Page 23 of Playing It Forward

Heat floods my neck. “I said I’m fine.”

“And I said you’re done.”

The offense shifts awkwardly nearby. Tanner suddenly becomes very interested in adjusting his gloves. Gage studies the turf. Nobody wants to witness this.

I stalk toward Knox. “You’re pulling me in front of the whole team?”

“I’m stopping you from throwing your damn arm off.”

“I can still throw.”

“Yeah?” He folds his arms. “Then why are half your passes trying to hit seagulls instead of receivers?”

A few players cough suspiciously into their hands. I clench my jaw. “You’re undermining me.”

Knox steps closer. “No, son. I’m coaching you.”

“I don’t need protecting.”

“Tough shit.” The curse snaps through the humid air. Of course, it does. It’s quiet as a church out here with everyone listening to every word Knox speaks.

He jerks his head toward the sideline. “Take your helmet off.”

I want to argue. I want to fight. I want to throw another pass to prove I can. But I can’t. Instead, I rip off my helmet hard enough to nearly crack the facemask.

“Beck! You’re up!”

Fuck! He’s putting in the rookie quarterback. The betrayal stings nearly worse than my shoulder.

I stand on the sideline with the trainers for the remainder of the practice. I pretend I’m not butthurt Coach Knox sent me off. I pretend my shoulder isn’t aching with every inhalation of air.

Knox finally whistles to end practice. I wait and watch the players drag themselves off the field and into the locker room.

When Knox walks past me, I follow him. I don’t speak until we’re in his office. “You embarrassed me out there.”

Knox shuts the office door. “You embarrassed yourself.”

I laugh, but nothing about this situation is funny. “Good talk, Coach.”

“You think I don’t recognize what’s happening here?”

My eyes narrow. What does he know?

Knox leans against the desk. “You’re overcompensating. Pushing too hard. Hiding pain. Getting sloppy because your head’s somewhere else.”

I glance away.

“Your shoulder bad?”

I grunt. “It’s manageable.”

“That bad, huh?”

I don’t answer. I refuse to. I can’t admit how bad it is. I’m not giving up. This is our year. The year the Seals go all the way. I will be a part of it.

“You don’t get to destroy your shoulder because you’re too stubborn to admit you’re hurt.”

I grit my teeth. I’m hurt, but I’ll recover. It’s not that bad.