Page 76 of Hard Count
My eyes drift to the clock on my computer screen. Drew and the team are deep into their morning practice right now. I’ve known about their secret since the first week but I’ve kept my distance. I didn’t want to intrude. She was so hesitant about moving back. I wanted her to feel like she could pave her own way here.
It’s probably another mistake on my part. I tighten the reins on her when she should’ve had freedom and I give her space when she needs me most. It’s always been a delicate balance with her that I’ve never figured out.
I check the clock one more time. My hands itch to grab my hat and coat and go watch the last half of their practice. Fuck it. I slam my laptop shut and put my hat on. I take one last sip of my coffee before walking out of my office and down to the practice field.
Turning Drew away in my office months ago wasn’t something I wanted to do but at the time I felt like it was the best choice I could make. Graduating needed to be her priority. I’ve seen my daughter run herself into the ground studying game film. It becomes an obsession. I didn’t want that for her. I wanted her to have fun but also focus on her future.
The cool December air smacks my face as soon as I hit the sidewalk. Whistles blow and shouts fill the distance between me and the field, making me grin. She must really be putting those boys through it this morning.
I find a seat on the empty bleachers near the twenty yard line. A few of the defensive players surround Drew as she explains something she has written on her clipboard. Once the defense is in position on the line of scrimmage, Nash calls one of our passing plays.
Trey pushes past the offensive line and touches Nash before he’s able to get the ball off. I’m glad to see he only tagged him and didn’t take him down. He's a good football player but he has a terrible attitude. If he had fought with any other player, I wouldn’t have hesitated to make the call to bench him or cut him from the team. But I can't punish one without the other. It wasn't something I was willing to do to Nash.
Maybe it was because Drew scouted him for Newhouse or maybe it was my fatherly instincts kicking in. I've always felt a connection with the kid. Somewhere deep inside I knew he would be an important part of my life.Fatherly instincts. I laugh to myself. Do I really think I have those?
Drew says something to Nash and he nods in understanding. Then she goes back to the defense and instructs them again. Nash calls the same play but this time he watches the defensive line before calling the snap. When he steps back, he anticipates the rush and spins out of the way allowing him time to get the ball off and throw it down field to Lucas.
I stand and clap, forgetting that I’m trying to go unnoticed. Panic flashes over Drew’s face and her body tenses. I hate that I’m the cause. Nash glances at me and then back to her. He removes his helmet as he walks toward her. Gathering her in his arms, he presses a kiss to her forehead. After a few words, he kisses her again and starts jogging in my direction.
“Coach, what are you doing here?” he asks, sitting beside me.
“I’m making the first move. I thought I could start here with one of her practices. You didn’t think you were doing this all season without me knowing, did you?” I watch my daughter as she lines the team up for another play and double checks her notes.
“I had a feeling you had an idea after I mentioned she pointed out a few things after week six but she didn’t want you to know about her involvement with the team. I had to honor that.”
“Your loyalty is to her over your coach?”
“Every time,” he says with certainty.
“That’s good to hear. She’s good at this. She’s always been able to see beyond the play. It wasn’t just about what the players were doing with the ball. She’d learn their mannerismsand how they'd react under pressure. She figured out how to read the players and helped them lean into their skills.”
“If you thought she was going to be an asset to the team, then why didn’t you let me tell you it was her idea? Why didn’t you let her help?”
Sighing, I stare out to the field. Drew’s eyes meet mine for a brief moment. I smile but it makes her drop her gaze back to her clipboard. “If you told me it was her, then I would have said yes. I let my fear push her away.”
“Your fear?” he questions.
“That’s an answer I owe my daughter.”
“I agree. She doesn’t have classes for another hour. She really likes the cinnamon rolls at The Round Table.” He pats my shoulder as he stands. “I’ll get this wrapped up if you want to talk to her.”
“Thank you.”
“No problem. I would do anything for her.” He glances over at her briefly. “She might be scared but she’s also strong. The truth can’t hurt her anymore than the lies already have.” He leaves me with his parting words that feel similar to a stab in the heart.
My players nod and say hello as they file off the field. Drew and Nash being the last two in line. He kisses her on the cheek before leveling me with a glare that basically tells me he doesn’t care who I am. If I hurt her, I’m fucked. It’s a relief knowing she has someone like him in her corner.
“Would you like to grab a bite to eat or a coffee? I hear the cinnamon rolls are good at The Round Table,” I say when it’s just the two of us.
“I don’t think that would be a good idea since I work there. Can we stay here?” she asks, noticing my disappointment.
“Sure.” I wave a hand toward the bleachers. “How are they looking for this weekend? We need to win to make the playoffs. New Orleans has a trick defense.” Talking about football has always come easy for us. It’s the one thing we have in common but also what ultimately made me lose her.
“Nash is overcorrecting. That’s what we were working on today. He needs to run the play and trust the offensive line to do their job holding the defense back. He’s trying to do it all.” She passes me her clipboard with some plays drawn out and her notes. “These are New Orleans’ most common defensive plays.”
“When you came to my office, I didn’t look at the report you handed me because I knew what I would find.” I flip through the papers she’s given me. Every play is detailed and mapped out with precision. “You’ve already proven to me and others that you know the game. I couldn’t look at it because I would have said yes to you helping. I was afraid being too close to me—to football—would change you.” I lean forward on my knees and drop my head.
“Why?” she asks in a whisper. "You're my dad."
