Page 63 of Flagrant Foul
Enough to choke on.
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Sev Delorean
Myphonevibratesonmy nightstand, rattling loudly and waking me from a deep sleep. It’s early for so many messages to be coming through in quick succession, so I unplug my phone and sit up to see what’s happening. It's Coach.
Team meeting at 8 a.m. Urgent. All players to attend.
The rest of the messages are all from guys messaging privately to ask if I know what’s up, or confirmations in the group chat, letting Coach know they’re on their way.
It’s hard not to feel concerned. Coach is one of the most organized Type-A people I’ve ever met. Things run on a schedule around him, and that schedule doesn’t change unless something out of the ordinary has happened.
“Tee!” I yell, “Are you up? We’ve got to go.”
I drive. He rides shotgun.
I don’t put my hand on his thigh or let it slide between his legs. Obviously, I don’t do that because he’s not mine, and it would be really weird if I did.
The mood is somber when we get to the arena. We meet in one of the rooms usually used for press releases. Most of the guys have bed hair and look like they haven’t had nearly enough coffee.
I know how they feel.
We eye each other uneasily, checking with the players sitting closest to us to see if they know more about the situation than we do.
As soon as we’ve all taken a seat, Coach takes the floor. “I have some bad news,” he says without sugarcoating it.
The entire team collectively tenses. The last time Coach started a team meeting like this, it was to let us know that Ben’s wife, Liz, had been in a car crash. That was a bad day that only got worse. It was two years ago now, but in some ways, it feels like yesterday. I’m not the only one who remembers, who feels it. The entire team does.
“Kell went into labor a couple of hours after Bryce got home last night, and the baby was born early this morning.” No one is sure how to react. A baby being born is good news, but Kell was only thirty weeks along, and that isn’t great. “We don’t have a name for her yet,but she’s a little girl. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that she’s arrived early. Really early, and unfortunately, there were complications during the birth. Kell’s lost a lot of blood, and she was in surgery when I spoke to Bryce. The baby…” Coach’s voice cracks, and he takes a breath. “We’ll know more about how the baby is in the coming days.”
There’s a loud rumble of chairs being pushed back. We’re on our feet immediately. All of us are. A Blackeye is down, and we need to get to him.
Coach holds up a hand. “Wait. Wait. I need a minute. This won’t take long. I know we need to get to the hospital. I want to get down there too, believe me. I’ve drawn up a visitation roster, and I’ll send it to you when we’re done here. You know the drill.”
We do. We know it all too well. When Ben’s wife was in a coma, Coach’s roster saw to it that there was a group of four or five of us at the hospital with Ben around the clock.
We’ll do the same now for Bryce and his family.
“I know it’s the last thing we want to think about right now,” Coach continues, “but Lewis is out. I’ve had confirmation that he has a grade three MCL tear, and he needs surgery to repair it.”
It’s bad news for Lewis. It’s a terrible injury for any athlete to overcome, but for a man nearing the end of his career like Lewis is, it’s hard to see how he’ll come back from it.
“With the recovery time involved, he’ll be out for a couple of months at least. Bryce is…as you can imagine, he’s not in a good way…but when I spoke to him earlier, he was clear about what he wanted to happen. He said that even if Kell and the baby have the best possible recoveries, the baby will need to be in the NICU for weeks, if not months, and he’s not prepared to leave them until everyone’s home.” Coach pauses to let that sink in.
There’s another rumble. This time, it’s the low hum of voices of discontent and concern.
Coach silences us again. “I know it’s the worst possible timing, okay? I get that. But we’re flying to New York tomorrow, and we’re down a captain and an AC. We need to nominate and vote before we do anything else.”
Players talk quietly among themselves. Chairs shift and heads turn. I follow the line of their gazes, and to my surprise, I find that they all lead to me.
I look to Teddy.What’s happening?I ask with my eyes.
He gives me a wry nod without moving his head.It’s you,his eyes say.You’re our new captain.
I’m usually pretty good at understanding things he tells me wordlessly, but that makes no sense.
It can’t be me.I shoot back.I’m a mess.
