Page 80 of Surrender
“Anytime I can get out of training and see you, I’m all over it,” Camden says with a playful punch on the shoulder. “And it’s for a great cause, which is really cool.”
Tanner elbows me. “He’s trying to sound so mature and noble, but the creep was sexting his wife the entire time on the train. So embarrassing.” Tanner rolls his eyes dramatically like he didn’t just jump into my arms in the middle of a football pitch a minute ago.
Booker shakes his head at the two of them. “I was more mature than both of them as an infant.”
I clap Booker on the back and tease, “That’s not a huge achievement.”
Tanner stretches his arms out wide, clearly not the least bit put off by our jokes. “So, how is today going to go? Kids bloody love me, so all of you should prepare to be totally outshined.”
I smile and shake my head. “Well, we’re going to keep it nice and easy because they just got out of school, so they’re probably a bit knackered. Basically, we’ll each get sectioned off with a group of about ten kids. Two boys teams and two girls teams. We have five- to seven-year-olds, so just play some fun games and easy drills. No scrimmaging or anything competitive. The point of today is to have fun, and I asked you guys here because no one knows how to have a laugh better than you lot.”
“Too bloody right!” Camden states, pulling a piece of paper out of the pocket of his Tiro trousers. “I have the best games in mind.”
Tanner’s face falls. “You prepared?”
“That’s what Gareth’s email said to do.” Camden laughs heartily. “Plus, I’ve never coached kids before. I needed to read up on some ideas.”
“Shit!” Tanner mumbles, turning accusatory eyes at me. “I didn’t see an email!”
“I texted you to check your email, Tanner,” Booker chastises with a heavy sigh.
“I only read part of your text. You’re a wordy wanker. Who has time to read all of that?” Tanner grumbles and moves closer to Camden. “Share your notes with me, Cam.”
“No!” Camden jerks his paper back. “You were just bragging about outshining all of us. I’m not giving away my hard work.”
Tanner pins Camden with a serious look. “It’s for the kids, broseph. You should share.”
“You’re one to talk!” Camden exclaims. “You made an art form out of the Bacon Sandwich Rule! You licked stuff you hated just because you didn’t want me to have it!”
Tanner puts his hands on his hips. “This is for the kids!” he repeats, slowly moving closer to Camden’s paper with his hand outstretched.
Camden rolls his eyes. “God, why are you like this?”
Camden hands over the paper and Tanner begins scrolling through the list at lightning speed. “It’s a gift.”
Camden and Tanner each take one of the boys teams while Booker and I take the girls teams. The four of us divide into our own sections marked off on the pitch. The plan is to start with some fun games before diving into drills.
Several suits file into the sideline accompanied by Kid Kickers staff members who are there to answer questions about the daily running of the facility. I am here to be the headliner. Same goes for my brothers. Our positions in the sport of football give us the power to really make a difference, and that’s what we’re all here for today.
The little girls are all giggling and messing about, so I blow my whistle. Their wide eyes snap to mine curiously. Most of them don’t have a clue who I am, which makes things a lot easier. The older kids would have been too star-struck to perform appropriately for the potential sponsors, so we opted for younger groups today.
“I want everyone to take a football and form a line,” I state, grabbing the bag of balls and tipping it upside down to empty.
The girls flounce over with their swishing ponytails, bright-coloured socks, and shin pads. A few showed up without guards on, but our facility has a supply on hand for them.
I direct a couple of girls where to stand. The others begin to fall in line, but one girl stands back from the pack, frowning at the others who are fighting over various balls.
I squat down next to the little brunette. “Are you okay there, kid?”
She nods, but the puzzled look to her brows goes nowhere. “These are called soccer balls, too, right?”
She blinks her big brown eyes at me. The adorably serious expression lifts the corners of my mouth. “In some parts of the world, yes.”
She nods her head. “Do they play soccer in America?”
“Yes, they do,” I answer with a smile. “They call it soccer and we call it football, but it’s the same sport.”
She chews on the tip of her thumb and mumbles, “That’s what I was afraid of. I’m not sure I should be playing this.”
