Page 73 of Play Fake
I might not be here at all if not for him.
But I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with this information Ford is feeding me. I’m at training camp. Murph would want us working our asses off, getting to know the team dynamic, and securing our starting position for the season. He wouldn’t want us to worry about him. He’d want us to put our focus on the game.
His words at every practice come back to me.
Show up or make excuses.
He always told us those were our two choices.
But what does that mean now? Do I show up for him, or do I show up for my team?
“Where is he?” I ask.
“Northwestern Memorial,” he says, naming a hospital in Chicago.
“Are you doing anything?”
“I’m not sure. I want to say goodbye, but I’m sure the other hundreds of players he coached over the years would all feel the same,” he says.
I hadn’t thought of that. “What if he doesn’t make it?” I ask quietly. “Would you leave camp to attend the funeral?”
“If I need to.”
“You had him four years. I only had him two,” I say. It sounds like an excuse. The truth is that I only needed him one year for him to change my entire life.
Ford knows that, too. “Excuse.”
“I know.” I let out a heavy sigh. “He was there for us when we needed him. What if he needs us now?”
“He has a team of doctors doing everything they can. He doesn’t need us, but his family might. They might need to see how we’re all pulling for him.”
“Yeah,” I mutter. “Thanks for letting me know. If you hear anything…”
“Yeah. I know. You too.”
I hang up with Ford, and Nick emerges from his shower a few minutes later.
“You want to go grab some food?” he asks.
I shake my head. “I need a few minutes. I have some calls to make.”
“Everything okay?”
I lift a shoulder. “Don’t know. One of my high school coaches was in an accident, and it’s not looking good.”
“Shit, man. I’m sorry. Anything I can do?”
“That’s what I’m wondering myself.” And I feel like I know just the person to call.
CHAPTER 29: Ainsley Bradley
Babe
“Hey! I wasn’t expecting such a quick turnaround, but I’m not complaining,” I answer when I see Dex calling. I just got Jack out of the bathtub, and he’s currently bouncing in his play bouncer while he listens to the sounds of “Baby Shark.”
“My brother Ford just called. He said Coach Murph was in a bad accident last night and might not make it.”
“Oh, God, Dex. I’m so sorry.” I don’t know who Coach Murph is, but I don’t choose this moment to say that. He tells me anyway.
