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That’s all my brain could focus on. Over and over again, we could have won if I’d just …

“Kean, I got an idea,” Sosa said, sliding over to the grumpy lumberjack who barely had the energy to glare at the younger player. That didn’t curb Sosa’s enthusiasm though. “I think you should learn the worm.”

“What?” Kean asked, finally looking up from the ground to give Sosa the most confused look I’ve ever seen on the man.

“’Cause you were going down for the ball and, like, that was the logical move, but if you do the worm, you could kick the ball back with your heels.” Sosa mimicked the movement of the worm with his arm and Kean started at him for a long minute before sighing and shaking his head.

“Sure. How do I do that?” And then within a few minutes, half the team was on the floor trying to show Kean how to do the worm. I don’t think any of them but Sosa could successfully do it. But watching them all together made me realize how much the team had grown over this season. A year ago, Kean would have never considered Sosa’s suggestion, let alone tried it in the middle of the locker room with everyone else. We were a better team than when we won last year, we had a better coach, a better owner. So why did we lose?

“Did that game really break you all?” Coach asked when he came back into the room to most everyone laughing on the floor.

“I’m teaching Kean the worm,” Sosa answered, not looking up as pushed his arms up then brought his chest to the ground.

“Yeah, all right,” Sharma said, shrugging. “But get up off the floor so I can review a few things before you guys get hounded by the press.” The guys on the ground grumbled as they all took up their seats or simply sat cross-legged on the ground. “Good enough. You played a good game out there. Point blank. Your focus might have shifted because a racist prick was on the field, but I won’t call that a loss. Now, on the record, we’re saying we noticed a pattern of aggression from Briggs against one player on the field today and we, and the rest of the league—because I am filing a complaint—will be watching to see if this is a ‘reoccurring’ pattern. I know you might want to be more specific, but until I deal with the league and can protect everyone from backlash, stick to the script. Understood?”

“Yes, Coach,” we all said.

“And Christenson?” Coach said, cocking his head to the side so I’d join him away from the others.

“Ooo, Daddy Christenson is in trouble,” Brooker said and the guys around him started snickering.

“Not in trouble,” Coach assured.

“And not a daddy,” I added, trying to sound stern and not give in to his bit.

“I mean, you will be in a few months.”

“And you kind of act like our dad sometimes,” Fuller piped in.

“You corral them well,” Coach said. “Normally.”

The boys hollered at that and I rolled my eyes, following Coach around the corner.

“I’m sorry, sir. I wasn’t prepared for that game the way I should have been. It won’t—”

“Christenson.” Sharma’s tone was set and ice flooded my veins. My teammates might not have seen how much this loss was my fault, but Coach did. Of course, he did. He might even want me to step down as captain. And as much as that would rip my heart out, it’d be fair. I failed them today.

“You only have the Milan tournament during the offseason, right?”

“Uh, so far, yes,” I said, taken aback by the change in topic.

“Good. Now I know you well enough to know you’re blaming yourself for this loss. And I also know you wouldn’t want me to sugarcoat shit. So I’ll say it, had you been more prepared, we just might have won. Might. You wouldn’t have been so reckless or aggressive if you’d felt ready for that match, but that’s the only difference you could’ve made.”

“Yes, sir.” I pulled my shoulders back, ready to look this demotion in the eye.

“Ah, don’t look at me like that. I already said you’re not in trouble. Look.” He paused, running a hand over his face. “Am I right to assume this is your first real relationship while in the league?”

“Oh, um, yes.”

“Right, so you’re in a new relationship for the first time in however many years, one that got serious real fast. You’re gonna make mistakes while you figure out a balance for your new life. That’s normal. What I pulled you aside for is to tell you to take a break. Don’t take on any new tournaments, spend the offseason off. Spend the time finding a new balance, ask the others to do stuff you don’t have time for. Hell, pick an alternate captain. It’s wild you don’t have one already. And I’m going to talk to Langston about this, but if I can force you to take paternity leave, I will.”

“Oh. I—thank you, sir. I’ll make sure to have a plan before next season begins, so that—”

“Christenson.” This time he sounded a little exhausted with me. “I don’t expect you to have a plan before next season. I expect you to come back fully rested and we can make a plan together as a team. Doing it all on your own is why you couldn’t balance things in this game.”

“Right, sorry, sir.”

“And … maybe talk to the counselor if you’re struggling,” he added quietly. “This career is stressful for single men without kids, let alone fathers. Use the resources while you’ve got them.”