Page 84 of The Game Plan
And like that, all my nerves settled…at that moment.
I run a hand down my face and exhale slowly.
A knock is the only announcement I get before my office door swings open.
“You still alive in here?” Hawke, our wide receivers coach, steps in with a coffee in hand and eyebrow raised.
“Barely,” I say, leaning back in my chair and placing my hands behind my head. “I feel like I’m going to puke.”
He chuckles and hands me the extra coffee. “You know we’ve gone over this, like, ten times, right?”
“Yeah.”
“And the players know their routes?”
“As much as they’re going to know them.”
“And you’ve prepped harder than any coach I’ve worked with in the seven years I’ve been here?”
I nod, blowing on the lid.
He claps a hand on my shoulder. “Welcome to the show, Campbell. Let’s go get ourselves a win.”
Pregame is a blur of movement and adrenaline. Players tap each other's helmets as cleats clatter against the tunnel floor. Music vibrates beneath us as it pours into the tunnel from the stadium. It’s a sold-out crowd at home for our season opener. Everything feels electric.
It hits me in waves as I jog out with the team. The smell of fresh turf is a welcoming scent as the crowd roars with excitement. The guys look at me now as their leader, not their teammate, and I can’t help but take in the determination in their eyes.
Harris squeezes my shoulder as I walk past him. He’s on the sidelines, tossing a ball with our backup quarterbacks. “Nervous, Coach?”
“Not anymore.”
We share a smile as he throws the ball with ease. “Let’s get ’em.”
Headset in place, I step deeper onto the sideline. Dad and Hawke are mid-debrief. I catch pieces of their conversation as I pass. “Let’s keep the first drive tight. Two quick outs, then test their corners with a slant on the weak side.”
I jot some notes on the iPad as we wait for kickoff. Glancing around the stadium, I give myself a moment to take it all in. My gaze flicks to the press box, where the coordinators watch from above, charting everything in real time.
“Ready, Campbell?” Coach Martinez, our offensive coordinator, asks through the headset.
I nod, looking toward where I think he’s sitting. “Hell yeah!”
He chuckles softly. My mind drifts to Savannah at home, curled on the couch in one of my CTU football shirts. I can’t wait to share this moment with both of my girls. But for now, I’ll revel in knowing she’s watching at home.
The game unfolds like a textbook. It took us a few snaps to get into the flow of things. Harris was sacked twice, which is two more times than we expected. Our rookie wide receiver missed a pass, resulting in an interception that had my blood pressure spiking.
I pace the sideline, coaching the underclassmen as they come off the field. My headset crackles with Martinez’s voice. “Next snap, we’re kneeling?”
Glancing at the scoreboard, I can’t believe we’re in the final minute of the game already. We’re up 28-10.
“Yeah,” Dad acknowledges. “Great win today, guys.”
Harris takes the snap and drops to a knee.
And just like that, we’re ending the first game of the season with a win.
Helmets are hoisted in the air as cheers erupt from everyone in attendance. Hawke slaps my shoulder and congratulates me on a great first game. As the team jogs off the field, I follow behind with a few other coaches. My phone vibrates in my pocket. By the time I slip into the tunnel, I pull it free.
Glancing at the screen, I see a new message from Savannah. I lean against the brick wall and open the notification.
