Chris Hernandez lines up split out to the left in a two-wide-receiver bunch formation. His teammate, cornerback DeAndre Wright, jogs out opposite of him, tip-toeing the line of scrimmage. As the ball is snapped, Wright gives Hernandez a friendly jam, upsetting the timing of Hernadez's slant route and forcing Donovan Porterie to check-down to his running back.
Wright wins this round.
"DeAndre and (Glover Quin), they're probably the top two cornerbacks in our conference right now," Hernandez said. "I know it's made me a whole lot better because every time you go against them, you have to bring your A-game or they're going to make you look like a little kid."
In a year the Lobos desperately need Hernandez to fill the tremendous void left by former UNM receiver Marcus Smith, Hernandez appears to be rising to the occasion.
A Mayfield graduate, Hernandez epitomizes what it means to be a southern player. Down south, people approach football season with a devout sense of religiosity, he said.
"Southern football is all about pride and dedication," he said.
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After all, in the small city of Las Cruces, the closest it gets to all the glitz and glam of Hollywood is on Friday nights, when those lights are switched, the chinstraps are secured and the competitive juices flow.
Hernandez said that's the southern mantra, the mind-set he, his teammates and coaches had every time they came to Albuquerque to play one of the high schools.
"When we came down to (Albuquerque), we saw it as a war with the north," Hernandez said.
But now that Hernandez has swapped sides and assumed northern allegiance with the Lobos, he said nothing has changed except his newfound hatred of the color crimson.
"When I go down south, I hate that maroon," he said. "I hate those Aggies."
It's a love-hate relationship, because Hernandez has ex-teammates who are on the Aggie roster.
"Last year, I went up against one of my former teammates, Alex Bernard," he said. "I got my first start up there against him. It was pretty special."
With his southern roots tugging on one side of his shoulder pads and Lobo pride gnawing at the other, Hernandez said make no mistake about it - he embraces those cherry and silver colors that line the fabric of his jersey.
But one thing he learned while playing for Mayfield, the one thing that will never change, he said, is how he approaches his daily battles with Wright - with the same tenacity, dedication and pride of a southerner.
"I've had to run my routes a little tighter and faster," he said. "Because with (DeAndre), one inch could mean the difference between being covered and open."
And before Hernandez can go to war with TCU's cornerbacks or his ex-teammates down in the heart of the south, Hernandez must win the training camp battles.
He looks like he's doing it, too. Four plays after being blanketed by Wright, he ran 10 yards up, cut hard across the middle of the field, where safeties loom like sharks looking for blood, and snatched a Porterie pass while being bludgeoned by the safety.
He quickly popped back up, seemingly unshaken - ball in hand - and jogged back to the huddle.
"I think I've been coming out on top a little more lately," he said with a smile, Wright only feet away being interviewed by another reporter.
Hernandez added: "It hasn't always been that way, though."
