American Football.

The two soursop trees that I walked under gave me a nice ten yard distance of shade. The neighborhood of Berryhill was a place of farmers and laborers. I lived in Hallondare, a specific region in Berryhill that was close by, but filled with what we defined as professionals. People tended to separate the two, so they called Hallendare its own community.

Such arguments, I cared little about. People were the same whether he was a farmer or supervisor at a financial institution. I moved within the center of the road. It was patchy and littered with irregular holes, while I walked along it looking for my next target like I was going through my reads.

The sport started recently, yet it was still a young sport here. Three years since its inception, the intake of the sport was low. I was a player of the Berry Hill Assassins and right now, I needed a player, or in this case I needed players.

Air cut through the oblique space of each house. I advanced across the dirt track, cars were sparse. The rosy wooden houses to the concrete structures fitted with zinc hats, quite pompous in their status. The finer sway of the forest in the distance kept the cold hands of the wind from arresting us.

The fields of farmers were small here. You would see small patches of land behind each house. Lines of potatoes, coconuts trees and bananas graced the land. Personal delves into earth rewarded them aplenty. There were larger ones on the outskirts, but such were in the hands of a bigger men with deeper pockets and more obscure faces.

Living in Jamaica taught me the more you know the better your existence was among the populace. I knew a lot and here I was looking like I knew nothing at all. One thing I desired was to figure out how to recruit people to an unknown sport they had no love for.

We only had nine players. Six more were needed to make up the fifteen required for us to continue the Jamaican Gridiron Trials Cup.

I looked up at two guys against the wall of a beige concrete house.

The guys glanced at me and looked away, the taller one said something, soliciting a soundless laugh from the other one. Hill told me to recruit younger guys just out of high school, for they would be better to mold. The youngest that can be recruited to an active team was sixteen. I sighed, for the young boys laughed at the idea of playing the sport.

I straightened up and stepped to them. The taller one shook his head and slumped against the wall.

"Yo, sup Tallman?" I said.

"Wha' gwan Donavan?" the taller one asked.

"Not sure though, I was wondering how is life?"

He raised his eyebrow, while the shorter one traded a glance between me and him. The taller one smiled. "Good still, you can't give me a money though, rich man?"

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

They knew I lived in Hallendare, so this was a normal question. "I ain't rich," I replied.

They laughed.

I got to the point. "The Assassins have a tryout, I was wondering if you are done thinking about it."

"Doooog...you come back with that again?"

Yes, I had. I asserted. "Yes, we can really go far if we had a team, we need new members to qualify."

He kissed his teeth. The shorter dude gave me a disgusted glare. "No one wants to join your gay ass team." The shorter one growled low at me.

Tallman nudged his friend in the side. A mischievous smile rested on his face. "Yo Arden, him is not even the leader of the team and him doing all the work."

Hill was the leader of the team. I was an important member, so this was why he gave me this task. Not like Hill can do everything and I was happy to help anyways. "Hill is at practice, besides we all have to do our part. Football is about teamwork and all of us contributing as a whole to the goal," I retorted.

They looked a bit startled, but Arden relaxed. He stepped forward. "You nuh win no trophies to be talking like that."

I frowned. They were right. Our team had a well-known losing record. "But we will if we get a team."

"If." Arden stressed as Tallman laughed. I twisted my lips in contempt.

"Yo dog, better you just give up man youth. I hear those bigger teams are getting some big money. Onnu have any money, you don't, how are you guys going to compete?" Tallman asked.

I already knew that. No reminder was needed. "We work hard and beat them," I said.

They laughed harder. Anger fueled the clenching of my jaw.

This was annoying. I wanted to help, but this was ridiculous. Every time I came out here, I got rejected. Those guys had so much free time, yet here they lingered like dropped ackee spoiling on the ground. Actually, there was an ackee tree nearby. The fruit was breaking the mold of the soft shell laid within.

It calmed me, briefly. I looked back at these two fools. If I had the money I would not be going after these idiots. I would have transferred Edward Chamberlain or my friend Douglas right now. Talented players were what I desired not a bunch of nobodies who had no appreciation for the sport.

Their faces pissed me off. The laughter pissed me off even more, because it came from a place of ignorance. They thought they were above me.

"Hey, Donovan right..." Arden moved out more into the dirt track. "The only football I want to play is." He made a motion as if he was dribbling a ball like Ronaldinho. "The beautiful game."

I shook my head saying, "What a way the game beautiful, you guys are here sitting doing nothing. I am doing something-"

"Pointless." Arden interrupted. Tallman laughed. Shouts echoed over the laughter, Arden's eyes were piercing at something behind me. I turned slightly, but the figure shoot pass.

I twirled, almost tripping myself watching the man. Black shirt, blue jeans, his brown shoes looked familiar.

A flat square object wedged under his shoulder, yet he swung it in tandem with his swift steps. He fired off into a speck against the heavily vegetated landscape. He passed one house, made it to the next house with his long legs in the mere fraction of a second.

We all stared, heavy noises guided us to at least three men running far behind the first runner. They were not going to catch him in my opinion. He was too fast.

"Bloodfire, the man gone a lead..." Arden uttered to himself.

"Did you see who it was?" Tallman asked.

"No suh he was wearing 'kerchief over him jaw. Eyes alone mi see." Arden answered.

Though, those shoes, where have I seen those before? In the split second it passed my gaze something about it reminded me of something. Not sure I remember what that was, I narrowed my eyes as the three men chasing him slowed to a halt by the second house.

That guy was fast. That speed, I wanted it.

Mini-Glossary

Wha' Gwan - means 'What is going on?'

Dog - means 'friend', 'brother' (mostly used by males in reference to each other)