Page 81 of A Play For The Heart
He looks around, searching for someone. Suddenly, his eyes land on me. “Parker. Up here.” He gestures at the spot next to him.
I stand up from the chair I’m sitting on and stumble my way to the front of the room on my crutches. Coach Barrett places a hand on my shoulder, squeezing it.
“Parker here is the main reason we're playing the way we are.”
I swivel my head at him in disbelief.
Can he not see the crutches and boot?
I look around the room and half the team seems just as confused as I am. I lock eyes with Declan, who looks calm. He nods at me, then smiles. Somehow, he understands whatever Coach is saying. I shift my gaze towards Jack and Deon. Both look as sure in what’s happening as Declan. Finally, I focus my attention back on Coach, expecting an elaboration.
“Henry had two choices when he was injured. The easy one or the hard one. Henry chose the hard road. A road that makes this team better for it.”
I’m still confused as hell. Feeling all the eyeballs on me, I begin to sweat. The attention of the entire team causes my skin to crawl, and if I could bolt out of the room, I would. Unfortunately, in my current state, I wouldn’t make it far before I was dragged back.
“Does anyone know what takes a good team and transforms it into a great one?” Coach Barrett asks the room. No one answers the question, and the faces morph back to confusion. I swear he’s speaking a different language. “No one? A great team has a connection and a single common goal. Before the game today, y’all had a common goal. The Super Bowl. But you lacked connection. Henry is creating that connection. His effort on the sideline, cheering you on, and giving you advice is what will make you great. If every player has the same mindset as Henry, we’ll be unstoppable.”
He finishes his speech and walks out of the locker room, the other coaches following behind him. I stayed glued to my spot, regarding the other players around the room. It's eerily quiet. No one seems to know what to say.
Deon rises from his seat, instantly taking everyone’s attention from me. I sag in relief. Standing up here was bad enough, and then the attention from Coach Barrett’s speech only made my skin itch. It didn’t seem like much of a choice. I could sit in my anger and sadness, or I could do whatever I was capable of to help the team. It didn’t seem as big of a deal as Coach made it. I’m only focusing on what I can do instead of wallowing.
“He’s right,” Deon says, referring to Coach Barrett, “Not all of us would do what Henry did today. Cheering us on while he watches from the sideline. In a game he would certainly have played if he wasn’t injured.”
Deon peers over at me, inclining his head in respect. Two statements about my character from two people who are well-respected on the team have meaning. Other players hum their agreement, then shuffle towards the center of the room to huddle around me.
“If we all act,” Deon declares, “the way Henry has been, we’ll be a better team, better players. Hell, better people.”
I make eye contact with Jack, who is smiling at me, nodding his head in agreement. Looking around, I notice everyone is agreeing with him. I feel my cheeks heat and a burst of warmth blooms in my chest.
It feels almost like…pride.
In myself.
A feeling I haven’t had in so long, it's nearly foreign.
Deon yells a few more motivational words then the players run out of the locker room back towards the field. I wait for them all to shuffle out, then follow. Except for Declan, who lingers in the doorway, waiting for me.
I’m still unsure about the relationship between us, but I don’t hate him. He’s different than he was six months ago, and I could see myself being friends with the new version of Declan. Let bygones be bygones.
“Who do you want to be?” he asks, before turning and running towards the field.
I’m not entirely sure, but I’m starting to have an idea.
Ten. Nine. Eight. I watch as the time runs down on the scoreboard. Seven. Six. Five. Only moments until the game is over. Four. Three. Two. The crowd begins to roar, the sound shaking the stadium. One.
The buzzer sounds and the sideline goes wild. Players launch themselves at each other, hugging, and cheering. Older players run to the sidelines, to their families. They grab their children, laughing and smiling as the confetti falls. I watch as my teammates celebrate the win against Boston. The crowd cheers, and players cry tears of joy and joke with each other.
I stand there, watching it all. It’s an out-of-body experience. At Notre Dame, we had played in bowl games and even made it to the championship semi-finals, but the energy then is nothing compared to now.
It’s not even the win, it’s the response. Families cheering on their players. Wives screaming on the sideline in joy. Children giggling and the excitement on everyone’s faces. The support and happiness radiating is overwhelming. Consuming.
The realization hits me like I semi-truck.
This is what I want.
I want to support and be supported. I want to be happy in the way the players are around me. Not just because they won the game. That’s part of it, but not the whole. Half the bliss comes from celebrating with the people you love.
Like Sawyer.
