by Hart, Rebel
She walked over to Jack and handed out a piece of paper to him. It had his body specs on it and some notes. Jack took it and started to read it over, his eyes widening. “Wow, this is impressive.”
Jane grinned. “Thank you.” She unclipped the next piece of paper from her clipboard and held it out towards Dax. “Take it and don’t take a single step closer to me.”
Dax listened, grabbing the paper and returning to his spot some distance away, but his eyes locked onto her breasts and didn’t move. “Thanks.”
She looked back at me. I could tell she was attempting to gauge where I was at, so I just stood there waiting. She took the final paper from her clipboard and extended it out to me. I looked at the paper and then dragged my gaze up to meet hers. I made no attempt to reach for it. I didn’t want it. The second I gave in to her, I was going to forget who I was. I didn’t need her help.
There and then gone in a flash, was a sad expression, as if she was hurt and disappointed. It shot through me like a bullet, but I swallowed the pain and ignored it. She took the piece of paper back, crinkled it up, tossed it in a trash can, and then turned her attention to Jack.
“Alright, Jack, Dax. Both of you need arm work, so let us start with pulls.”
She turned her back to me and Jack and Dax both hopped in line doing what she asked. I stood there while she worked them through their routines, firing off expert advice, and speaking to them like she was an actual coach. There was a growling irritation in my stomach that troubled me when she gave them so much attention than me.
I took a step forward. “Jane.” She didn’t even blink. Jack and Dax both side-glanced me when I beckoned her, but she was trained on the conditioning monitor, making notes, and continuing to bark orders at them. “Jane,” I tried again, but nothing. If I were a cartoon character, my skin would be turning red. Women didn’t ignore me. I walked over to her. “Hey, I’m talking to you.”
Jane walked around me without so much as breathing in my direction and walked over to Jack’s side. He’d transitioned to a treadmill and she put her hand on his back to help him run more upright.
Jack immediately smiled wide. “Oh, wow, that does feel way better.”
Jane returned his cheer. “You’re gonna be a bullet train out there.”
Her smile rushed across the room and slapped me in the face. It was the ghost of the one she’d offered to me after Sunday’s game. I shook my head to push it away from me, but the vision had already been painted behind my eyelids. “Fine. Fuck you.” I said the words out loud, but I was angrier at myself. If I didn’t get a grip on what I was doing, I was going to lose everything.
I walked out of the room with sweat pooling at my brow and my throat getting tighter. I was frustrated and upset all at the same time.
Seriously, what was happening to me?
8
Jane
I had a splitting headache. I couldn’t decide if navigating John’s nasty attitude or fending off Dax’s disgusting advances was worse, but I knew I was over both of them. I decided to take a few minutes after packing up my things to just sit and breathe. Maybe if I took enough deep, even breaths, the remaining assholes on the team would finally come around and actually start acting like decent human beings. It wasn’t as if John and Dax were the only ones still giving me trouble, in fact, though it seemed like a majority of the starting lineup was treating me with a modicum of respect, most of the second and third-stringers still viewed me as a nuisance, a plaything, or both. It was exhausting trying to change the thoughts and views of multiple people all at once. How activists did it, I’d never know.
“Hey.” I looked up and Jim was standing in the doorway of the closet the facility called my office.
“Hi.” I picked up my things and stood up from my desk. “Headed out? I’ll walk with you.”
“You just headed home?”
I let out an exasperated sigh. “Yeah.”
Jim smiled. “Let’s go grab a bite and a drink. My treat.”
Jim was something of a miser, and though I was his precious younger sister and he’d do anything for me, he didn’t open his wallet for much at all. If he was offering to pay, I certainly wasn’t going to turn down the rare opportunity.
“You’re on.”
We picked a place we both adored not far from the training facility called ‘K.O.’. It was in the hipster part of town, where the likelihood of being offered drugs or artwork was the same, and run-down, shacks of houses sat directly next to eclectic ‘ramblers’ which of course were just the shacks painted a variety of loud colors. The bar sat right in the heart of the neighborhood, and the patrons inside varied wildly from bikers-gang type people, to the woman sitting in the corner wearing pretentious, small, circle-framed glasses and writing on an actual typewriter.
We picked a spot at one of the open tables and a waitress slunk her way across the bar to where we were.
“Hi.” Her voice was flat like the typewriter lady was the most exciting part of her night. “What can I get ya?”
Neither of us even needed to look at the menus, which were embedded into the glass of the table for permanent viewing.
“A Budweiser in the bottle and a BLT for me please.” Jim pointed at one of the pictures on the menu. “And the loaded fries.”
She scribbled his order onto her pad and then looked over at me. “And for you?”
I smiled up at her. “Hi. Can I please have a Juicy Lucy medium well and onion strings? And I’ll have a long-island to drink. Top-shelf, I need it.”
She didn’t say anything else, just walked away. We didn’t mind. We came for the food, not the service.
Jim laced his fingers into one another on top of the table. “Top-shelf, huh?”
I rolled my eyes. “Even that won’t be enough. I still might go home and polish off a bottle of wine.”
“It can’t be that bad. I know these guys can be a handful, but it seems like they’re coming around.”
“A few of them are.” I thought back over the team, particularly the first-string, who did seem to be developing some respect for me. “Jack is nice, but he always was.”
Jim nodded. “Jack’s great. He’s got something crazy like five sisters I think, and then they all already have kids, all nieces.”
“Whoa. So he’s very used to being around women.”
“I imagine so.”
“Wyatt, Alvin, Cinder, Benton, they’ve all calmed down a bit too. At least whenever Cinder makes a creepy joke, he quickly tacks on ‘just kidding.’” I sighed. “That isn’t much better, but we’re taking baby steps.” Without him even being there, I could feel Dax’s hands on my body, crawling over places they weren’t welcome like roaches. “Dax is too friendly.”
Jim shifted uneasily in his chair. “Yeah. I really, really need you to stay on your toes with him. He makes me uncomfortable.”
“You? Try having breasts and an ass. He does not know how to take no for an answer.”
“That’s what I’m worried about. Just promise me if he gets really crazy that you’ll let me know.”
“I will.” Jim’s eyes widened like he didn’t trust me, and I held up my hands. “I will! Promise.”
Our food and drinks came, and I took out half my drink before even thinking about my food. The strong liquor burned my throat as it went down and was the perfect aid to discussing the biggest problem child.
“Then there’s John.”
Jim let out a low chuckle. “Yeah. You two do not get along. It’s weird too because he’s really close with his sisters.”
“He’s not interested in getting along. He’s got this seriously weird complex with women in sports. Worse than anyone I’ve met to date. I’ve even proven I know what I’m talking about and he still won’t let it go. It’s infuriating.”
“Some people are just like that. It isn’t fair, but it’s the name of the game. Traditionally male professional sports, as a whole, just aren’t ready for women yet. They’re threatened.”
/> “Yeah, well they’re gonna have to get ready because I’m not going anywhere.”
Jim let out a loud laugh. “You’ve made that perfectly clear.”
“What about you? I’m sure they’ve been pretty pissed about it with you too.”
Jim shrugged. “A few of them have made their concerns known, but I don’t really care. None of them could give me a real reason why you shouldn’t be allowed to coach, so I told them to kick rocks. For the most part, as long as you don’t interfere with their ability to play football, they’re fine. They just take a little bit longer to adjust to change.” He took a huge bite of his BLT. “They’ll come around. Trust me.”
“I don’t know about John. That is one egg I don’t know that I’m gonna be able to crack.”
“You saw it last Sunday, it’s in him to treat you nicely. Just keep after him. Kill him with kindness and he’ll definitely come around.”
“I’m glad you’re confident,” I said, bottoming out my drink. “I’m not so sure.”
9
Jane
“Hey there, beautiful.” Dax’s warm breath settled on my ear and made me shiver. He put a hand on my hip, but I took the pen in my hand and stabbed it against the back of his hand. “Shit! You’re gonna mess with my ball-handling.”
“Then keep your hands to yourself.”
Dax looked at me like he was a bull and I was a bright red cape, but before he could charge, the rest of the team walked out onto the field where we were standing. He sucked his teeth at the presence of others and slunk away rubbing his hand.
I grabbed the folder of papers I’d brought with me and faced the team with a smile. “Good afternoon. I’m excited for today’s scrimmage. We covered some important stuff yesterday, so now it’s time to put it into practice.”
I opened the folder and started to walk around passing out the papers I had tucked within. They were personalized health reports and recommendations, designed to maximize each player’s effectiveness during the games. I used to make them all the time for the guys I coached at the college level and they loved them. It got to the point where if I didn’t bring them, they’d be upset with me and then play like middle-schoolers. I’d simply learned in my time coaching that people often had less of a handle over their own bodies than they thought they did. Having an outsider’s perspective, mixed with some solid recommendations could make a world of difference.
“Wow, these are cool.” Alvin was comparing his to Isaac’s. “How long did it take you to do these?”
“I mean, at the risk of sounding creepy, I’ve been studying you guys for years. Before I was your coach, I was a fan.” I continued to pass them out until I had only Dax and John’s left; placed on the bottom of the pile intentionally.
“Fucking goody-two-shoes.” John was in the center of the group, antagonizing as always. “Any player worth his game knows his own body.
When I turned to give Dax his, I slipped John’s off as well and tucked it behind my clipboard. When I turned back towards him, I held up the empty side. “Well then, lucky for you, I didn’t make one. Since you know everything, I figured you didn’t need one.”
The team started to snicker at him, mumbling under their breaths about him still acting like such a tool.
“Shut the fuck up, all of you.” John glared at me. “I’ve had just about enough of you ignoring me.”
“All I did was leave you out. You say all the time how my being here is a waste of time, so what does it matter to you if I ignore you or not?”
John just stared at me, and I could tell he was struggling to find a reasonable answer. Eventually, he just walked away, forcing his way through the crowd of players, until he was out of sight.
Jim took over after that, getting the scrimmage underway. I could see that the guys were really taking my advice, apart from John, and were really getting into the game. They were fired up for the chance to make the playoffs and head to the championship game. The Super Bowl was within reach and it hung around the field like a shroud of energy. I cheered on the players as they went, and they seemed to react positively to having someone around giving them affirmations. In a world full of rough and tough, it was nice for them to have a little bit of sweetness. To my pleasure, a few of the guys even asked me questions in between plays; the best way to position their bodies, the best way to take advantage of a certain situation, and unfortunately for John, one of the second-string tackles asked me the best way to take down a star quarterback.
“Everyone has a weakness. As long as you can figure it out, you’re never out of reach of the big-headed stars you’re gonna come up against.” I pointed at John. “He’s not good at keeping an eye on the periphery of his sphere of influence.” The guy looked at me like I was speaking another language and I giggled. “Come at him from the side.”
He nodded as a huge grin spread from cheek to cheek. “Got it.”
The next play of the scrimmage started. Caleb hiked the ball to John and he started backing up, but all of the receivers were tangled up. The tackle who’d questioned me, peeled out to the left, and as expected, John didn’t realize it. I could envision where I’d written ‘improve peripheral vision’ on the papers he’d refused to accept from me, and he was about to learn why that was a huge mistake. The tackle burst out from the offensive line and slammed into John hard, sacking him, and sending him barreling to the ground. John’s head slammed against the ground and bounced up again, colliding with the helmet of the tackle who’d hit him. Jim blared with his whistle and waved his hands and the game came to a halt.
“Shit,” I murmured under my breath. I was excited for John to learn the importance of listening to someone who only had his health in mind, but I didn’t think the tackle was going to all-out blitz him during a scrimmage.
We rushed out to the field, where John and the tackle were now both laying, spread-eagle, on their backs. Jim crouched over John and started to unfasten his helmet, while I did the same for the other player. The tackle was okay. He seemed a little dazed, but he still had a huge, dopey smile on his face.
“Solid advice, coach.”
I flicked him in the forehead. “I said ‘Come at him from the side,’ not ‘tackle his rib-cage out.’ Hit the bench.” The tackle seemed irritated with my decision, but did as he was told. He got to his feet, collected his helmet, and walked off, and I turned my attention to John. “You okay?”
“Who the fuck told him to slam me like that?”
Perfect. As if he didn’t hate me enough already. “I didn’t tell him to do that.”
“How did I know it was you?”
“I can’t imagine you thought I came up with anything successful.”
John’s eyes attempted to flare, but looked more dazed. “You think nearly beheading your star player is successful?”
“Enough, you two.” Jim snapped over John’s face and his eyes went wild, with his pupils going small and then large with no rhyme or reason. “Your eyes are going crazy.”
He stood up and reached out for John’s hand, and at first, when John swung out to clasp his hand, he missed entirely. He closed his eyes and then opened them and tried again, clapping hands with Jim the second time. Jim helped him to his feet, but as soon as he was up his eyes rolled back into his head and he started to drop. We rushed forward to catch him, but he shook his head and caught himself before he fell and stood upright.
“I’m good.”
My jaw dropped. “No, you’re not.” I snapped in his face and his eyes swirled around again. “He needs to see the medic.”
“You’re not pulling me out of a scrimmage before this game. I said I’m good, and I would know better than you.” He clapped his hands, moving slightly off balance as he did so. “Let’s go.”
Jim looked over at me. “Do you think he has a concussion?”
I crossed my arms. “He seems prone to the symptoms, so he could be okay, but I wouldn’t feel comfortable letting him continue to play until he’s been seen by an actual
doctor.”
Jim looked at John, his expression apologetic all over. “She knows body stuff better than me, man. That’s part of the reason she was hired. I have to defer to her on stuff like this.”
John shook his head. “Don’t.” He looked at me. “Don’t make it personal.”
That phrase made my body temperature double with rage. Even if he wasn’t suggesting that I would do something as immoral as take him out of the game because of my own personal hangup, all he’d done since I’d started was make it personal. How dare he?
“You can think what you want. I can’t let you keep playing when you can’t even stay standing straight up. I’m benching you.”
John looked at Jim. “You’re seriously going to let her do that?”
I stepped forward, the irritation in my body increasing. “He didn’t let me do anything. I’m a coach here too. I was hired to make these kinds of calls, and I’m making them. Until a medic has confirmed that you’re okay, you’re benched. Now get off my field.”
John shook his head and all I could hear was Jim telling me that I’d be fine as long as I didn’t interfere with anyone’s ability to play football. Here I was doing the exact opposite, but I had no choice.
“You’re a fucking bitch.”
Jim stepped forward. “Hey!”
I held out an arm to hold Jim back. “You’re right, I am.” I pointed over to the benches.
John stormed off the field, not towards the benches, but towards the locker room. Everyone watched him as he went, with a few of the team saying that he went too far. Despite everyone else’s anger, I understood why he was mad. It was for his own good, but he couldn’t see that, and I couldn’t make him. I meant what I said. He could believe whatever he wanted about the situation. If I let him keep playing and he took another hard hit and developed a brain injury, that’d be worse. Maybe someday he would see that I did what I did to protect him, but even if he never did, I’d sleep better tonight knowing I made the right call.
