Page 89 of More Than A Game

Murphy:No, it doesn’t. We’ll figure out the takeout when we get home.

Sabrina:K.

Murphy:See you in a few.

Bash slams his locker shut. “I’m out, man.”

“Listen, I’m picking up Sabrina before I head home. Don’t order dinner without us.”

“Gotcha. It’s Monday. You know Nattie’s gonna want Chinese.”

Brady pops his head around the wall of lockers to see us. “She already texted. She wants Chinese.”

“Alright. I’ll be ten minutes behind you guys. Don’t order without us.” I grab my towel and shut my locker.

“Damn. That all it takes you, man? Nobody wants a one pump chump, Murph. Just sayin.”

I shove Bash’s shoulder as I head to the shower.

Giving him the finger as I walk away, I add, “At least the last girl in my bed wasn’t Train Wreck.”

“Fuck off, Murph,” he hollers as I walk away.

The normalcy of this conversation just helped lift a little of the weight off my shoulders ten times more than that joke of a practice did.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m showered, dressed, and knocking on Coach Barnett’s door. “Come in, Murphy.”

Coach Barnett is sitting behind his desk wearing his ever-present KU polo. Coach Foster, my linebacker coach, is leaning against the whiteboard next to him. Foster is in his late thirties and is the coach that tries to be everyone’s friend. He wants to help where he can. Our defensive coordinator, Coach Phillips, is seated on the chair across the room. Coach Phillips is a bit of a hard-ass. He evens out Foster. Coach Barnett points at the chair next to Phillips. “Take a seat, son. We need to talk to you.”

“Sorry, Coach.” I sit down on the edge of the seat. “I know I was a hard-ass at practice today.”

“You’re not here because you’re in trouble.” Coach Barnett leans forward, elbows against his desk, steepling his fingers before continuing, “Listen, Murphy, when we recruited you, we did so knowing we’d need to backfill the middle linebacker position once Jamie graduated. You were the heir apparent this year, whether you knew it or not. Jamie knew it. He knew he was grooming his replacement, and he thought you were the man for the job. I’m sorry to throw this at you now. I know you’re hurting. We all are. But we need you to step up and move into this position, starting tomorrow.”

I look from Coach Barnett to Coach Foster and Coach Phillips, unsure what I’m expecting to see. These men look like this is hurting them as much as it’s hurting me.

How am I supposed to fill Jamie’s shoes?

Coach Foster interrupts my thoughts, “You’re a leader on that field, Murphy. We need you to help lead this team through this tragedy. It’s not going to be easy, but you wouldn’t be sitting in that chair right now if we didn’t know you could do this. You’re going to be taking all the calls for the defense and leading the huddle on Saturday.”

“I don’t know what to say, Coach.” Holy shit. I wasn’t expecting this.

Coach Barnett opens his drawer and hands me a black playbook wristband. It’s one I recognize. “This is Jamie’s band, Murphy. We asked his parents for their permission to give it to you.”

It’s hard to hold back the tears stinging my eyes, and any man who says this wouldn’t destroy them is lying. My days of being the carefree freshman player, whose only burden on this team was worrying about myself, ended with this wristband being given to me. Now I’m responsible for the entire defense, ten other guys.

Guys who looked up to Jamie.

“Coach, I’m honored that you think I’m ready for this. I hope I don’t let you down.”

“You won’t, son. Now get out of here and be ready for practice tomorrow.”

Coach Barnett stands and offers me his hand.

A handshake has never felt more monumental in my life.

* * *

Okay, so it’s more like thirty minutes later when we make it back to the house. Nattie already texted Sabrina for our Chinese order. One of the things I’ve learned over the last year, especially since sharing a house with Natalie Sinclair, is that she might be tiny, but she’s vicious when she’s hangry.

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