Page 106 of I Blame the Club

Guilt needles my stomach as I stare at the blushing rookie, his beetroot face only adding to the regret taking over me. I’ve never had a problem getting results but somewhere along the way my method of attaining those goals became cold and impersonal.

Until Nico, I only ever thought about strategies and maximizing efficiency.

But now I’m starting to care.

Clearing my throat, I cast a glance around the room and note the quiet determination of the players around me. All of the boys this season have shown nothing but commitment and dedication at each and every practice. Based on skillset alone, most of them wouldn’t make it onto the field to play, but when individual effort is taken into consideration, they all deserve to wear a Taber Tigers jersey.

“Go get the rest of the team.” Gritting my teeth, I give Preston a nod, “I would like to say a few words to everyone.”

He jumps to his feet and rushes off. Within minutes, the team has clustered around the centre of the performance room, sweat-soaked bodies and weary faces looking at me curiously. Wes breaks through the wall of lacrosse players, approaching me with his usual dimpled smile.

“Should I be concerned you called for a team meeting?” He lowers his voice, coming to a stop beside me, “If this is about the other day…”

“It’s not.” I roll my eyes, “But thank you for the reminder.”

“Hey, anytime.” Wes grins and claps his hands together, “Alright everyone, listen up! Coach Mo would like to say a few words so unless you want to run sprints for the last ten minutes of practice, I recommend giving him your utmost attention.”

I shoot a glance at the co-captain, “Didn’t have you pegged for a sprint hater, Wes.”

He throws me a wink, “I’m not. But they are.”

Shaking my head, I tamp down a laugh and step forward. The quiet chatter immediately falls silent, Wes’ threat and my presence intimidating enough for the players to press pause on their conversations. I clear my throat, wishing I didn't suddenly feel uncomfortable. Most people would rather crawl out of their skin than make a public speech, but for me, it's the words I’m about to say that have me uncharacteristically nervous.

Making eye contact with Preston, who looks significantly less red than he did five minutes ago, I feel my resolve solidify when he gives me a weak smile.

“It has come to my attention that my constructive criticism is often just that. Criticism.” I pause, moving my gaze from one player to another, “I helped the Tigers become provincial champions five years ago and we continued that winning streak until we achieved the label of undefeated.”

Cheers go round the group but they quickly fade when they see my frown, “Until this year, the only thing I cared about was bringing home the championship banner. I didn’t care how many bridges I had to burn, how much criticism I had to deliver, I did what needed to be done to achieve the results.”

The performance room falls deathly quiet, anxious faces staring back at me. My eyes rake through the crowd, fruitlessly searching for the one person who isn’t in attendance.

“But thanks to your co-captains, I’ve come to realize that you can achieve results and have fun. You can hand out praise and not impair a player’s ability to achieve their personal best.”

I turn to Wes, who is watching me with wide eyes, “Consider this my official apology, Captain. I have knocked you and your partner since day one but now I see that it was my perspective that was skewed, not your leadership techniques.”

Taking a deep breath, I turn back to face the crowd, “Delivering praise does not come easily to me, but you have myword that moving forward, I will do my best to provide positive feedback in addition to constructive criticism.”

I pause, meeting Preston’s gaze with a slight smile, “Well, only when it’s deserved of course."

Wes lets out a hoot, “That last shot was meant for you, Hunter.”

I laugh with the rest of the team, the energy and camaraderie seeping back into the room as tired teammates laugh and jostle with one another. Any sense of discomfort dissipates as I cast my eyes over their smiling faces.

“It has been a privilege coaching this team. Keep up the good work and we may bring home another championship banner this year.”

The team breaks into cheers and a few of the players whistle their approval. My chest feels lighter as I step back and let Wes have the spotlight, my father’s ever-present disappointment lifting from my shoulders as I watch my players disperse among the performance room.

My players. My team.

My lips pull into a smile as a newfound sense of freedom descends. For the first time in a long time, I know what path the future holds.

I know what path Iwantthe future to hold.

All that’s left to do is lean forward and take it.

“If I'd known you were that good at public speaking, I would have offered up my captain title after the first practice.” Wes shakes his head, eyes crinkling at the corners, “That was incredible.”

I grin, “It’s all about preparation, Williams. You should try it sometime.”

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