Page 45 of Mr. Irrelevant
If you’d have told me four years ago that I’d be the offensive coordinator at Kent State University, I’d have said you were insane. When I got the call from Head Coach Donovan asking if I’d like to come on to help his sophomore quarterback, I thought it was a prank. But it wasn’t, and here I am, coaching at the Mid-American Conference Championship Game.
To be honest, I stumbled into the OC position completely by accident after our last one was fired for several different violations, including illegal betting. I was working strictly with the quarterbacks at the time, but was moved up while they went through the interviewprocess. In the end, my performance spoke for itself, and they offered me the job. I’m still in my first year, but I’d say things are going pretty well, considering we’re about four seconds and one complete pass away from winning a title.
Jordan calls out his cadence, and as soon as the ball is snapped, the entire stadium goes so quiet you could hear a pin drop. I clench my jaw tightly, spinning the giant diamond ring around on my finger like I always do when I get nervous. I’m sure Maddox didn’t realize when he gave it to me that it would serve as a way to channel my anxious energy on the field, but I know he loves the fact that a part of him is with me while I’m out here.
The play develops perfectly, our entire line hitting textbook blocks and giving the receivers plenty of time to run their routes. Jordan’s main target takes off like a rocket, cuts toward the middle of the field, and slows just slightly several yards outside the end zone. I suck in a giant gasp when I see that he’s wide open, watching as the ball sails through the air and lands directly in his hands. With only one man to beat, Marshall pulls an epic spin move, fakes the safety right out of his cleats, and breaks the plane for the touchdown.
The crowd erupts, their deafening cheers filling the air so loudly that I swear it makes my brain rattle. But even in the midst of it, I can’t move. I can barely breathe as I watch our entire sideline run onto the field in celebration. Blue and yellow confetti falls from the sky, fluttering down to the turf and creating the most beautifulsight. Tears fill my eyes, sheer happiness and pride running through me as I take it all in.
This win was a collective one, with hours of hard work from every man and woman who had a hand in the Golden Flashes football program this year. But I can’t stop myself from thinking of my own personal journey in this moment. It wasn’t long ago that I had all but given up, rejection after rejection wearing me thin until I had put so much doubt in myself that I resigned to doing something that never would’ve fulfilled me.
I’m not saying that owning the Renegades is a bad gig. My dad is having the time of his life, especially with the shiny new Super Bowl ring he’s sporting these days. But he was right that day in his office—it was never my dream. This is. And I’m making the most of it with the support of my loving husband and the family we’ve created.
“Nice work, Coach Dane!” Coach Donovan shouts over the noise, his chest puffed out proudly. An ear-to-ear grin stretches across his face, which is a rare occurrence in any type of setting. He’s known as a certified hard-ass, and he’s taught me so much about the game and myself over the last four seasons. I’ll be forever grateful for the opportunities he’s given me and the trust he’s shown by putting the offense in my hands.
“You, too!” I reply, just as a giant cooler of Gatorade is dumped over his head, soaking me in the process. I laugh loudly, our players jumping up and down around us as they celebrate.
Feeling the missing piece of the puzzle, I turn, finding Maddox in the bleachers at the fifty-yard line.He cheers loudly, pointing right at me. My face lights up, giggling at Bentley’s gummy smile as he kicks his feet excitedly in his father’s arms. He’s not even a year old, but I can already tell by the way he holds the football that he’s going to be an amazing quarterback one day. Maddox claims that he gets it from him, but everybody knows that particular technique came from me.
It seems like a lifetime has passed since our moonlit practices. We’ve faced plenty of adversity along the way, but it was all worth it to be living our dreams today. The Renegades brought a Lombardi to the city of Cleveland, Maddox is a Super Bowl MVP, and now we’re adding a MAC championship to our family trophy case.
It’s been the most amazing ride. And to think none of it would’ve happened if I hadn’t asked Mr. Irrelevant to meet me at midnight.
