AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“What are you doing sitting out here all alone, Coach?” I hear Wilks call out before he runs up the stands, weaving his way through the seats and planting himself by my side.
Wilks somehow always manages to bring the energy no matter the time of day or how melancholy my mood may be.
“Just taking it all in,” I speak point-blankly when in reality, I’m trying to distract my mind away from the madness ahead of the new season.
The madness of a certain someone.
Wilks softly bobs his head in agreement as we sit in silence, both of us now staring out at the sight that lies ahead.
“How’d you know I was here, anyway?” I can’t help but speak up, shifting my body to the right.
Wilks scoffs, leaning back into the chair and placing his arms behind his head proudly. “It wasn’t that hard, Coach. You’realways one of two places. On the field or in the stands—most specifically,this seat.”
His words cause my heart to palpitate. I never knew Wilks could be so observant.
“We miss him too, you know.” He toys with his thumbs in front of him, referring not only to Ira’s passing but the fact that the seat that I always find myself in used to be Ira’s.
As the owner of a multi-million dollar football team, you'd think you’d have a luxury seat along the field or a booth that you’d occupy from the top. But nope, that was never Ira’s style.
Ira always told me that the fan’s point of view is the best point of view. So, naturally, the back row, on the right side of the pitch, is always where you’d find Ira.
He was right, and now, as I sit here, I can’t help but wonder if he also chose this spot to be in perfect alignment with the sunsets in the West. A part of me thinks he did.
“So, is that why you’re here? To tell me to stop sulking and get on with it?” I cock an eyebrow in his direction. “Don’t you have somewhere else orsomeoneelse you could be doing right now? Oh, wait…that would require you to have some game.”
Wilks playfully rolls his eyes at my jab. Humor is the only way to combat the somberness within, and thankfully, I have over sixteen lads who aren’t shy about exhibiting it. Without them, I’m not sure how I would’ve been able to handle this grief…this loss. The stadium and everything in it is a constant reminder—but the boys are the motivator that keeps me on track.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m meeting up with thatsomeonelater,” he admits, suggestively wiggling his eyebrows. “Which actually leads me to the reason why I wanted to talk to you.”
Oh no.
“Don’t be asking me for advice on your bird, and especially not your sex life,” I immediately rebut the thought. “I’ve knownyou since you were sixteen, Wilks. Besides, you have no idea what Delaney showed me today. My image of you is already scorned enough, so please, spare me the details.”
Wilks scoffs, his face full of confusion as his forehead creases. “It’s not about my newfound,veryactive sex life.” His words prompt me to roll my eyes. “It’s about the reason why it suddenly exists.”
I can hardly keep up with him. I’m always to the point. Have a thought? Say it clearly and directly. Don’t beat around the bush. Wilks always likes to make me work for information. “What are you going on about now?”
Wilks plants a firm hand on my shoulder. “It’s Delaney, Coach. It’s all the social media stuff she’s been doing.”
I adjust my seat before sitting up. “This is precisely the reason I’m out here.” I slip my jacket on. “And right now, it’s the last thing I want to talk about.”
“It’s working, Coach!” Wilks stops me in my tracks before I can make it very far. “People…they’re starting to care. I mean, I’ve never seen so many girls in my DMs in my life!”
I kiss my teeth, hands in either pocket. “Well, good for you, but that is not what this is about.” I start to inch my way back down the stairs before he darts after me.
“Listen.” He stops me yet again. “I know that some of her approaches might not be conventional, but Delaney has some really good ideas. You’ll be surprised!”
“The only ideas I’ve heard from her involve one of you doing a choreographed dance, singing some stupid song, or strip teasing everyone. So please, if those are the ideas you think arereally good, you need to get checked out.” I brush past him and glide my way down the stairs.
We reach the pitch now as Wilks runs ahead, stopping in front of me. “Have you seen the ticket sales for the home opener?” he pulls out his phone. “Look at this, Alf showed meearlier today. We’re almost sold out, Coach! When has that ever happened?”
“Let me see that!” I snatch the phone from his hand. “There's no way. I checked these numbers last week, and we only had fifteen percent of the tickets sold. How could this be?”
“Delaney.” He recircles the conversation back to her. Everything always seems to come back to her. “She's responsible for this! She put out some challenge online, where people had to show us their best football trick using the hashtag ‘Crawfield opener.’ The response was wild, Coach. We had kids and even grandparents doing the challenge. People were really getting into it!”
Regardless of the interaction, I jump back into the facts. Let’s stick to that. “But how does that sell tickets?”
“Well, Delaney reached out to the people online that used the hashtag and gave them a buy one get one free ticket voucher?—”
