I ran through the drills today like it was a walk in the park. I felt like I could hit the route with my eyes closed and still come down with the catch.
“Anderson! Great hands today!” Coach Aarons gives me a fist bump as we walk back to the locker room.
Being a tight end in the NFL is the only career I’ve ever envisioned for myself, football has been my life for the last twenty years. Everything I’ve done throughout my childhood and my time in college was to prepare me for a career in the NFL and I don’t take this opportunity lightly. You can easily be replaced when you’re in the league, no one is untouchable. I’ve been playing professionally for the Tampa Knights now for five years and I feel like I’ve finally reached my prime. Like what I’m doing is actually contributing to the success of the team and I want to keep that momentum going as long as I can.
We’re about to start the regular season with our home opener against a division rival and there’s no better feeling than the rush of that first home game. The fans are on their feet and the stadium is electric. I fucking live for that shit.
“Coming over Saturday, Anderson?” Chase Hunt, one of our defensive linemen, slaps my back as I’m taking off my pads.
“Come hang out for a beer and a game of poker. Let me and Evans take all that money they’re paying you.” He flashes me a smile.
I shake my head and laugh at him. “Yeah, you fuckers wish.”
I rarely go out during the season. Don’t get me wrong, I’m close with my teammates and have good relationships with all of them, it’s just a personal choice. Limiting my distractions during the season has always just been something I’ve lived by.
After hitting the showers, I throw on some shorts and a gray t-shirt before grabbing my bag and heading out of the facility. “I’ll swing by, Hunt!” I call out to Chase before turning the corner to head down the hall.
One of my teammates, Nate Campbell, is walking out of Coach Aarons’ office at the same time. He was drafted to Tampa the same year that I was and we’ve become pretty close over the years. Suiting up beside one of the best running backs in the league is a nice position to be in, he’s a force on the field.
I nod my head in his direction. “What’s that about? Everything good?” Nate shakes his head and puts both hands on his hips as I approach him.
“Fucking ball security, I need to do better.” He can steam roll through defensive lines like a bull, but he’s had a rough camp and preseason with a few fumbles.
“Don’t get in your own head about it. Tuck it and just barrel through like I’ve seen you do hundreds of times.”
I slap his back and try to give him an encouraging nod. Nate’s always so hard on himself when he screws up. He’s one of those annoyingly positive people most of the time, but when he makes a mistake, he dwells on it. Understanding that this game is just as much mental as it is physical is something I learned quickly and I’ve been trying to drill it into him since we got drafted.
“Hunt’s, Saturday.” I point to him and he nods his head while he walks past me to the locker room.
Pulling into my driveway, I click my remote to open the garage. Home sweet home. I lived in an apartment up until three months ago. Right after last season ended, I decided I was tired of living downtown, and thankfully landed a nice contract extension, so it made sense to officially plant some roots. Buying a house out by the water is one of the best decisions I’ve made. Being a little secluded and living moments from the beach does me good.
Once I’m inside I toss my bag on the laundry room floor and make my way into the kitchen. There are leftovers in the refrigerator that have been calling my name all fucking day. After heating up the food and puttingCaptain Americaon TV, I throw my feet up on the couch. I’m exhausted and my body is aching. Having some peace and quiet in this big empty house right now is just what I need to relax after today.
“Oh, come on,” I yell as someone cuts me off and I have to slam on the breaks. The traffic in Tampa this morning seems worse than Miami and my patience is running thin. Today is the first day of school teaching in a new town for me. I'm not really nervous, mostly excited and I’d just like to get there on time. I take a deep breath to try and “woosah” the frustration of this traffic away. Finally, I’m pulling into the school parking lot with fifteen minutes to spare.
Heading inside my classroom, I’m met with the smell of cleaning products and fresh paint. Seems like they did some touch up work over the weekend. All of my bags practically fall from my hands down onto the desk and I take a look around the space I’ve spent the last few weeks decorating and organizing for the students. Giving myself a moment to soak it in, I slowly inhale and exhale. This change feels good, it feels right. I’m determined to make this year my best yet. I’m convinced it can’t be worse than last year and seeing as I don’t live in the same town as my ex anymore, this year already has a leg up in that area.
When I applied for this teaching position, there was no plan other than “get out of Miami.” So when this job was posted, I jumped at applying. If anything, I hoped that living closer to my family and hometown again would be helpful for me both mentally and emotionally. Although it turns out that living alone in Tampa isn’t cheap. So, once I got the job, I called my brother to see if he’d mind me staying with him while looking for a place of my own, and realistically to give me time to save some money. He’s about to start football season so his schedule will be getting busy, but that also means he has stretches of time where he isn’t even there. So, the chances of us getting on each other’s nerves much are pretty slim.
As the students start filtering into the classroom, I greet each one with a smile and direct them to their seats. I did my best to make the classroom as fun and inviting as possible with the small window of time I had after moving. The students' desks are set up in clumps of four and there are uplifting and motivational quotes plastered all around the room. After a few meetings with the principal, he filled me in on some of the struggles the community sees and shared some less than ideal situations that some of the kids are in at home. I assured him that it’s important to me that at least while these kids are in my classroom, they have a stable and welcoming environment.
The final bell rings and the students are chatting amongst themselves. Since it’s the first day and with this being my first year at this school, I suggest we start off with a few of those first day exercises. The ones where you get to know a little about each other.
“Well, good morning, my name is Ms. Hunt, but of course you know that.” Laughing to myself. Maybe I’m a little more nervous than I thought. “I enjoy being outside and going to the beach. I like the color purple and lilies are my favorite flowers. I love cookie dough ice cream and Christmas time.”
A little boy with blonde curly hair and the brightest blue eyes raises his hand. “Do you like vanilla ice cream with sprinkles on the top?”
I love how specific children can be. They will say pretty much whatever comes to mind, and there’s something so innocent and freeing about it. As adults, we don’t tend to do that. We’ll spend time stewing in our own thoughts wondering something about someone and just making our own assumptions rather than just flat out asking the questions on our mind.
“I do like vanilla ice cream with sprinkles on top, but do you want to know what I really love?” My eyes widen for dramatic effect and the kids are all sitting up in their seats hanging on my every word. “I even add peanut butter to it sometimes too.”
One of the little girls blurts out, “That doesn’t sound very healthy.” I laugh at her honesty.
“Well, maybe not,” I say. “But sometimes a special treat is okay.”
Once almost all of the children go around the room, it feels like I’ve gotten to know quite a bit about them. They all love ice cream and all hate green beans. Sounds about right for twenty-four six-year-old children. There’s one little girl left to go and she’s slumped down in her desk chair with her jacket hood on over her head.
“I’m Harper…” She trails off as if she doesn’t have much more to say, but I give her a nod trying to encourage her to go on.
