Coach sighs and says, “We are,” squeezing the bridge of his nose.
“How? Season passes are up twenty percent. Same with merch. Last year’s playoff appearance and the PSN deal have given us more visibility. They show league games on the network now.” I don’t mean to scowl, but he better look at his notes again and carry the two.
The RLA, or Rugby League of America, is still young. There are ups and downs in the seventh season—shitty pay and short-term contracts that create more questions than job security—but the eleven teams that represent professional rugby in the US give their all on the pitch.
“We bust our asses,” I bark.
“I know.” He sighs. “Miami is gone.”
“What?”
“So is New Orleans and LA. Utah is at risk, but their finance department is confident that play will continue for at least another season.”
The blow of dropping to an eight-team league is a shot to the chest. There are good people on the receiving end of those decisions. Guys with families who work two and three jobs. Staff who pour into us and put us back together.
“Fuck.” I run a hand through my waves.
Coach’s frown deepens. “We have enough money in our budget to grab one player. The others…” He forces out a breath and leans into his chair. “It’s fucked up. The RLA is shortening the season from sixteen games to twelve. We’ll still have our bye weeks, and you’ll play five teams twice. One home game and one away.”
Simon Washington is one of the best coaches I’ve had since I picked up a rugby ball as a kid. He played overseas for years as a flanker before retiring and joining the Steel in a coachingcapacity. He’s a stand-up guy who believes in transparency and wants what’s best for the team.
“What aren’t you telling me?” Three teams collapsing and another on the brink of stepping away from competition isn’t the reason he called me in before strength and conditioning.
He considers me, the stress evident in his light brown eyes.
Frank Mancini.
Buffalo Steel owner and one of the biggest pricks in the game.
Our team is an afterthought, another item in his large portfolio of investments. Mancini has his hand in everything, with real estate being his primary focus. He doesn’t come to games, barely pays players, and gives minimal health coverage during the season.
The RLA needs a players’ union to fight predators like him.
“Mancini might offload the Steel,” Coach reveals.
I huff and rub my jaw. “What should I tell the guys?”
“Nothing for now. It’s still speculation. Analysts have us as a favorite to win this year, which should help. Let’s focus on the season as planned.” He eyes me. “If I hear anything more permanent, we’ll have the talk. This is more than a job to me. The team is family. I wanted to tell you what I know, but I don’t want the guys getting in their heads with this shit.”
If the Steel was to fold, I’d be okay. Between my investment portfolio and the security of the family business, I’m set. But that’s a privilege not afforded to most players in this league.
There’s no pension, and sponsorship opportunities are limited. The market for rugby in the United States is small. The league needs more time to develop, and we deserve an owner who’s invested in us as much as we are in the game.
“We’ll leave it on the pitch like we always do.” I stand and dab Coach.
“I appreciate you, Antonio. You’re a good captain. I’m sorry we have to deal with this shit, but I’ll do what I can from my end.For now, keep up the good work. The more wins and publicity we get, the more we have a shot at getting another season.”
“Will do.”
I head to the locker room to get ready for the day, pushing the fate of the Steel to the back burner. It’s what I do best, take on stress so the people around me don’t have to worry about it.
If Mancini needs a show to remind him who the fuck we are, he’ll get one.
They all will.
Chapter 17
Miriam
