Page 26 of Game Changer
“Do you want to go to the NFL?”
Jesus. This is the worst interrogation of my life.
“Usedto be,” I correct, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. “I don’t play anymore, but thank you.”
The kids’ faces drop, but before the punch to the gut can sink in, Mark says, “He’s here to watch you guys play today, and maybe, if you’re lucky, he’ll have some pointers to give. Drills. Let’s go.” Mark jerks his head for me to follow, and, together, we walk to the opposite side of the field, allowing the kids to race ahead. “They can be blunt.”
“You don’t say?”
He laughs. “They’re really great once you get to know them.”
“How old are they?”
“Thirteen. Right in their prime.”
“So, the worst is what you mean.”
Mark grins wider. “Oh, come on. Don’t you remember middle school? When we were all awkward and trying to adjust to our new voices after our balls finally dropped?”
“You know, I can’t say I do. My brain probably did me a solid and blacked those years out.”
Mark blows his whistle, getting the kids’ attention again. “All right, Ethan’s going to take over defensive line drills. Offense, you’re with me.”
My eyes bug out of my head.“Excuse me?”I thought I’d be watching today, not fucking coaching. This isn’t my job. And why is Ronnie on the opposite side of the field mean-mugging me? Is that supposed to be intimidating?
“What? You can’t help? Don’t act like you don’t know how to do drills. We used to practice that shit in our sleep. Just tell them what to do. All the props you need are behind us by the bleachers.”
Mark is a sly motherfucker.
“You’re going to pay for this,” I say, but his back is already facing me as he walks away.
“Next round at Happy Endings is on me!” he calls over his shoulder.
Suddenly, a group of kids surround me, waiting for instructions, and it feels so fucking wrong to have them look up to me right now. What do I have to offer them? I’m not good enough to be a coach toanyone, let alone these eager kids who are jumping from foot to foot like they’re so excited they can’t sit still.
My chest clenches at the sight.
I don’t want to do this, but I’m also not going to break these kids’ hearts. I know how to do drills. I’ve done them thousands of times. If I have to suck it up for an hour, then so be it. After today, I never have to come back again.
“Mark!” I call, then watch his head whip around. “I need to borrow an offensive player.”
Something akin to pride lines his features before he dips his chin and sends over a boy named Sam. They look so small in their helmets, and yet the determination and willpower to play is oozing off them. I canfeeltheir passion, and we haven’t even started yet.
Walking over to the bleachers, I swipe a sweat towel before I return to them. “All right, I’m going to try and keep this simple. The goal of a defensive lineman is to get to the quarterback, right?” They all nod, watching when I turn Sam to face me and drop into stance, instructing Sam to do the same. “The key to achieving this is to ensure you’re low and letting your shoulder drop.” I put the towel behind Sam’s heel and glance over at the kids. “You want to find that gap, and by staying low and dropping that shoulder . . .” I spring into action, ripping the towel from the ground behind Sam before I jog into the backfield. “It allows you to find that gap,” I say once I’m finished. “Easy enough?”
All the boys nod enthusiastically.
“Who wants to go first?”
When all their hands shoot up, I start to understand what Mark means. I forgot why I fell in love with football all those years ago, but after ten minutes of being here, I’m starting to remember.
~
“Jake needs to work on his stance.” I ramble while we pick up the cones. “And Devonte? Your offensive player? He’s your star in the group. The speed and agility on that kid . . .” I shake my head in disbelief. “He’s going to be good. Really good.”
Mark hums a happy tune, and shoves one of the footballs into a mesh sack. “So, same time next week?”
My lips form a thin line while I contemplate my answer. I can’t lie and say I didn’t enjoy myself today. There’s something satisfying about watching a kid use your advice and nail the following drill or play after a few attempts. But to take on a coaching job? One I’m not even sure exists? That’s a lot of pressure, and it’s one I don’t know if I want to take on yet.
