Page 11 of Risky Game

The team looked almost entirely like a different team when I arrived at the stadium last Thursday. I was hours late, after giving the tour to Ruby that took three times longer than it should have. It hadn’t been her fault. It’d been all mine. The more questions she asked about Amelia, the more she laughed and talked to me about what she did with Luke and Brittney… I’d been having so much fun talking with her, I’d almost forgotten I had practice at all until she’d gotten a notification on her Apple watch and asked me, “Don’t you need to get going?”

And then I’d arrived at the practice facility. The team was running plays, practicing, like they didn’t miss me for a second, and they’d looked perfect.

Not great for my ego. Because maybe the problem was me. But our early morning practice was the same, and we were winning this afternoon’s game easily. It was the last preseason game, and after struggling to win one and lost two others, this was what was going to have people thinking we could take another Super Bowl.

It was also the first time most of our starters were playing the majority of the game instead of the backups and the guys who’d still been competing for a roster spot. That only made it more impressive, though, because that meant Damien had thrown that pass against a D-line full of starters, and he wasn’t croaking like he’d done last week.

“Looking good, Butler.” I slapped his helmet as he jogged off the field, yanking off his chin straps. “Great catch.”

“Thanks. Team’s looking good today.”

I crossed my arms over my chest and readjusted the mouthpiece of my headset. “I suspect that has something to do with you?”

He wasn’t sure of me when I got the job. Hell, he was only a few years younger than me, and he’d had a lot of respect for the coach who retired. This past summer, when I laid out my vision for what I felt my role was and what I believed him to be, I’d hoped had changed that. I hadn’t been entirely sure until yesterday, and that was mostly because Dawson kept his mouth shut a lot. Didn’t speak up. Showed up, put in the work, talked to the few guys he was close with, and then left.

But the team talked, and I’d overheard more than one murmuring variations of, “Yo, Daws is right. This shit matters and we’re fucking it up…” or “I want Coach to be proud of us…”

Dawson, eagle-eye focused on the defense taking the field and lining up, shrugged. “You told me I was a leader. Figured there was no better time than to begin being one.”

“I appreciate it.”

He was a hard nut to crack. The guys who goofed off and acted like clowns and like this was all fun and games were easier to relate to. They were playing a game they loved, and it showed. Dawson played football like he was out for revenge. It made it harder to know where his head was, what his goals and motivations were, other than winning.

He smirked. “Don’t get a big head over it, Coach. I just didn’t want to look like a fool out there in a few weeks.”

“Rest assured, no big heads here yet.”

“Yeah, wait until the end of the season when everyone sees how miraculous we all are thanks to you.” He punched my shoulder and headed to the bench.

From Dawson, it was the biggest compliment I could get.

I refocused on the game and was thrilled when the rest of the game went smoothly. A couple dropped passes but no interceptions for Damien. No sacks. He finished the game looking like the rookie quarterback we’d need him to be if Cole’s ankle didn’t heal quickly, and by the time we got to the locker room, there were finally cheers and whoops and hollers full of praise instead of moaning.

“All right, all right. Listen up!” I took my place in the center of the locker room and surveyed the team.

My team.

“Yo, yo, yo! Coach is talking!” That came from behind me, and soon the room quieted, all eyes on me, fifty-three men in all manner of undressing.

“You all know the stress I feel this season, being one of the youngest coaches in the league and it being my first year head coaching. Gotta say, when I took this job, I thought the preseason would be a lot smoother than it has been. Maybe that’s my own cockiness and ignorance, but I think we can all agree it’s been a struggle, not what any of us have wanted to see or feel.”

There were murmurs of agreement, some shoulder slaps, and encouragements thrown out, but I wasn’t done.

“Until today. Today, every single one of you showed up, showed off the work you’ve been putting in, and I’m damn proud of you all. Damn proud not only to be your coach, but to be a part of this team.”

“That’s right! Coach! You’re one of us now!” Mason Yeets was in the background, fist-pumping the air, bringing his usual excitement to the team.

“Thanks, Yeets.” I chuckled. “Today’s game went exactly how I’m hoping the rest of them go. You were fantastic out there, and, Damien”—I pointed to our rookie QB—“proud of you most of all. You’re learning, listening, and it’s showing. Good job.”

He dipped his chin and was shaken by several other players slapping his shoulders. The room burst into encouragement and the young guy’s face broke out in an ear-splitting grin, his cheeks turning fire engine red.

“Go home and rest! Replay the good you did today, and we’ll be back here on Monday, proving once again that we’re the team to beat this season!”

“Yes! Steel on three!” Cole shouted it, threw his fist in the air, and the entire team made the room shake as they joined in.

As soon as the team broke out of their chant, the coaches and I left them to their space. Jacobi, the team’s offensive coordinator, was right on my heels. “You were right. We needed today.”

“Now we just have to keep them focused. Meet in my office in a half hour?”

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