Page 21 of The Keeper
Me: This is ridiculous. How can she talk to us about our strategy for the season YESTERDAY and then quit today?
Piper: I know. I hope she enjoys the weather
I laugh. Coach Walkerhatesthe rain. But just as quickly, I feel bad for feeling ill will towards her. As frustrating as this is, I guess you have to take the next step for you when it comes along. Not everything can wait for convenient timing.
I try to relax the rest of the evening, but I end up taking too long of a jog, too hot of a shower, and get very little sleep. My body is restless. My mind is restless. And when I drag myself out of bed on Monday morning to get ready for practice, I feel like I have a hangover. Or at least, what I assume a hangover would feel like.
An email sent to the team at 3:30 this morning from Coach Johnson clarified that we would be meeting together in the athletic offices to ‘discuss Coach Walker’s departure and the new direction for our team.’
The only thing that alleviates my nerves about our meeting this morning is the text that pops up on my phone as I’m heading out the door, eating my pre-practice banana:
Mack: Morning beautiful. I was thinking about our second date. I’m putting the kibosh on Chuck-E-Cheese. How do you feel about the Atwater High School football game on Friday night?
Me: Only if you guarantee me an unlimited supply of M&Ms and popcorn
Mack: Well obviously
Me: Okay then count me in
Mack: Great. I might even try to sneak you behind the bleachers for a few minutes
Me: Oh Indy, you trying to put your sweet pre-pubescent moves on me?
Mack: Perhaps
Me: Well we have to be careful. I don’t want any rumors about us impacting my bid for Prom Queen
Mack: No worries there, sweetheart
My heart soars as I drive to practice. I’m pulling into the parking lot at the school when his last text comes through:
Mack: Heading into an important meeting so I won’t be able to chat much today. But I’ll call tonight to hash out details for Friday?
Me: Can’t wait
Mack: Me neither ;)
I smile and close out the screen, then chuck my phone into my duffle and practically float across the parking lot and into the building, allowing my excitement to wash over me for a few minutes.
When I reach the fourth floor, my excitement is replaced with trepidation. I find most of our team in the small banquet room just off the entryway. The chairs have all been lined up in rows to face the front, where I’m assuming Coach Johnson will be introducing our new coach. I drop down in a chair next to Piper and notice that everyone is whispering animatedly in little groups.
“What’s the deal?” I ask Piper, elbowing her lightly on the arm to get her attention.
“We found out who the new coach is!” she replies in a sing-song voice, and I can tell that she wants me to play the guessing game. Normally I would appease her, but my nerves are off the charts and I am definitely not in the mood.
“And?”
Before Piper can say anything, Ruth-Ann leans over her and quickly whispers, “Andy McIntosh!”
My jaw drops, my eyes going wide.
“Seriously?”
Ruth-Ann and Piper nod vigorously, huge smiles on their faces.
Andy McIntosh.
I definitely knew him. Well, knewabouthim. If memory serves, he was ranked the number one NCAA soccer player in the country about five years ago, got drafted his junior year to play for the Chicago Fire, and then shot his entire career to hell when he got into a car with a drunk driver and ripped apart his body. I think the rumor was that he was paralyzed in that accident, though, so I am blown away by the news.
