“Captain’s been through shit the past couple years,” Crew tells Ziggy.
“Haven’t seen him happy in a while,” Porter adds.
“It’s like he came back to life even though he’s been walking around on crutches,” Zander says. “I’d be a shit show if I was on crutches. But he’s been happy. Guessing it’s not the broken foot effect. So that means it’s you.”
Crew nods. “And that means we’re your guys for whatever it takes to win your family over and not have our captain get fired when your stepdad finds out.”
I swallow the lump at the base of my throat. “Just don’t tell anybody while we figure this out.”
“Lame,” Silas says.
Fletcher nods. “Fuckwanker’s right. We can do a lot better than not tell anybody.”
“You two have a very strange relationship,” Ziggy says.
“He’s a whiny-ass baby,” Fletcher says, jerking a head at Silas.
“He’s a stuck-up bossy shithead,” Silas replies.
“But I make his sister happy.”
“The day he cheats on her, he’s a dead man, and I’ll enjoy every minute of torturing him before I murder him.”
“We’re on a truce until one of us dies because I’m never doing another thing in my life to make Goldie anything less than ecstatically happy.”
“Can we focus on the captain and his lady?” Zander says to them.
Silas hooks a thumb at Fletcher. “He started it.”
“You must truly be a superhero if you convince these guys to play nicely together on the field,” Ziggy says to me.
“Pitch,” everyone replies at once.
Ziggy stifles another smile, and once again, I’m positive she used the wrong word on purpose.
Glorious woman.
She gets them all back on the same page so easily.
“Pitch,” she says. “Apologies. Your pitchinesses.”
“We wouldn’t get along for another captain,” Fletcher says. “I’ll make sure everyone knows if Captain goes, this team’s never making the playoffs again because I’m quitting.”
“You’re old,” Silas fires back. “They’d just retire your ass if you said that.”
“And then I’d be your boss from the office.”
“Unless you go work for league headquarters,” Porter says. He looks at me. “So those two are out, but don’t worry, Cap’n. The rest of us will still help.”
“Lots of talking about how much we like playing under your leadership,” Crew says.
Zander nods. “And we’ll get you back out on the volunteer circuit for some community recognition. Make it so you’re selling more tickets than Fletcher does.”
Fletcher snorts. “Not likely. But I’ll give you credit for half the tickets I sell.”
“How do you even track that?” Ziggy asks.
Fletcher whips out his phone. “Selfie,” he commands, and half the guys lean in, showing off their Copper Valley Scorned soccer jerseys or flashing peace signs.
