Page 16 of Play Dirty

We stood there in the aisle, our carts angled awkwardly between us. Neither of us knowing what to do or say.

“You sure picked a hell of a time to show up,” he said finally.

There wasn’t any edge to his voice. As far as he was concerned, he was stating fact.

“I’m getting that impression,” I told him.

His mouth curled a little at the edges. Maybe even letting on that he appreciated the honesty.

“Yeah,” said Tyler. “You should.”

“And why’s that?”

The hands gripping his cart went a little tighter. For the next few seconds he looked me over, as if trying to decide how much to say.

“Trees wasn’t just the coach,” he said.

Trees. The name landed immediately.

Coach Trees.

“Alright,” I answered.

“He was…” his voice trailed off, as he sought out the right words. “He just let us play. He trusted us. He didn’t try to micromanage every shift.”

For once, I didn’t interrupt. I just listened.

“He also didn’t try to turn us into something we weren’t,” Tyler went on. “And he fought for us, too. With management. Against ownership. He didn’t always win, but he didn’t roll over, either. And had our best interests at heart.”

He glanced down at his feet, and then up at me again.

“That worked for us.”

I wanted to tell him that it didn’t work for him, because they weren’t winning games. That comfort in playing, and in coaching, didn’t always lend to you giving your best effort.

But this early into my tenure wasn’t the time.

And the produce aisle, trapped between carrots and cabbage, definitely wasn’t the place.

“I can see why,” I replied simply.

“Then suddenly he’s gone,” Tyler continued. “Just like that. No warning. No explanation.”

He looked at me pointedly.

“And then I show up.”

He didn’t say anything, at first. He only held my gaze.

“The timing’s bad,” he eventually shrugged. “Don’t you think?”

“You think I had something to do with it?”

He pondered the question for a long moment.

“I think,” he said slowly, “the team doesn’t know what the hell happened.”

He lifted his hand from his own cart, just enough to point at me.