She is nothing like I imagined her to be. She looks like one of those cute girls that works at the cool T-shirt store in the mall, not a high-powered NFL Human Resources executive. I can see why Rush was sleeping with her. She’s absolutely gorgeous, totally badass, and I’m majorly intimidated.
Miranda stares at my cane for a moment and then back at me.
“Welcome to Nighthawk’s camp.”
I turn my head around and take in all the awesomeness of this moment.
“Thanks! The campus is gorgeous.”
“We have more ground to cover today, so I brought the golf cart. No need to mess up a perfectly good pair of sneakers if we don’t have to. The ground is still soft from the rain the other day.”
“Perfect.”
I’m grateful for the ride because now that I look at the vast size of the training campus, there’s probably no way I could have walked the entire way without slowing Miranda down. The distance from the field to the training buildings is quite long, and for a brief moment I second guess my ability to physically do this job.
Have I overestimated the task?
Am I setting myself up for failure?
My doubts slowly dissipate and my eagerness to learn the job blossoms as Miranda continues to show me around camp.
“The Nighthawks have been getting ready for the season in this facility for over fifteen years. We make regular updates and modifications to the buildings, and all of our equipment is state-of-the art. You’ll find that our training facility rivals most NFL teams’ camps.”
I’ve worked with athletes for many years as a student and now as a therapist, but there is a level of professionalism and privilege here that is beyond what I’ve ever experienced. This is why working for a pro team is the “new” dream. I feel like I’m going to be quickly forced to step up my game and I look forward to it.
I notice small groups of players running various drills on the field, which reminds me of a question to ask Miranda.
“I see they practice on real grass. Does that make a difference in the amount of turf toe or high ankle sprain injuries that you see when the season starts and they play on artificial turf in other cities?”
Miranda looks impressed by my question.
“Honestly, I don’t know the answer to that,” she admits. “Scott and the rest of the team you’ll be working with will have those answers. Be sure to ask him.”
Scott is my immediate supervisor, but I haven’t met him yet. The NFL works very differently than my previous employer. I would have never been hired at Phoenixville without interviewing with my supervisor first, but I guess that’s how things work on this level.
“Let’s go meet Scott now.”
A few heads turn as we drive the golf cart towards the main training building.
“Don’t mind them,” Miranda says. “They’re harmless. They just don’t see that many women out here so they can’t help but stare.”
“I can’t wait for the day when seeing women on the field will be uneventful. Soon, it’ll be commonplace to see female therapists, trainers and coaches in the NFL,” I comment.
“If it’s going to happen, then I’m sure it will be with the Nighthawks. We have a very progressive owner. It’s part of the reason why we hired you.”
Oh, that makes sense. Being a woman could be the one advantage I had over all the rest of the candidates. I’ll never know for sure, but I think that’s what Miranda is hinting at.
“I’ve read that about Mr. Parker. It’s good to know that there is truth to the stories that he’s looking to make progressive changes in the league. Do you think I’ll ever meet him?”
“Mr. Parker is pretty hands-on, but the truth is if we win, then you may meet him, but if we have a losing season, you definitely won’t.”
I grow a little nervous when we get to the training center. My knee feels great today and I rather not attract any extra attention by carrying my cane with me, so I leave it in the cart. Honestly, I should have never taken it out of the car to begin with, but it’s habit at this point.
Miranda notices but still doesn’t address it, no doubt being respectful of my privacy. I like her even more because of that. I’m going to have to have a long conversation with Rush about her later. I want to know the real scoop about these two.
We walk in what feels like a labyrinth of hallways and rooms. There are designated areas for every treatment you could imagine: steam rooms, acupuncture area, ice bath room, massage section, strength training room, cardio area. The place is massive and a therapist’s dream. There is room to execute a complicated treatment plan here without having to step all over each other’s toes like we did at my old job.
We arrive to the main physical therapy room where I’m to meet my coworkers.
