HANSLEY
The dodgeball tournament might be bigger than I anticipated. I’ve had a recent surge of teams signing up from the football team. Since I couldn’t bring myself to speak to Lemon again, wanting to avoid the hate he spews every time he opens his mouth, I reached out to who appears to be his true assistant coach,—Norman Wiley.
Norman confirmed Lemon had a change of heart once members of the team asked if they could join in on the department-wide events that we’re putting on.
To say I was shocked at this news doesn’t quite express just how surprised I was at this turn of events. I’m not an overly suspicious person, but I can’t help but think that he’s up to something. The unsettled feeling is so strong that I stop into Alka’s office and run it by him. Looking for his opinion on what Lemon is up to.
“Lemon enjoys being liked by the students, especially his athletes. He doesn’t give a fuck about anyone else as long as the students like him,” Alka says. “On one hand, I can’t help but admire his dedication to them. He’s here for them. His job is his team. On the other, I don’t think anyone would mind him dropping his attitude toward everyone else.”
“Which means the only reasonable explanation is that one of his athletes asked to join,” I muse.
Alka shrugs, nodding. “That would be my guess.”
With this knowledge, I head back to my office. Moments like this are when it’s inconvenient to be off in my own land inside the hockey arena instead of with the rest of the department. Not that I mind the walk. Who knew coaching had so much desk work?!
I’m answering emails and still contemplating this when there’s a knock on my door. Warily, I turn. “Come in.”
Relief floods me when it’s a student, even if one I’m unfamiliar with. She smiles. “Hi, Coach. I’m Carly.”
“Hello,” I greet, sitting back. “I’m Hansley.”
She grins wider. “I know.” I chuckle. “Do you have a minute?”
I nod and gesture for the chair. Unlike Lemon’s office, mine looks like a typical coach’s office if I’ve ever seen one. It’s functional as opposed to… colorful and soft. I guess.
Carly takes a seat and places a piece of paper in her lap. I glance at it and immediately recognize what she has. A smile climbs my face.
“I’m not sure if you’re aware, but this semester, a teacher sponsorship program is being launched,” she says with a smirk.
“I’m familiar.”
“Would you consider listening to my pitch?”
I nod. “Please.”
“My name is Carly Thompson and I’m an attack on our lacrosse team, the Dragons. I’m studying to be a veterinarian and hope to work on my family farm one day. I currently have a 3.47 GPA, I volunteer at the local vet clinic on weekends, and have started a new club this year that goes around to shelters and rescues to help them walk their animals.
“While my studies are covered by a sports scholarship, a couple small grants, and a loan for the remainder, I’m oneof three children and I’d really love to not graduate with a mortgage sized debt hanging over my head. Some of the most expensive aspects of being an athlete are the fees and eating right. While the school food is decent, it’s not geared toward healthy so much as quick and filling. We’re often left supplementing with fresh vegetables, fruits, protein, and other things.”
I remember that all too well from college. Food was always a source of frustration. While most of us had room and board covered, the food just wasn’t what we needed as an athlete. That’s not saying it was bad. It definitely wasn’t. Especially considering I attended a college with an exceptional culinary arts program and they often ran the cafeteria.
But they weren’t focused on an athletic diet. They were focused on feeding the masses.
“I’m wondering if you’ll be interested in sponsoring me as a student athlete,” Carly continues and hands me her paper. “There’s no pressure if you decide you’d rather not. And if you choose to, please don’t feel like you have to contribute to the top tier. I’m appreciative of any support. If you decide that this isn’t for you, I understand and offer my thanks for taking the time to hear me out.”
I’m rather impressed by her sheet. She kept the format that we’d agreed on but personalized it so that it very clearly represents her and her personality. She has three tiers of supporting options with a detailed list of what that amount of money will fund for her this year. I’m not surprised to find that a majority of it is going to healthy foods that feed an athlete’s muscles and energy requirements.
She’s honest about needing new workout clothes, new cleats, a new stick. There are also things that she’s promising to give me in return—a poster of her so that I can proudly display that I’m supporting her this year. A Thompson lacrosse jersey, number71. And a few other things so I can make others aware that sponsoring student athletes is important and commendable.
She will also frequently wear representation of me and my department, which means hockey. As a thank you and in support.
I nod, pulling out my phone and scanning the QR code. I purchase the highest tier.
Carly’s grinning at me. “Thank you, Coach. I really appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome. I’m impressed that you asked me.”
Her smile is beaming as she offers me a few stickers. They say “I support a student athlete” with a set of crossed lacrosse sticks. She’s written her name on it too, with little stars and hearts.
