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“You realize it’s afterten, right?”
I look over to see the offensive coordinator, Lewis, standing on the sideline, watching me throw balls down the field with no one there to catch them.
“I could say the same to you,” I retort, snagging another football off the rack before chucking it into the end zone. It hits the upright with a resounding ping and then falls to the ground.
“Fair.” He chuckles, stepping out onto the field. “Seriously, though.” He comes to a stop next to me, looking out at the array of footballs that now litter the field. “Why are you here so late? I mean, you’re always here late, but not quite this late.”
“I had to spend my evening sitting for an art student. Missed out on some practice time.”
“Ah, the project Coach Cook roped you all into.” He grabs his own ball, taking a couple steps back before throwing it down the field.
Lewis is younger than a lot of the other coaching staff, having just turned thirty-two last week, and like me, joined the team last season, so in a way, I kind of feel like he understands my position better than most.
“Yeah, that,” I grumble, snagging another ball.
“So you thought to come out here and get in an extra solo practice?”
“Couldn’t get any of the guys to agree to meet me this late. Figured a solo practice is better than no practice.”
“Anyone ever tell you that you work too hard?”
“Never.” I grin, throwing the ball just shy of the ten-yard line. “What about you? What’s your excuse for being here this late?”
“Some of the same. Was working on a few new plays, lost track of time.”
“Anything you want to share? I could use something new to practice.”
“Not yet, but soon.” He picks up a ball but instead of throwing it, hands it to me. “So, how was it?”
“How was what?”
“The art project thing.”
“Interesting.” It’s really the only way I can think to describe it.
“Interesting in a good way, or interesting in a bad way?”
“You know, I’m not quite sure I know,” I admit with a laugh. “Can I ask you something?”
“Shoot.”
“You’re a young guy in a very sought-after position. Do you feel like you had to sacrifice anything to get here?”
“Of course I did. Anything great requires some sacrifice. Why do you ask?”
“I just... I don’t know. Sometimes I wonder if I’m putting too much into this, you know. Like what if I get injured and it all goes away tomorrow, what do I have outside of this?”
“Where is this coming from?” He removes the Trojans ball cap sitting on his head, running his fingers through his dark hair before sliding it back into place.
“I don’t know. Just something I’ve been thinking about.”
“Listen, you’re one of the most talented guys I’ve ever met. Part of it is because you work harder than anyone else I know. But the other part is you’ve just got it. You’ve got that something special that sets you apart from everyone else. Do I think you’d be okay if your career ended tomorrow? I do. Because what you bring to this field, that’s instilled in you. You’ll find something else to sink that passion into, I have no doubt. But trust me on this one. Don’t waste your time worrying that it might all go away. Enjoy it while it lasts because whether it happens tomorrow or twenty years from now, one day it will end.” He clasps my shoulder, giving it a rough squeeze. “Now, if you’re asking me if you can afford to lighten up on yourself, then my answer is yes. It’s ten thirty, for fuck’s sake.”
“That isn’t what I was asking.” I snort. “Just wanted to know if you thought it was worth it.”
“If I had to do it all over again, I would do it the exact same if I knew I’d end up here in the end. Some things are worth the sacrifice.”
