Page 5 of Going for Two

By the time the film was over, a tightness had settled in my chest. The sky had faded into an inky black. It was well past a reasonable time to still be in the facility, but I had one more stop I wanted to make tonight to complete this twisted idea of therapy I was trying to give myself.

There weren’t many cars on the roads this late at night as I drove toward the stadium. When I turned off the interstate onto Lake Shore Drive, I felt the tightness in my chest free—only a little—at the sight of the stadium butting right up to Lake Michigan. The lights were off and the parking lots around it were empty.

I found the switches for the stadium lights and threw them on before making my way out to the field. To some, seeing an NFL stadium completely empty and without life might give off an eerie feel. To me, it waspeaceful.

I’d sacrificed so many parts of my life to achieve all I had in my career thus far, but there was a piece of me that felt like it still wasn’t enough. I hadn’t doneenough.

My devotion to my craft had ended a relationship—even though that relationship was bound to crash and burn eventually. It had taken up most of my free time to enjoy much else in life besides chasing the ultimate dream I had laid out for myself from a young age.

This job was a privilege. For many people, this was more than just a sport. It was a national pastime. Families shared traditions with their favorite teams. They looked up to their favorite players as idols. Thanksgivings and Christmases were had with the games of the day playing in the background.

I didn’t take any of that lightly.

I was entering a quest this season to figure out how to fulfill my potential as a player without driving myself crazy with the standard I was asking of myself. However, I knew none of the success I wanted would be achievable if I didn’t consider the person I was as well.

I understood that holding myself to such a standard could be a miserable place to live because I could be setting myself up for failure. But I wouldn’t accept anything less than my best this season, and that started with getting myself in the best physical and mental shape possible to lead this team to a championship.

I couldn’t allow any outside distractions—like the talk shows—to get to me this year. I had a mission to accomplish and there would be very little that would stop me.

Chapter 3

Lottie

“Your office is right in here.” The owner of the Bobcats, Gary Martinez, pushed open a door in the training room and flipped the lights on.

I stared at the modern office with floor to ceiling windows for a wall and looked out onto the practice field. The cabinets along the back wall were black and the carpet had subtle hints of navy and red, the Bobcats’ colors. A TV hung on the wall directly across from my desk and I even had a window to look out into the training room.

“I can’t thank you enough for this opportunity.” I reached out to shake Gary’s hand.

“When I interviewed you for this job, I knew you were the perfect choice and not just a convenient quick fix for losing Roger.” A familiar zing of pride filled my chest. “I’m sure some of the early birds will start rolling in soon, so I’ll leave you to get settled in. Don’t hesitate to give me a ring if you need anything. I’m real excited to have you here, Lottie.”

Gary left me to a completely empty training room without a soul in sight.

This was peace.

The facility had every modality I could possibly need to help a player when they sustained an injury: infrared lights, cold and hot tubs, ultrasound, shockwave therapy, among others. I was in the middle of admiring the anti-gravity treadmill when the door opened and the first person of the day walked in. Hewore a Bobcats quarter zip and had a backpack slung over one shoulder.

“You must be the new physical therapist,” he greeted.

“Charlotte Thompson.” I walked over to shake the man’s hand. I noticed his quarter zip had his name and title stitched on the left side—Ezekiel Williams, Head Athletic Trainer. “But you can call me Lottie. I’ll answer to either.”

“I’m Zeke. I run the athletic training side. Excited to work with you. I know we’ll be working closely together. I went ahead and created a file of the players I think you’ll be working with most of the time.” Zeke unlocked the smaller office next to mine that all the athletic training staff shared. He set his bag down on one of the desks and pulled out a thick folder.

“Thank you,” I told him as I took the folder and flipped it open.

A photo of Nolan Hill stared up at me with handwritten notes on his medical history next to it.

“You’ll mostly be working with Nolan. He’s two seasons off of a left knee reconstructive surgery on his ACL. He’s the coaching staff’s priority for us as last season he didn’t seem comfortable yet on his knee. We believe he hasn’t rehabbed that knee enough for him to feel full stability on the field. The coaches don’t want to worry about that problem this year.”

Deep brown eyes looked up at me from the folder. I took in his close-cropped, curly hair, clean face, and the small wrinkles by the corners of his eyes. He was handsome in the conventional sense and perfect to be considered as the face of a franchise.

“You may also work some with Derek Allen, one of our starting tight ends. He’s coming off of a strained hamstring from last year due to chronic tightness in his back. There are a few others on that list that have ongoing issues, which we thought you’d be the best to serve them while we help manage the normal aches and pains that come up during the season.”

“This is perfect.” I gave Zeke a smile. “This is more in depth than the files that Gary gave me last week. So, I’m extremely grateful.”

I turned to head back into my office but stopped short when I heard Zeke clear his throat.

“I also wanted to warn you about Nolan”—Zeke paused— “he’s grown exceptionally … hostile these past few seasons. So don’t be offended if he’s not all sunshine and rainbows.”

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