Page 3 of Playing for Keeps
CAMERON
After multiple close calls, more than a few penalties that nearly cost us the game, and a few injuries on both sides of the field, I couldn’t be more pleased that it was over, and we had come out victorious. The tension was high between us and the Legends, not because we were enemies, but because we had something to prove, and they knew it. Though, as I knew we would, we fought and proved that even with a fresh coach and new plays, we were a team that would never allow anyone to defeat us on our home turf. It didn’t matter that we won by seven points; a win was a win, and we snagged it with blood, sweat, and determination.
Returning to the locker room, the team cheered, congratulating not just one another but the coaches for their exceptional leadership. This marked the beginning of a new era for our team, a fresh start with endless possibilities. We just needed to keep this momentum, this energy, for it wasn’t just the playoffs we aimed for. We had something, a connected team and coaching staff, which in our world wasn’t something that always happened.
Giving my best friend, our kicker, Austin Cobain, a hard hand slap followed by a hug, we both grinned as we stood before ourlockers. It was then that the coach entered the room, and the cheering exploded. We knew it was a team effort. We took pride in our performances, but anyone who’s played a sport knows leadership is the backbone of any great team. Coach Marshall stepped into shoes that we all had doubts he could fill, and yet he exceeded our expectations right from the start. He missed not a single step in calls and challenges and proved to everyone he was what we were missing: fresh ideas and an eye for the game.
He stepped into the center of the room, clapping and lowering his head to us with a slow turn as though to thank us for our work. I slowly sat on my bench in front of my locker and began to take off my gear as the room gradually fell silent, each player with their attention fixed on Coach Marshall. He grinned more with a nod of his head, and this look in his eyes as though he was about to tear up. I could only imagine how he felt, vindicated? Relief perhaps? He cleared his throat, glanced back at his coach, and then slowly scanned around the room.
“I had this planned speech to give when we won, because I knew we would.” He paused as the team cheered once more. Waiting until the room was silent again, he continued. “Though I realized as the clock chimed down and the game ended, my words weren’t good enough. They wouldn’t reflect to you, every one of you, how this moment will forever be the most important I’ve ever had.” He paused. “Just don’t tell my wife and daughter that.” He joked, and the team and I let out chuckles. We knew he had a wife and daughter, though we had never met them. The coach was big on keeping his professional life and private life as separate as possible, one of the first things he declared when he took over the team.
“This is not only a win for our team but a win for our city. We were branded as outcasts, and I knew it was because of me, my arrival. A team that has settled into a balanced structure would be thrown into chaos by the change. Yet, what we did tonightwas proof to everyone that there is nothing this team can’t do. Not one person won this game. We won this together. We came together as not only a team but a family.” With a grin and nod, each team member and I agreed, with his short pause. “I’ve worked my entire life to get to this place, to work with the best there is in this sport, and I want to thank you all for allowing me and welcoming me. It’s truly an honor to be your coach and to be home. This win is the beginning, and we will continue with one kick ass season.”
Instantly, the calmness and emotional room erupted in what could only be described as barbaric yells and cheers. We had won many games before, yet this one felt different. “Now, get ready...” the coach continued, “Easton, keep that shirt on,” he teased our right tackle, “reporters will be in shortly.” Turning, he made his way to his office, the other coach following.
“I gotta say, man,” Austin spoke as he leaned forward, taking his cleats off, “I’m pretty impressed he didn’t send us straight into the shit.”
“He showed promise during practice,” I added, Austin, with a shrug as he sat upright. Austin was close with our last coach; the two seemed to share a father-son bond more than any other member on the team. I knew Austin would be one of the hardest to accept Coach Marshall. He had even been the one to give the most pushback during practice, so it was nice to hear his praise, even if it was somewhat indirect.
“Let’s see if he can carry it to the next game,” Austin added with a quick stand and turn to place his shoes into his locker.
“Tonight, it’s going down.” Both Austin and I looked up to Easton as he approached, of course, dressed in just his pants. Easton was the troublemaker of the team, the one who always pushed the limits with the press and flirted with just about every woman he met. He was also my younger brother.
“What’s going down?” I asked with an exhale as I stood and pulled off my jersey.
“Party at Peyton’s.” Peyton was the team Quarterback, and one of the most chilled guys you could ever meet. I knew he would throw a party for the win, and though typically I would have jumped at the thought and knew it was good to keep the team’s spirit up, hell, I had even already warned Lana I’d probably go out after the game, even though I had become less than interested. I was tired, sore, and, as lame as it may sound, bed sounded more appealing. I turned to my brother to say no, but my words were quickly stopped before they could even be spoken.
“Hell no, you’re not bailing.” Easton snapped.
“Nah, he’s not bailing.” Austin chimed in as he sat on his bench with a grin up at me.
“Two against one, bro.” I chuckled at Easton’s comment and knew I should have known better than to go up against them both. I tilted my head as though I was fighting giving up when they knew, I knew, I had no chance to rebut and get out of it. As I started to confirm, the doors to the locker room tore open and in rushed the clutter of reporters, a small group making a straight line for us.
“Well?” Austin asked as he tossed his socks into the bottom of his locker and turned toward me.
“Bro?” Easton added.
“I’m in,” I answered just as the reporters reached us, Easton with a turn in their direction and a wide grin on his face.
“If it isn’t my favorite little reporter from the Sandusky Journal,” Easton spoke with a flirtatious tone. “Is that a new blouse?” He asked with a smirk and wink, Austin and I both chuckled.
“Outstanding game tonight, guys,” an older man quickly inserted. “How are the three musketeers feeling about the win?”I exhaled with the nickname, the three musketeers. It had been given to us years ago because the three of us were hardly ever seen without one another. During practice, on the sidelines, in interviews, and even during leisure time.
“How do we feel about winning?” Austin asked with that ‘what the hell’ tone.
“It’s a great feeling for not just the team but the city, and for that we’re pretty proud.” I quickly answered, always the rational one of the three. Austin and Easton both nodded in agreement. I put on my best grin and played the part that was needed, even though this was the part of playing the game I hated the most.
After showering and dressing, we arrived at the party in good spirits, though I promised myself it would be an early night. Peyton lived on a private drive, his mansion surrounded by trees atop a hill that overlooked a lake that stretched into the next county. Cars lined the street, people stood in front of the house, and the music could be heard clearly as we pulled up and parked on the street. Security stationed at the end of the drive to ensure the press didn’t get through, the last thing any of us needed was one of the players getting caught up in an unfavorable picture. Easton, Austin, and I walked up the curved driveway and into the house, where Peyton himself immediately welcomed us.
“Glad you all made it.” Each one of us gave a hard hand slap and hug bump before he told us to enjoy ourselves and make ourselves at home, an act I knew my brother would do regardless. We barely moved into the main room of the house when a small group of four women approached us, smiles on their faces and dressed to kill.
“Admit it, you’re glad you came,” Easton whispered in my ear as he moved to one of the women, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and walking off without a look back. Austin, with his smooth stride, walked off with one of the women without a word.I chuckled and hated to admit, as I stood before the remaining two women, he was right.
“Offer you a drink, ladies?” Both giggled, me with a step between them, my arms around their shoulders as they wrapped their arms around my back. Let the party begin, I thought.
CHAPTER 5
HANNAH
