Page 22 of Ancient History

“Our new men’s soccer coach.” He studied me. Not sure what he was looking for. “You look like your picture. Shorter in person, though.”

“Uh, thank you?”

“I Googled you. Two years with the Nashville Troubadours. Top scorer in your first year. Impressive.”

“Thanks, man.”

“You decided to call it quits?”

“Wasn’t my choice.” Heat crept up my neck. I wished I had the power to scrub the internet. I kept my legs under the desk, out of sight.

Raleigh nodded gotcha and sat in the chair across from me. He kicked his legs up on my desk. “So what brings you back to Sourwood?”

“Coach Legrand was a mentor to me. We kept in touch over the years, and when he told me he was retiring, I thought about the chance to come back and coach the team I’d led to back-to-back victories as a player.” No harm in a little bragging. Something told me this guy did it often.

Raleigh took it in stride. “Surprised you wanted to leave the pro life behind entirely.”

I couldn’t tell if he was ragging on me or not. “You ever try going pro with football?”

He let out a deep laugh. “I didn’t have the goods. I got an invite to an open tryout, got the wind knocked out of me on the first play. It was then that I had an epiphany. I should get into coaching!”

I didn’t expect humility from him. His laughter filled the room and welcomed me to join in.

“Welcome aboard. Excited to work with you.” He held out his fist for a bump.

I breathed a sigh of relief. At least I didn’t have to deal with a dickhead co-worker.

“Have you met Chris Bergstrom yet?”

“We did a phone interview before I was offered the job.” Bergstrom was the athletics director for the Sourwood school district, overseeing all sports programs.

“He’s cool. He mostly stays out of your hair unless you make it to the regional playoffs. Then he gets more involved. I have a suspicion he gets a bonus if a Sourwood team wins a championship.”

“Do we?”

Raleigh let out a roar of laughter. “Oh, man. You’re funny. I’m gonna like working with you.”

The feeling appeared to be mutual. He seemed like a guy who liked to take the piss out of someone as a sign of friendship. And considering the other teacher I knew well at this school hated my guts, I could use all the friends I could get.

* * *

Raleighand I fell into a conversation rabbit hole while my players got dressed and left for the day. We shit-talked other schools we’d be playing, traded thoughts on different coaches in the area. Apparently, his ex-girlfriend ran off with the coach at our big football rival North Point High, so he wentoffon that guy and his franchise. Raleigh was a master of shit-talking. I laughed so hard my stomach tightened in glorious pain. When I looked at the clock, an hour had passed.

I was going to have a good time working with him.

He convinced me to grab a happy hour drink. He drove us in his big Jeep to Stone’s Throw Tavern. I tried using a fake ID there in high school, but the owner, this huge bear of a man, sniffed me out in a second. Nearly caused me to piss my pants.

I glanced at the upstairs loft in the bar, and the scary bear boss man was there working at the desk. I averted my gaze and hoped he didn’t remember me.

We grabbed a table by the window. A pretty waitress our age with heavy eyeliner, dirty blonde hair, and a don’t-fuck-with-me attitude took our drink orders.

“So any tips for teaching gym?” I asked jokingly.

“I know people like to shit on gym teachers, but we do help kids. There’s value in teaching kids how to compete, how to handle winning and losing.”

Huh. I didn’t give much thought to teaching gym, but he was making me reconsider.

Raleigh leaned closer, his eyes alive with opinions. “There are teachers at South Rock who think that sports are evil and anyone who likes sports is an idiot. I won’t name names, but stay away from the drama classroom.” He rolled his eyes as he sipped his beer. “But I believe athletics teaches kids self-confidence, discipline, and the value of betting on yourself.

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