Page 78 of Hard Count
“You wouldn’t be. You’re already a vital part of this team. We needed this.” I hand her back the clipboard. “We need you.”
She laughs as a few more tears fall. “Nash told me the same thing a few months ago. I didn’t think you believed in this stuff,” she says, swiping at her face.
“I believe in hard work. I always have. I want the guys to have as many tools in their arsenal as they can. I believe in you. You’ve been our secret weapon all season. I’m sorry I made you think otherwise.”
“We’ve both said things we didn’t mean. I’m sorry too.” Her phone buzzes beside her. Her mouth curls up in a smile as she reads her message. “It’s Nash checking in.”
“I had a feeling. I’ll let you get to class. Practice starts at three.” I stand and stretch my back.
“Would it be okay if I get a hug?”
“You don’t even have to ask.” This isn’t the first time I’ve given Drew a hug since she moved back home. But it’s the first time I’ve felt her hug me back.
I know I have a lot of work to do and trust to rebuild but all her hurt and pain is because she loved me once. For a short time I was a good dad to her. I was a man of my word. The only thing I can do is show up and prove that I can be that man again.
Cursing, I play back the footage from yesterday's practice. Drew is right. Nash is over compensating. I was disappointedshe didn't stop by yesterday but I'm not surprised. I'm not naive enough to think one conversation is enough to change everything overnight.
You can't erase ten years of hurt with a snap of a finger. The same way I haven't been able to shake all the guilt and regret that's built up over time.
I turn my focus back on my computer screen. How am I going to fix Nash's new habit of thinking he needs to be the quarterback, lineman, and the running back all at the same time? I know he's under a lot of pressure to get this win and secure our playoff spot but he needs to lock in and execute the play.
A knock on the door breaks my focus on my notes. "Come in," I yell, finishing my thought before whoever walks through the door distracts me. I only have ten minutes or so before I need to be on the field for practice.
"I hope it's okay that I'm here. I know you're busy." My daughter's soft filters through my office as she stands by the door.Damnit. I hate that she thinks she's bothering me or she's not welcome here anytime. Or even worse that she believes she needs to make an appointment.
"I'm not. You can always stop by for any reason," I say. "Or no reason at all." I smile. "I hope this means you're joining us for practice."
"If that's okay." She takes a few steps forward. Her hands tighten on the straps on her backpack. My molars grind thinking about how nervous she is to be here.
"Yes. I'm glad you're here. I was just making a few notes before I head out." I nod to my legal pad of notes.
"That's actually why I came early. I have an idea to help Nash." She walks deeper into my office. Slipping her bag off her shoulder, she sits in one of the chairs across from my desk. "I went through all of the game film I had on New Orleans again last night." She opens her backpack and fishes out a stack of papers stapled together.
She extends her arm slightly but pulls back, hesitating to hand them over. "Let me see what you came up with," I say, holding out a hand. She lets out a breath and visibly relaxes. I take my time reading through all of her analysis and research. "This is really good." I jot a few things down on my practice notes. "How did you figure out they'll use a dime defense?"
"Because our quarterback leads the conference in passing yards and touchdowns." She smirks. "Every team they've played with a QB ranked in the top five, they've run their defense with six defensive backs. Which means we can slip through the cracks. It would also mean moving the chains slower."
"That's fine. I don't mind hogging the ball. What happens once they realize we're running the ball and not throwing?" I ask, flipping through a few more pages.
The left side of her mouth curls into a mischievous grin. It's the same one she had when she'd get a wild idea as a kid. She's hard to say no to when she smiles and her dimple pops in her cheek. "We have the number one quarterback on ourteam. We give them what they want and show them why he's at the top."
"I like the sound of that," I say, my grin matching hers. "Should we get out there and put the boys to work?"
Coach Garcia meets us in the hallway and walks with us out to the field. "Are you going to help me on defense, Drew, or stick with your dad on offense?" he asks, smiling down at my daughter. Garcia and I have been working together for over seven years. If someone asked who my closet friend is, it would be him.
Drew clutches her clipboard against her chest as her eyes drift to the field. The players are stretching and warming up. When Nash notices us walking in his direction, a smile stretches across his face.
For so long I've let my fear of Drew coming second to football dictate her involvement with the game and other athletes. I should have known that the game doesn't get in the way when you're with the right person. They prove this to me every day.
"What's the plan today, Coach?" Nash asks. I ignore the wink and 'hi, little fox' he mouths to my daughter.
"We were just discussing this. Did you decide who you wanted to work with?" I ask Drew.
She pushes out her lips and pretends to think, eyeing Nash and the rest of the team. "I'll work with Garcia."
Nash chuckles and nods in understanding.
"Good luck," she tell him, as she walks away to round up the defense.
