“First down, Tampa!” I hear the game day announcer as I’m standing on the sidelines, gasping for air. They just had to bring out the chains to measure the spot of the ball from my last run.
“Every time they do that shit, I hold my breath.” Chase comes up beside me. I haven’t seen much of him lately outside of games and practice, but he has a good reason. He’s busy being Super Dad.
“Every damn time.” I sigh just as I’m called back into the huddle.
After another quarter of the game gone, we’re still down by two scores, and if I’m being honest, it’s not looking good. Philadelphia gives us a run for our money every damn time and this new quick quarterback they have is a fucking magician with his footwork. Last year's draft class was stacked with talent, not that they aren’t every year, but these guys seem to be playing on a whole new level.
Once we’re down in the red zone and close to scoring, I get up and stand next to the offensive coordinator to get a better view of what’s going on. After the ball is snapped, Liam gets it out of his hands immediately. He throws towards the end zone where Ford is sprinting for his life to make it there in time for the catch. I pump my fist at my side when I see Ford come up from the back of the end zone holding the ball in his hands and the crowd erupts.
After a quick three and out by our defense, the offense is back on the field.
But something’s not right. My vision is spotty. I’m set up in the backfield behind Liam and instead of hearing the play he’s calling or seeing the ball he’s holding out for me, I hear ringing in my ears and I tense up. My body then moves like it’s on autopilot, but my mind isn’t focused one bit on what it’s doing. The only thing that snaps me back into the game is the powerhouse hit I take from Philly’s defense, knocking the ball out of my hands and laying me flat on my back.
My worst fear has officially come to a head.
It’s affecting my game. It’s affecting my focus. My concentration. To the point where I can’t even explain what just happened other than my body locked up and my heart started racing.
I lie there, hearing the echoing oohs and aahs from the fans as the play unfolds.
I’m not hurt. Nothing hurts.
But I’m done. At that moment, I know it. There’s no more hiding it. No more pretending like everything’s fine.
When I get back to the bench, all eyes are on me. I don’t need to look around to know it, I can feel it. I can feel the stares. Liam slaps me on the back and sits on one side of me while Ford takes up residence on the other.
“Don’t sit here and beat yourself up over it,” Ford says.
I don’t respond and neither of them say anything else, but they do sit there beside me for the remaining few moments of the game. It’s pretty fucking clear to everyone in America right now that something’s wrong with me. Too bad I don’t know what the hell it is.
The game ends with us on the losing end of it and I can’t stop blaming myself, even though the whole team has approached me since I’ve been in this locker room, assuring me that’s not the case. There’s no big speech for the team from Coach Aarons, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t saving one specifically for me. Lucky for him though, I’m already planning to meet with him. Because what happened today can’t ever fucking happen again.
“Coach!” I shout as I’m walking down the hall after him.
He slowly turns to face me, but doesn’t say anything. He just gestures for me to go into his office.
“Sit,” he says in a commanding tone.
“I’m sorry.” Throwing out an apology is the only way I know how to start this conversation.
“I don’t need an apology Campbell. I need my starting running back to be man enough, to be the leader I know he is, and admit when he has personal matters going on.” He paces his office, and fuck, I just feel bad.
“You could have been injured.”
“I know.” I sigh. “Coach, I don’t know what’s going on. That’s the truth. But something is off. I’m not feeling like myself, I haven’t for a while. This monster inside my head… in my chest… it keeps growing and I can’t shake it. I wish I could explain it better, but it’s just this weight I constantly feel on my chest. Like someone dropped a building on it and I can’t breathe. I wanted to go out there and be the best this season. I tried to just shove it all down, ignore it, play through it. The pressure has been killing me, though.” My eyes are burning as I stand up and continue talking to him.
“I–I can’t fucking believe I’m about to say this, but I need to step away. I need to get my mind right. And right now, I’m a liability to the team. I love this game, Coach. I love it, but I’m miserable and I need to figure out why.”
Pretending that you’re fine is easy until you actually accept that you aren’t.
And I’ve accepted it. Or better yet, it came slamming into my chest, opening my eyes to the realization that I can’t continue like I have been.
His head falls back and he lets out a shaky sigh. “I knew something was bothering you, I wish you would’ve told me sooner, but… I understand. Pride’s a funny thing when it comes to athletes. Take the time you need. Get your mind right. Your spot will be here when you’re ready. We have an in-house team therapist too, if you want to talk with her. And Campbell, I suggest you do.” Instead of a handshake, he pulls me into a hug and we just stand there for much longer than normal.
When I walk out of the facility tonight, Mia’s standing by the gate, her hands fidgeting with one another in front of her. Her eyes remain on me the entire time I walk over to her until I’m close enough to give her a hug, and she all but throws herself at me when she grabs a hold of my middle, pulling me into her.
The calming scent of lavender wafts off of her as I stand there inhaling the most familiar scent. I take slow, deep breaths while we stand there, replaying the game in my mind and the moment I told Coach that I need a break
I never in a million goddamn years thought I’d be the guy who has to take a break from football. Yet here I am, standing in the parking lot after admitting just that. If I can’t find a way to control this, it’s going to eat me alive, I know it. It’ll ruin every good thing I’ve ever accomplished professionally because that’ll be the conversation piece.
