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“Just follow me.” Coach turns around and starts stomping down the hall like an army sergeant. “And take those fucking shades off!”
I reluctantly slip my glasses off, and hook them onto the neckline of my shirt.
“Let’s get one thing straight—you’re not in New York anymore.” The coach prattles on as he walks me through the facility, which looks just like the Bulls stadium, except smaller and older.
“You signed a morality clause, which I take very seriously. I can tell from the way you strolled in here like a cocky frat boy that you think you can do whatever the hell you want, but I’m letting you know now that that’s not the case.”
God, he reminds me of my dad.
“As was written in your contract, you are forbidden from partying and gallivanting around town. So, don’t even think about it. Also, any female who works in this stadium is off-limits. Your old coach said there were issues in the past with you messing around with jealous female co-workers, so consider them off-limits, understood?”
Although I was mostly whistling in my head and checking out my reflection in the various windows during coach’s speech, the words “female” and “off-limits” snap me awake.
“Wait, wait, wait. I don’t remember that being anywhere in the contract I signed.”
The coach sighs, rolling his eyes as he hikes up his pants. “Well, read it again, Einstein. It’s definitely in there. Maybe you overlooked it while admiring yourself.”
I roll my eyes, but inside, I’m quietly panicking. What am I supposed to do in this town if I can’t drink, have sex, or do anythingfun? God, I’m gonna die here.
“Come on, I’ll show you the locker room.”
As I follow coach into the room, a wave of “shhh!” follows as soon as we open the door. The teammates drop what they’re doing and stand straight up, like loyal soldiers.
Things appear to be a lot stricter here than with my old team.
I’m not sure how I feel about that.
“Everyone, please welcome Brady Thomas to the team. I’m sure he needs no introduction. Brady, say something.”
I look out into the sea of emotionless faces, as stiff as robots.
“Yo.”
“Even though Brady comes from the Bulls, he’s going to train just as hard—if not harder —than the rest of you. I expect the absolute best from my players, and that goes for everyone. There are no special treatments here.”
As I look around the locker room at my new teammates, I can’t help but worry about the reality of me being here. I’m actually going to have to work my butt off, and the coach already seems to have it out for me. Things are not looking good.
“Brady, I need you to head to the equipment room to get your gear.” The coach walks me to my locker, prying its rickety frame open. “After that, I need you to head upstairs to get your diet plan in order.”
“Wait, awhat?”
All this is too much, with the crazy work schedule, the uptight coach, and the robotic teammates. What the hell have I gotten myself into?
“A diet plan? I don’t need that,” I insist.
“Yes, you do.” The coach props his leg on one of the benches. “Everyone on the team has a diet plan, and now, you will have one, too.”
What planet am I even on right now? If I mentioned “diet plan” to my old coach, he would have laughed me right out of his office.
“Nah, I don’t need that. I’m fine the way I am. I eat food, I put energy out. Bada bing, bada boom. It’s not rocket science.”
The coach eyes me without saying anything at first. And then, “I’m not even going to dignify that kind of stupidity with an explanation.”
The coach takes his leg off the bench and starts heading out. “Listen, make an appointment with Isabella Williams. She’s the head nutritionist and dietitian here. Meet with her, and she’ll get you all set up. Can you do that for me? Nod your head so that I know you’re listening and not singing rap songs in your head.”
Wow, this guy is a real smart ass.
“Coach, I know you think I’m just some hotshot asshole, but I know what I’m talking about when I say I don’t need a diet plan. I played just fine with the Bulls eating whatever the hell I wanted, and we were way better ranked.”
The coach is already heading out the door. As I continue shouting at him, he dismisses me with a wave of his hand as he stomps down the hall.
I look around at the other teammates, who all look at me silently with that look of judgment in their eyes. Why does everyone in this stupid town have that same expression? I sigh and shove my bag into my locker.
What the fuck is a diet plan?
