Page 65 of Necessary Roughness

“It’s good to see you too.” Tanner dropped into the chair in front of Steve’s desk and gestured at the bottle of pain reliever. “You feeling okay?”

“Just a headache. It’ll pass.” He grabbed the carafe out of the coffeemaker. “Want a cup?”

“No thanks. I’m good.”

Steve poured himself a cup of coffee, swallowed a couple of pills, and sat back in his chair.

“I was expecting that you might not come back this morning,” he said.

“You told me to be here.”

“I did.” His lips curved into a small smile. “It’s not easy to be without someone you love.” He let out a long breath. “I’ve noticed that you work your ass off. You don’t complain. You have looked for ways to contribute when I’ve seen guys that lasted a couple of days and ran back home to something without these kinds of hours. Here’s the thing.” He tapped on the tabletop with his finger. “If you don’t love this job and love football more than almost anything in life, you should get out now.”

“Do you have a family?”

“Yeah. My wife is incredible. I know how lucky I am. Most women turn and run. They’d like to see their husbands more than a few hours a week from July through mid-June each year. It’s tough to maintain any relationship when you’re working year-round and crazy hours. Any coach does it because it’s what they’ve worked toward since they were coaching their kid’s middle school team or whatever. We get a break during the league six-week vacation period. It sounds like a lot of time off to guys that make fifty thousand dollars a year and bust their asses in construction or whatever they’re doing, but they are at the birthday parties and preschool graduations and Christmas mornings. They’re watching their kids grow up.” Steve took a long swallow of coffee. “If you want to stay, I think you’ll be great. You have the fire. If you have other things and people you love in life, there’s no shame.”

“Are you firing me, Steve?”

“Hell no. I want you to stay, but it needs to be an informed decision.”

Tanner got to his feet and stuck out his hand to shake Steve’s. “Thank you for the opportunity. I think I would have been lucky to work for you in any capacity.”

Steve got to his feet. “This wasn’t the right time for you. Let’s keep in touch. You never know.”

“No, we sure don’t.” Tanner shook Steve’s hand again. “Thank you for everything.”

Half an hour later, Tanner had written a resignation letter, printed it off, and stuck it in an envelope. He asked the head coach’s administrative staff if he could have a few minutes of his time. The team was lifting, so the coach was taking care of things in his office for a little while before practice.

“Is this important?”

“I think so,” Tanner said.

“He’s got a few minutes right now,” his assistant said.

He was announced to Coach Peterson, who said, “You do realize I don’t typically meet one-on-one with assistant coaches.”

“Okay, then. How about I do this in writing?” He put the envelope with his resignation letter down on the coach’s desk. “I quit.”

“I never knew you were a quitter, Cole.”

“Actually, I’m not. This isn’t a good fit. I want to see the woman I love more than a few hours a week for ten and a half months a year. I love football, but it doesn’t consume me anymore like it did when I played. The adjustment isn’t easy, but I’m better for it. It would also be better for your team to have an assistant coach that will be an asset to your organization.”

“I thought you would be.”

“I thought so too. I was wrong.”

“Does Steve know?”

“I talked to him first.”

“You know, Cole, I had high hopes for you.” The coach steepled his fingers. “Have you called your girlfriend yet?”

“I know where to find her.” Tanner extended his hand across the desk. The head coach shook it. “Best of luck to you, Coach. Thank you for the opportunity.”

“Thank you. Keep in touch.”

“I thought you didn’t meet with assistant coaches.”

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