Page 4 of Coach's Pet

The defensive coordinator runs another drill, and I stand back, watching the players. This is my first year at Legend Prep, and it will be my last. My job here as head coach is temporary, and I’m fine with that. Dealing with rich assholes and their offspring isn’t what I dreamed of when I retired from the NFL last year.

A friend of mine has this position full-time, but he’s taken a year-long sabbatical to stay at home with his wife and new baby. When Coach Mayson first asked me to cover for him, I was surprised, but the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. Mayson's wife had a really difficult pregnancy, and their daughter was born two months early. Since then, he hasn’t left their side, but he didn’t want to risk losing his good-paying job. He also needs to deliver a win in their division to keep it next year.

When Mayson called me, I knew I had to step up. He was one of the best trainers and coaches I had before I was drafted, and I owed my career to him. He and I share a coaching style, and I already knew his playbook. It was the same one he used to make me run.

“How are we looking, Coach Bill?” I ask the defensive coordinator. “Will they be ready for Friday?”

“Yes, sir.” Bill is about thirty years older than me, but it’s not about age on the football field. It’s about rank.

“Good man.” I nod at him and then grab the whistle from around my neck. After I blow on it twice in quick succession, I cup my hands around my mouth. “Bring it in, boys.” When the kid on the track turns around, I shake my head. “Not you, O’Doyle!”

I wait for the rest of the team to come over and take a knee. Once they are all listening, I talk about the plays we're going to run on Friday and that everyone should be rested up. It’s the first game of the season, and I need a win. Hell, I need a win every Friday until the season is over. For Mayson to keep his job I need things to go as smoothly as possible in his absence.

“I’m going to end practice early today so you guys can get some rest. The pep rally is tomorrow afternoon, so make sure you wear your jerseys.”

I do my best to give them a pep talk and then I tell the guys to hit the showers. I even wave for O’Doyle to go in with them, and he acts like I’ve cut his prison sentence in half.

I tell the other coaches I'll clean up since I know they’ve all got families to get home to. There’s no one waiting for me back at my rental house, so I grab the equipment and carry it into the gym. It’s been a few weeks since school started, and I think we’re all starting to find our rhythm. For me, it’s a lot of alone time, but I don’t hate it. At least they didn't ask me to teach a class. I’ve got my own office, and I manage the football team, but that’s all I’ve been hired to do to cover for Mayson. Someone else is taking care of his classes, and that’s one of the reasons I agreed to do this job.

I’m sure I could figure something out, but I’m not qualified to be a teacher. Nor do I want to deal with kids I can’t yell at to run laps. I’m honestly not sure how to get through to people otherwise.

When I go into the gym, I’m surprised to see people there, but then I remember that this is the first time since I started that I’ve ended practice before dark.

There’s a guy with his arm in a cast standing next to a trampoline, and when I look at what he’s doing, I have to hide my smirk.

One thing Mayson failed to tell me was that the school's mascot was a beaver. I’m sure he didn’t want to hear the jokes he’d already heard a thousand times but come on. What kind of school has a fucking beaver as a mascot?

The school mascot is doing its best to bounce on the trampoline and extend their arms in the air. I’ve been inside one of those suits before, and they are no joke. It’s hot as fuck inside there, and they are heavy. My school’s mascot was an eagle, and the wings were a fucking nightmare. As the guy with the cast continues to count off, the beaver flails and then falls down on the trampoline.

I chuckle as I put the equipment back in the closet and lock the door.

“Coach?” I hear someone say from behind me, and I turn around to see the guy with the broken arm standing there. “Hey, can I get your help for a second? We need a spotter.”

“Sure.” I’m used to people asking me to lift heavy things or grab the cereal box on the top shelf at the grocery store.

“I’m Bennett, by the way.” He waves a hand at the mascot that is still lying flat on the small trampoline. “And this is our new Bucky.”

The person sticks up an arm and attempts to wave it before it falls back to the trampoline. I have to bite back a laugh.

“What happened to the old one?” I raise a brow, and Bennett holds up his broken hand. “I see.”

“I think Bucky is scared they are going to fall. So I thought having someone nearby might give them confidence.”

I bend down toward the fallen beaver. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Bucky is under strict instructions not to speak while in uniform,” Bennett says.

I look up at him and see he’s completely serious. I guess they take their mascot as seriously as they do their football. All right then.

Turning back to the mascot, I hold out my hand. “Come on, let’s get you on your feet.”

I’m surprised when I pull them to a standing position that they are so short. Surely they’d want someone with some height for the stunts they have to do? Maybe it doesn’t matter, but clearly this person is having trouble getting it done.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” I ask for the second time.

I can hear the person in the costume let out a frustrated growl before nodding.

“Great,” Bennett calls. “Now this time I want you to jump on the trampoline and touch your toes.” The beaver’s shoulders sag, but they move into position.

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