"And if a guy just leaves me in the open," Barnes says, "I know it's a trap, because if something leaves, something's coming."
'Keep going, keep going'
A half-hour before practice, the bus stops across the street from the school. Barnes, the towering captain, and his three teammates exit and make their way up a slight hill. The head coach drives by in a white car and beeps the horn hello.
In the locker room, painted in the team colors, hangs the thick smell of sweat. Damp uniform pieces rest from hooks, limp from practice the day before. A sign nearby reads: "None of us is as strong as all of us."
Barnes turns on the fan to freshen the air. He quickly changes into team-colored workout gear, and lifts weights with Monastra as his spotter. Barnes bench-presses 185 pounds in five sets of 15, his zone music pumping in his ears.
As he nears the end of his third set, his sweaty face grimaces, his back arches, and his abs contract as he hisses, pushing through. "Keep going, keep going," Monastra urges, girding the bar. Barnes yells in a battle cry as his teammates chew from a box of soft pretzels, talk, laugh, or stroll in late.
"You keep trying to kill me before practice," Barnes tells Monastra, hunched over on the bench.
"And somehow you keep coming back," the coach deadpans.
Eventually a few teammates follow Barnes' lead.
The clock winds down. Fifteen minutes to practice.
"Come on, y'all," Barnes chides. "Get dressed."
His teammates scurry, tossing their warm-up gear on the floor, and transform into an armor of pads, helmets, and cleats.
Outside, the sky opens and rain comes down. Before the head coach blows his whistle, Barnes is the first player on the field.
A gallery of 25 photos of Deion Barnes
is available at
http://go.philly.com/deion
Contact staff writer Kia Gregory
at 215-854-2601 or kgregory@phillynews.com.
