Page 9 of The Way We Win

“I don’t know how much these kids have left in them today.” We’ve been working hard all week, and it’s almost 3 p.m.

I start camp early so we can end it before the heat gets too intense. Some coaches don’t mind if players vomit and get overheated, but it’s not my style. Dad never treated us that way.

“I’ll give him a call and get his ETA.” Zane takes out his phone, walking away from us.

“Did you see Lucas out there today?” Buddy’s eyes dance with excitement, and I swallow my annoyance. “We’ll be sitting pretty next year when Sinclair graduates.”

“He’s a talented kid.” I nod, ignoring the twist of loss in my stomach.

I’ve been coaching high school boys for seven years now. I’ve seen many good players graduate and move on to college. It’s a good thing; the way it should be.

There’s no reason for me to grieve as if my own son were leaving the nest. It’s not even my nest, dammit.

“Garrett said he can be here in ten. Rachel’s got the kids, and they’re just tracking down kittens.”

Miss Gina and her kittens. “She needs to get those cats fixed.”

“I think she loves her yearly batch of babies,” Zane says with a chuckle. “Or she loves having all the kids over to play with them.”

We walk over to join the team, and I hold up my hand to get the boys’ attention. “Take ten more. My brother Garrett’s on his way over, and we’ll run a few more plays so he can get a feel for D-line. I need you boys to show me some teamwork. Offense, you’re looking good. Keep it up.”

The boys are sweaty, but I see some of them getting excited at the prospect of Garrett Bradford watching them play. He’s a favorite, and I’d wanted him to join my coaching staff when he retired from professional ball.

Looks like I’ll be stuck with Buddy a while longer.

“You’ve gotthe makings of a championship team out there, Bro.” Garrett leans against the bar, sharing a beer with Logan, Zane, and me at Cooters & Shooters. “I saw some real talent on defense. They’re just green.”

“They’d better mature quick.” I take a sip of my beer. “I need twenty-two players ready to go in two weeks, and right now I only have eleven.”

“You’ve got more than that,” Garrett laughs, gripping my shoulder. “Take a breath. We got this.”

“O-line is top tier,” Logan announces. “Austin has really turned into a leader, and the boys like him. He has a good attitude, and he keeps calm under pressure. If he does well in college, he could go all the way to the pros.”

I take a drink, doing my best not to beam with pride. It’s bad enough I get accused of favoritism by some of the parents. I don’t even respond to them. They need to wake up. Like I wouldn’t put my best player at the top of the roster.

Nostalgia warms my chest when I remember his first camp three years ago. He was hungry and as clumsy as some of the boys out there today, but he was determined.

I could see he was a hard worker. Dylan said he’d been practicing every day leading up to camp, and when he made that first catch, the way Allie almost cried…

Clearing my throat, I distract my thoughts from her shining blue eyes, the way she looked at me like I was her hero. “Lucas Outlaw’s coming along. I expect he’ll be QB-1 next year.”

Logan nods. “He doesn’t have the natural talent that Austin has, but he’s enthusiastic.”

“They’re all green at this stage, but they’ll be ready to play by the end of next week.” Zane is always there to provide calm logic.

He’s come a long way from the broody, wounded loner who returned from Baltimore on crutches after a shocking injury forced him into retirement. He was hobbled and in a dark place for a while. We were all worried.

If it weren’t for Rachel and Edward, I’m not sure he would’ve seen the light. Edward’s special needs and interest in horses were the first step, then Rachel’s sunny disposition and healing hands broke through his anger.

Now they’re married, and he even smiles occasionally.

I glance over at him. “How are you feeling about Rome?”

“I’ll get him there.” Zane tilts his beer to the side, but he’s not smiling now.

Dad always said a good kicker can save a game, and he wasnever wrong. Not only that, I’ve been in games where the extra point cinched the win.

“Hey, Coach.” I recognize Austin’s voice. “I’m surprised you’re still standing. I’m about to pass out.”

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