Fantasy League by Mike Lupica Page A

segment as they went around the league, maybe setting him up with questions.
    At one point she asked him what he thought about fans and the media hating on the Bulldogs the way they did, especially since L.A. had waited twenty years for a team after the Rams had left. Not saying who she was, not saying who her grandfather and uncle were.
    She called herself “Football Girl.”
    Charlie said: “I know people are always talking about how great the weather is in L.A. Maybe that’s why we seem to have more fair-weather fans than any other place in America.”
    Anna gave him a fist pump on that one.
    Then he talked a little about Tom Pinkett, how happy he was to have him on the Bulldogs, not saying he was the one who’d told Joe Warren about Pinkett when Pinkett was still on the bench in Cincinnati. He and Anna had agreed that would remain their secret.
    â€œThat’s all we’d need,” Anna had said, “people thinking Gramps is getting advice from a twelve-year-old.”
    Before long Charlie was going through some of the fantasy picks he expected to make in the early rounds of his drafts, which defenses he had his eye on. Then it was over, Charlie amazed at how fast the time had gone, Anna telling him the show had timed out at just under thirty minutes.
    The last thing he’d done was talk about some surprise fantasy picks he might have for the opening week of the season.
    â€œBut if you want to find out what those surprises are,” he said, “you really are going to have to tune in to the next
Charlie Show
.”
    Anna grabbed the microphone back at that point, like even on his show
she
had to get the last word in.
    â€œThink of missing a show like missing a class,” she said. “One that’s going to be taught by the Fantasy King.”
    â€œSo says Football Girl, who thinks she’s a queen,” Charlie said. “Talk to you next week, everybody.”
    They had done the show sitting on the floor of Charlie’s room, his laptop between them. Anna closed the laptop now. Took off her headset. Charlie did the same. They stared at each other for a moment, neither one of them saying anything. Then Anna Bretton high-fived Charlie so hard she nearly knocked him over on his back.
    â€œHuge!” she said.

Nine
    THE CULVER CITY CARDINALS PLAYED their opener against the Venice Bears the day before the Bulldogs were going to open their season at home against the 49ers.
    Jarrod Benedict threw for one touchdown and Kevin Fallon ran for another while Venice only crossed midfield twice in the whole game—the Cardinals’ defense was that good. Charlie played on both the kickoff and punt teams, got some good plays in at outside linebacker for the last two minutes, and even knocked down a pass intended for Venice’s big tight end on the second-to-last play of the game.
    He spent the rest of the day at Memorial Field thinking of himself as an assistant coach, standing next to Coach Dayley. He had even identified a couple of Venice blitzes before they happened, so sure that one blitz was coming from Jarrod’s blind side that Coach Dayley ran out on the field before the ball was snapped and asked for a time-out.
    Coach changed the pass play he’d called to a draw, Venice stayed in the same defense, and Kevin Fallon ran straight up the middle, blowing past the attacking Venice defense. He ended up gaining twenty yards.
    â€œKid,” Coach Dayley said after the play, “you see things on the field that make me think I ought to have my sunglasses checked.” Then before Charlie could say anything Coach put a hand on his arm, stopping him before he started, and said, “I know, I know, you’re just paying attention.”
    â€œIt’s true,” Charlie said.
    â€œEverybody pays attention, Charlie. Your paying attention is just a little different.”
    It was a good day. The team won and Charlie made a couple of good calls for