Chapter Twelve
Mitch swore. He couldn’t believe they’d lost the game. 14-6. A brutal loss, made worse because Simon had dropped the ball on the last play. Not that they might have won with fifty yards to go and some big-ass defensemen lying in wait, but the boy had taken the mistake to heart. Mitch saw tears in his eyes as he left the field.
“Hey kid, shake it off. You win some, you lose some.”
Simon held his head low and joined his teammates as they lined up to shake hands with the other team.
Mitch followed Deacon, who continued to swear under his breath. The refs hadn’t been the greatest, but hell, the team had been outplayed. It didn’t take a pro to see the truth. The other team had been better. Period.
On a positive note, the Cougars had youth on their side. Only five kids would graduate, and the majority of the team’s true talent had a good two or three more years to go.
At the end of the line, Deacon and his coaches shook hands with the opposing team’s staff. Unfortunately, Mitch recognized a douche when he saw one.
The Valley Warriors’ head coach smirked at Deacon. “Better luck next time, Flashman.” He looked behind the others to Mitch. “Hell. Even the great Flash couldn’t save your asses.” He laughed. “It was a pleasure.”
Mitch wanted to punch the guy in the face. Instead he said nothing.
“Yeah, we’re all about sportsmanship,” Deacon said in a loud voice, then shook the coach’s hand. More like squeezed his hand, because Mitch noticed the other coach wince before tugging his hand free.
“Sportsmanship? What is this? Kindergarten? ‘It’s all about how you play the game.’” The guy guffawed. “Get real. That’s what the losers say. It’s all about winning, and you know it. We wiped the field with your sorry asses.”
“Hey, Coach.” Mitch kept his voice light, pleasant. “How about you stop being such a dickhead and try to be an example to your team? Now, I could shove your head up your ass and embarrass you in front of everyone, but I’m not gonna do that because it wouldn’t look so good in front of our players.”
The adults around them grew quiet. Deacon swore. Mitch knew he should stop before any of the kids overheard, but the smug expression on the coach’s face made him throw caution to the win. Fuck it. He wasn’t on the payroll. What could they do to him?
Mitch continued, “It would go a long way if you could not be such a horse’s ass. Anyone can win and anyone can lose on any given day. Hell, the last Super Bowl could have gone either way, but we got lucky. Point is, it’s about the kids. Not about your ego or our NFL rings,” he said to include his brother in the conversation as well as show off.Yeah, suck on that, you jerk.“Now how about you go fuck off while we congratulate your boys on what a great job they did?”
Now flustered and red-faced, the coach took a step in his direction. Seriously? Mitch grinned at him.Bring it.
Deacon interceded.
“You know, Rothman, what my brother said pretty much goes for all of us. But don’t worry, Mitch won’t hit you.” He stepped right into Rothman’s personal space and in a lower voice warned, “But I might. You’re on my last nerve. Back the fuck off.”
Rothman turned and walked quickly away. Two of his coaches followed after glaring at them.
Everyone who remained, including Mitch, stared at Deacon. He hadn’t seen his brother so riled in a while, and Deacon had looked damn impressive. “Wow. Didn’t think you had it in you, you big wuss.”
The others laughed, and the tension around them faded.
The remaining rival team’s coaches apologized for Rothman’s behavior. Then Mitch and the others did as he’d promised, congratulating their opponents. As well as signing a few embarrassing autographs alongside his brother.
When they rejoined their own team inside the gym’s locker room, the boys sat waiting, expectant.
Before anyone could speak, Mitch stepped forward. “Hey, knuckleheads. It was a tough game. But I just wanted you to know, your coach is a badass.” He grinned, and several of the boys smiled with him. “He stood up for you and continues to stand up for you. So, before you start crying in private about the loss—and yeah, we’ve all been there, no shame in wanting to win—listen up.” He stepped back to let the real coaches speak.
Deacon, then Dorset, told the boys what a great job they’d done. Stan mentioned two of their more talented seniors having interest from a few colleges, which made everyone cheer.
Then Paglitelli had to go and turn everyone’s attention back to Mitch. “And let’s not forget to thank Flash for helping out this season.”
“It’s not about me,” Mitch tried, but Paglitelli talked over him.
Deacon smirked, knowing how much Mitch hated being praised.
Paglitelli wouldn’t shut up. “I’ve seen you guys get so much better this season. Now Coaches Stan, Dorset, and myself, we know the game inside and out. But having pro players like Deacon and Flash is a real plus. I don’t know if you guys realize how much they helped.” He turned to Mitch. “Thanks.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Mitch coughed. “Everybody get out and find your parents.”
“Make sure you check out with me before you go home,” Stan warned, in charge of making sure the boys safely departed.
