Team Hate

by Hart, Rebel

  “You can’t ‘let’ me do anything.” He slid down the bench. “I don’t need advice from you. I’m fine.”

  “Oh my god.” We looked over and Jack was standing a few feet away. “You’re gonna risk a concussion just to prove to everyone your dick is bigger than Jane’s? Will you just listen to her?”

  I wanted to be happy that yet another player seemed to be showing me some semblance of respect, but it wasn’t the time. Asshole or not, I wouldn’t feel comfortable until I knew our starting quarterback was okay.

  “Fuck you.” John shook his head and I watched his eyes go wonky again before settling.

  Jim shrugged. “Whatever. We can’t make him listen. Let him get his head sawed off.”

  The other teammates started to walk away, but the thought of watching John have his neck snapped backward freaked me out so much more than the part of me that hated him.

  “Are you really going to be this stupid?” John looked over at me with a vile expression, but I didn’t falter. “If I go get one of the dicked coaches and have one of them come and tell you the danger you’re in, will you listen? What are you going to do if you ruin your career? Do you honestly think you’ll look back and go ‘At least I didn’t listen to that woman?’”

  John looked at me for a minute like he was legitimately contemplating what I was saying. I stayed steadfast, not dropping my eyes from his as long as he looked at me, but eventually, he looked away without saying a word. I shook my head. Whose resolve was that strong that they were willing to kill themselves for it?

  “Well, fine. Not that you have to listen, but you should twist out when the middle tackle comes at you. He’s trying to hurt you.” I didn’t say anything else. If he wasn’t willing to listen, Jim was right, there was nothing I could do.

  I got to my feet and went back to stand at Jim’s side while he talked to the team through some strategies for the second half. When he wavered on whether or not to put John back in the game, I kept my mouth shut, but when he was discussing the offense as a whole, I was certain to mention that if they continued to underestimate the defense, they were going to end up in a bad position. I caught a few of the guys’ concentrated looks as I spoke and could tell they weren’t just looking at me, they were listening. It gave me hope that maybe they could come to accept me as a coach and as a friend. I only wanted the best for them. Maybe they were finally starting to realize it?

  Jim started out the second half with John on the bench. I saw the way the star quarterback glared at me as though it was my fault, but Jim reiterated more than once that it was his decision alone. I understood a coach deciding to keep a man out of the game who had blatant disregard for his own safety, but the fact remained: if John wasn’t in the game, we weren’t going to win.

  I peeked over at him sitting on the bench and staring down at the ground in frustration. My being excited that the team seemed to be developing at least a little bit of respect for me was completely diminished by the fact that John still didn’t and that bothered me. What was it about him specifically that made me feel like if he didn’t come around I wouldn’t be happy? Was it just because he was such a tough cookie to crack? He lifted his head and looked out at the field, and his expression went from anger to a desperate longing. He didn’t look angry that he wasn’t out there, or anxious that he wasn’t in control. He looked as if he’d been separated from something that gave him life. As if someone had reached inside of him and pulled his heart directly from his chest. It killed me to see and at that moment something shifted in me. Maybe it was pity or maybe it was something else, but I realized that in spite of the odds, we had one very real thing in common: we both loved the hell out of football. His frustration seemed similarly centered to mine. We both just wanted everyone around us to love football like we did, to the point that they ascribed to all the things that we believed to be true.

  I decided to take a risk. It was calculated, and probably dumb, but somehow I felt like it might be worth it. Jim called a timeout and the offense rushed off the turf and huddled around us. Jim opened his mouth to speak, but I stepped in front of him before he could get a word out.

  I pointed at the second-string quarterback who’d been in instead of John. “Meyers, you’re out. Sceptre, you’re in.”

  Jim tried to pull me back, but I dug my feet into the ground and wouldn’t move. “Jane, what the hell are you doing?” I twisted my head as far as it would go to look back at Jim. He stared at me for a moment and then sighed and shook his head. “Fine.”

  I looked over at John. “I’m not going to tell you what to do because I know you won’t listen, but I do know they need you out there. Time to put your money where your mouth is.”

  John looked back at me wide-eyed and confused. “Okay.”

  There was a brief moment where the entire team was broken. John and I had just had as close to an amicable interaction as was probably ever going to happen for us and no one knew quite how to react. It took Jack slowly pushing his hand into the center of the huddle for anyone to shake free of their stupor. The rest of the team shoved their hands in, I placed mine atop theirs, and Jim placed his atop mine.

  “Knights!”

  The team broke and John cast me a curious glance as he made his way out. I gave him a small nod. I probably wouldn’t trust him to watch a goldfish, but I trusted him with football, and I hoped that he could see that.

  Jim was so tense that his shoulders were in his ears. “I hope you’re right about this.”

  I didn’t respond; I honestly wasn’t sure I was. Having our offense stop underestimating their defense was a key move in getting us to a point where we were only down by less than a touchdown, but all the points we’d scored were hard fought for with the second-string quarterback constantly running from the middle tackle. He’d made several questionable throws, and refused to run, so forward movement was too spaced out to win with the time we had left. John was a risk-taker, and if he could keep himself out of the clutches of the vicious opponent trying to take his head off, he could get us the final points that we needed to win the game.

  We made progress downfield, though slowly. I checked the game clock with every passing second, and soon we were under two minutes remaining. It was now or never. I had my hands pressed to my lips like I was praying, and Jim had crossed his arms, and his fingers were digging so hard into the skin of his arms that his flesh was turning white around them. Nervousness hung around us like bees on honey.

  Caleb hiked the ball back to John, and he started to back up. Our offense was smart. Shawn and Cinder collapsed in towards one another and backed their way towards John to keep him safe. Unfortunately, their defense was ready, and their right and left tackles came in immediately to take them out of the way. The middle tackle busted through the line and was charging at John like a bullet train. My heart was racing. All I could see was him successfully colliding with John’s helmet and causing him serious injury. John was scanning downfield and Jim and I both inhaled and held our breath when we noticed Jack break out of a trap and get open. John saw it too, and right as the middle tackle was about to collide with him, he pitched the ball. Once it was out of his hand, to my severe shock, he twisted his body out and craned his head out of the way. He actually took my advice. The tackle leaped off the field and crashed into his torso. His head rammed into John’s shoulder, and they both went tumbling to the ground.

  I thought Jim was going to jump out of his skin, but we saw a yellow flag go flying through the air. I slapped John’s arm and we turned our attention to Jack. The ball spiraled as it soared downfield.

  “Shit.” John started running downfield and I followed.

  I could see what he saw, it was overthrown. Jack was bolting down the field after the ball and everyone else on our team was charging after. Jack flipped around, jumped up and the ball fell against his chest and nestled perfectly into his arms. Jack’s feet hit the turf and everyone on the team and the crowd went wild. He was off towards the end-zone like Sonic
the hedgehog. I realized in an instant that John didn’t overthrow the ball, he threw it long on purpose and trusted Jack to get under it. The opposing team’s defense was slow, it was part of the errors they’d become known for. They didn’t stand a snow’s chance in hell to catch Jack. He raced across the dividing line to the end-zone and Jim and I started jumping up and down and screaming at the top of our lungs. The stadium exploded into roars and cheers.

  We declined the unnecessary roughness penalty and the touchdown stood. Our team took their time lining up to kick the field goal and by the time the ball was soaring past the goalposts, there wasn’t enough time left at all for anything else. The time ran down and we all started to cheer, sourpuss John included. He rushed over to me, jumping up and down, and I couldn’t help but join in.

  “That throw was amazing!” I punched his shoulder. “We actually thought you overthrew it at first.”

  “Me?” John smiled and put his hands on his hips. “Watch who you’re talking to, coach.”

  Everyone, myself included, stopped moving and stared at John. My skin started to overheat in an instant and I could feel I was probably blushing. Hearing the word ‘coach’ cross John’s lips like he meant it left me with a feeling I couldn’t describe. It was like the sun rising on a new day, or pulling a fresh, hot meal out of the oven. It invigorated me and I struggled to process what that meant.

  John looked around at everyone, confused at first, but then it registered what he had said. He looked at me, opened his mouth to say something, but didn’t. He peeled-out from the group and ran for the locker rooms.

  Jim wrapped his arm around my shoulders. “Well, that was unexpected.”

  My blood was still pumping as fast as a roaring river. “You’re telling me.”

  7

  John

  I was like a kid who’d suddenly forgotten how to ride a bike. Here I’d been so dedicated to getting rid of Jane, but as soon as I let my subconscious take over, I didn’t just compliment her, but I actually regarded her as a coach. What the hell was wrong with me? We always had the Monday after games off to recover, but no amount of drinking or sleeping with women could get Jane’s bold smile and punch to my shoulder out of my mind. I was almost afraid to sleep for fear of what my subconscious would show me.

  By the time Tuesday rolled around, I was exhausted and even more confused. Every step I took felt like the ground was going to crumble under me and I was going to fall in. I told myself that I was going to be business as usual. I repeated to myself like a mantra that nothing Jane had to say mattered to me; she didn’t belong in football. That had to be true. I’d believed it so severely less than 48 hours ago, I couldn’t just have been wrong. That’s not how these things work.

  “John!” I didn’t have any time to react to the shouting of my name before I ran smack dab into what felt like a brick wall. I backed a few feet away and caught my bearings and realized I’d bumped into Dax.

  “Sorry, man.” I started to walk around him, but his hand slapped against my arm and gripped it. “What? Let me go.”

  “I saw that shit you pulled on Sunday.”

  I hunched my brow. “The long throw?”

  “No. I knew the second that ball left your hands that you threw it long on purpose.” He rearranged himself so that we were face to face. “That shit with Jane. Is that your game? Abuse her this long so that when you finally come around she feels like she changed you?”

  My heart started to pound. My feelings about what happened with Jane were confusing enough without Dax’s accusations. “What? No. I haven’t come around to anything.”

  “Oh, you just jump up and down with joy and smile with everyone?” Dax crossed his tree-trunk arms. “I saw the look on your face, we all saw it. I’ll admit, that’s a strong strategy.”

  “There’s no strategy. I was just glad we won the game.”

  “Fuck off. If you weren’t wearing a cup, we all would have seen that boner, champ.” He grabbed the collar of my shirt. “I already claimed that ass, so you make sure you keep your distance.”

  I was overwhelmed by the urge to sock him in the face. I didn’t like the way he was talking to me. I didn’t like the way he was still referring to Jane like he was entitled to her. I just didn’t like him.

  “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I don’t give a shit about Jane. I was just happy. The moment has passed.” I grabbed Dax’s arm and ripped it from my collar. “But my earlier warning still stands. If you get us dragged into the media for not being able to keep your dick in your pants, I will end you.”

  I shoved past Dax and continued into the locker room. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me as I moved through the locker room and changed into my sweatpants and t-shirt. What were they all looking at? It wasn’t like I’d punched a kid in the face or something. So I was slightly kind to Jane for about thirty seconds. Big fucking deal.

  “Go find something else to do with your fucking time!” I waved my hand at them like a pack of mosquitoes.

  Everyone averted their stares and fumbled off to their business. Part of me wanted to change back into my street clothes and just go back home. I didn’t have it in me today. I didn’t want to see Jane at all. I didn’t want to hang around with all of these idiots making these baseless assumptions. I still didn’t think that Jane had a place on our team. Had she made a few easy to spot observations of the game? Sure. Did I end up taking her advice about the middle tackle? I probably would have ended up doing it anyway. Did I show a little bit of excitement with her at the end of the game? That was mostly because she was the first person I happened upon. I would have acted that way with anyone.

  That’s right.

  Nothing had changed. Jane was still perpetuating a bid for political correctness where none needed to be. Maybe she was going to make it a little further than the week I’d predicted, but I still wanted her gone. More so now than ever before.

  I walked out into the common area where Jim had gathered the team. I saw Jane standing next to him and when her eyes landed on me, a chill ran down my spine. She offered a small smile and my throat turned dry. I twisted my head from side to side and furrowed down my brow. I rolled my eyes so that she knew for certain; we are not friends. She rolled her eyes back at me and looked away. Good.

  Jim clapped his hands. “Alright guys, that was a good game yesterday.”

  Jane scoffed. “Did you watch the same game that I watched?”

  Jim stared down at her. “Seriously? You just got them to like you.”

  “Yeah, and I appreciate it, but I’m not doing them any favors by lying to them. They played like shit, and I told you last week that you were underestimating the dogs’ defense, so what do you do? You go out there and play like your first game of little league.”

  Jim crossed his arms. “Anything else?”

  Jane looked up towards the ceiling like she was deep in thought. “I mean, yes, but I’ll stop for now.”

  “Great.” Jim turned back towards the group. “She’s not wrong though. I thought it went better than your far tougher coach apparently, but we still made some fundamental mistakes that I’m just not comfortable with. So third and second-stringers, sorry, but you’re hitting the weights with Allan today. I’ll work with you all later in the week. Starters, I’m splitting you into small groups among the coaches for some more focused work.”

  “About fucking time,” I growled from the back.

  A smile crossed Jim’s face. “Oh, good, I’m glad you’re excited John. I’ll give you your assignment first then. You, Dax, and Jack,” he pointed to his side, “are with Jane.”

  My stomach flipped forward, then backward, then forward again. I couldn’t decide if I was angry, anxious, or annoyed. I’m the star fucking quarterback. I should be working with the head coach. And he was shoving me in alongside Dax? I was beginning to learn very quickly that Jim had very little respect for me.

  I threw my hands in the air. “I’m not doing it.”

  “Come
on dude.” Jack elbowed me. “What happened to where you ended on Sunday? We were doing so good.”

  “That was a fluke. Nothing has changed. I’m still not about to sit here and take any advice,” I pointed at Jane, “from her.”

  “You’re such a dick.” Jane held her clipboard up in the air. “Jack, Dax, if either of you want to play football, follow me.”

  “Yes, ma’am!” Dax skipped off after Jane without hesitation.

  I turned my head to look at Jack and he was already looking back at me. Finally, his expression turned sad, almost like he was taking pity on me. “She’s not so bad, dude.”

  He backhanded my chest gently and then started off. I looked back at Jim and he shrugged. “I’m not gonna make you, but that’s my decision.”

  Why was I kind of wishing he would make me so that I had a legitimate excuse? What was wrong with me all of a sudden?

  I trudged off under the watchful criticism of my teammates and ambled after Jane, Dax, and Jack. Fury started at my toes and bubbled its way up through my legs and into my stomach. No one asked her to come here. No one told her to pick this team to come and cause all of these disruptions. No one needed her. She had to go.

  We convened in the strength and conditioning room, where Dax was already using the excuse of ‘reading over her notes’ to stand behind her and keep his hand resting on her ass. She kept shuffling from under his touch, but every time she moved, he was on her like a shadow, remaining behind her and letting his hands go wherever they wanted. Finally, when Dax tried to slide his hand up her shirt, she whipped around and slapped her clipboard against his hand.

  Dax hopped back and held his hand. “Fuck!”

  “I’ve already told you to stop touching me.” She looked over at Jack and I. “I’ve got strength and conditioning plans for all three of you. This is actually my specialty, and all of you had certain shortcomings on Sunday, so we’re going to work on closing those gaps first.”