“No, I just meant with Abby spending all of her time with Ford… I just assumed you missed going out and doing girl things.” I take a deep breath and lead us down towards the river trail. There are a few restaurants down there and as long as they don’t have an endless wait time, I could go for some food.
“Oh. Well… I’m excited for Summer to be here, but not because I miss going out all the time. She’s more of a homebody than I am, actually. But I guess having another close friend to call will take some of the burden off of you.” She shrugs and I place my hand out in front of her, stopping us right there in the middle of the sidewalk. I turn my eyes towards her, making sure she’s looking at me before I speak.
“That’s not even close to what I meant and you know it.” I stare at her intensely, making sure she understands that I never intended for my comment to make her feel like I wanted a break from us, from this. “Spending time with you is my favorite part of any day. I’ll actually take offense if you try to replace me.” I squeeze her shoulders and let out a subtle laugh.
Mia’s throat moves up and down, and I watch her take a deep breath. Her eyes meet mine and we hold a slightly burning stare for a moment before she nods her head and shrugs herself out of my embrace.
“Oh, you’re not getting rid of me. I’ll still be calling you for every minor inconvenience.” A flash of humor crosses her face and our steps fall back into rhythm as we continue to walk. Mia maneuvers her body in front of me to let a woman with a stroller pass us and then tries to move to my left. My fingers instinctively grip the sides of her arms gently and I guide her back over to the inside of the sidewalk.
“How are you, Campbell?” Coach Aarons asks the second I step into the weight room this morning. His clipboard tight at his side, black and white windbreaker securely fastened as if he’s expecting rain. Again with this question.
“Morning, Coach. I’m doing alright,” I answer, reaching for more forty-five-pound barbell weights to stack on the end of each rack.
His stare follows me as I walk from either side of the weight rack, I can feel his eyes on me. A suspicious line formed at the corners of his mouth. Almost like he wants to say something, but he’s holding it back. When I glance over at him, his expression stills and grows serious.
“Something wrong, Coach?”
“Campbell,” he says my name with depth and authority. And it has me on the edge of my seat for what’s to follow. But then, just as quickly as his expression becomes serious, it softens and he shakes his head. “I just wanted to check in. I want to make sure you’re alright.” His hand slaps my shoulder and he turns to walk out.
I know that I hit the jackpot with my head coach. He gives us space, but also makes it clear he’s there if we need him for personal issues, and on top of that he’s just a fantastic football coach, what more could anyone ask for? Even if I haven’t exactly taken him up on his offers to talk, I know if I really need to, if I get to that point, I can.
Focus.
Breathe.
Relax.
I repeat those three words over and over through the entirety of my workout today. I don’t know how to admit that I’m in over my head. I don’t know how much longer I can keep up the facade that everything is just fine, when I can feel that it’s not. Everything just keeps building and building—the anxiety, the pressure… I feel it all physically. The pain in my chest, the tremors in my hands, I’m trying to hide it all, but truth be told, I’m fucking terrified that I won’t be able to hide it much longer. Especially the physical parts. And my job relies entirely on me catching a ball.
Not knowing how to deal with all of this isn’t just angering, it’s scary. Everything I once loved about the game is a distant memory because of how clouded my mind has become. The pressure disrupts my performance, it makes my heart race, makes it hard to breathe sometimes. I can’t think clearly in situations where I need to and that impacts how I play on the field. Football is such a decision driven game. I have to be on the same page as my quarterback. I have to be in sync with my team. And the pressure lately has become so overwhelming, the anxiety nearly paralyzing.
Just as I’m finishing up, one of the rookies grabs me before I leave. Alex Farr is a great player. I watched his combine and he did well enough in training camp and the pre-season to secure himself a spot on the fifty-three-man roster.
“Fuck, man. Learning this system is so much harder than when I was at college.” Alex sighs, gripping the bar in front of him.
“Yeah, no shit. It’s the big leagues,” I bark out.
“This is incredible though.” He exhales with a long sigh of contentment.
“It is. A lot of it is. But don’t get too distracted by the fairytale. It’s not easy, there will be chatter. People who constantly root for you to fail, or at least always mention your failures orshortcomings. The game can get to you. Hell, life can get to you.” He glances in my direction. “Fuck, I probably don’t sound too motivational right now.” I chuckle, internally recognizing that I don’t belong in a conversation right now where a rookie is looking for encouragement. I’m not the guy for that job.
“You’re being realistic. I appreciate that. Whatever they say about you is just noise, though. You’re not just good at what you do, you’re great at it, man. I don’t doubt this shit is a mental load just as much as it is physical. Either way, it’s got to be rewarding. Do you know how many kids I saw in the stands with your jersey at the last home game? If I can have half the admiration and career you’ve had in just six years, I’ll consider myself lucky.”
I stand there with both hands on my hips, thinking. When’s the last time I took a moment to look around in the stands and take everything in? I’ve been so distracted by my own battle that I’ve barely given a second thought to anything else.
Farr’s new to all of this. Everything he’s seeing and experiencing is all with a fresh set of eyes. He’s still walking onto the field awestruck. Still battling for his spot. But when he mentions the kids in the stands, that’s something I’ve overlooked for a while. I know it. I used to be those kids. Wearing my favorite player’s jersey every Sunday, even if I wasn’t at a game, and I was just watching it in the den with my old man.
I laugh, shaking my head. “You know, it’s funny… or maybe it’s not actually, but I used to be that kid. We all were at some point, right? Living and breathing for our favorite player, our favorite team. The rush and the highs, the lows and heartbreaks. I still remember when Joe Deer dropped that pass in the Super Bowl with Green Bay. I was ten. We lost and I was fucking devastated. I think I even cried.” Another laugh reaches the surface. “But the next day, I was still out there wearing his jersey, proud as hell.”
“That’s the thing about kids, man. They’re resilient. They’re going to come back rooting even harder the next time. They teach us how to love it. All of it. Even the shit parts.” Alex slaps my back as he heads towards the door.
Even the shit parts.
When I was seventeen, I was on the Varsity football team my junior year of high school. We were in the state championship game. I wasn’t a starter at the time, but our starting running back got hurt on a play. A bad hit right at his knees, he had to be carted off the field. He ended up tearing his ACL. My coach called me up to him at the sidelines and I remember feeling excited. Nervous since I hadn’t played a lot that season, but so fucking excited. He placed his hands on my shoulder pads and looked me in the eye when he spoke. He told me it was my turn, that I was being called up.
He said,“A lot of the greats are guys who’ve come off the bench. Go be great.”
Since that game I’ve always been a starter.
