“Nine seven, nine seven!” I hear my number from the opposing side of the field. The quarterback sees me on the edge completely unblocked and alerts his team of my looming presence.
Once he spikes the ball, he immediately scrambles to his right, causing me to follow. Instead of moving east and west on the field, he moves up and down. He’s back at least fifteen yards now from the line of scrimmage and he’s looking everywhere trying to find an open receiver. I can feel my knees aching as I follow his quick movements, until finally I’m able to sack him. I pin my body against his, hearing the collision of our pads and helmets, hoping the ball was also knocked out, but no such luck. He’s gripping it like his life depends on it, and I stand, offering my hand to help him to his feet since it’s just the two of us this far back into the field.
“Fucking got me.” The quarterback smiles, spitting out blood as he lifts his helmet.
“I’m coming again,” I taunt, clapping my hands as I turn to jog back down the field.
I’ve always loved being a defensive player. Back in college, they’d use me as an offensive tackle every now and then, which I didn’t hate, but there’s nothing like running toward your opponent like you’re ready to snap their neck.
A few more downs and we’re off the field, securing a win and a nice break for a bye week coming up that my body desperately needs. I’ve been slacking on my recovery this season, but trying to find extra time has been hard when my only option is really just asking Summer to stay later.
I head into the locker room to get showered and changed, and Coach Aarons gives us his post-game speech, handing methe game ball. I don’t get nostalgic often, but there are still small things that happen at this level that bring me back to being younger. Getting a game ball is one of them.
The game became my obsession when I really started treating it like a job back in high school. My dad would run drills with me every chance he had, my parents bought me all the shit I needed in order to practice at home when I wasn’t practicing at school. Simply put, it became the love of my life. I’d have some of the most ridiculous superstitions before games, some I still do now. Always using a certain coffee mug on game days, not wearing any eye black under my eyes, same socks every game. When I was in college, I remember having a giant bowl of ramen noodles the night before every game. I’d combine three packages and just inhale it.
My dad would tell me how bad they were for me all the time. Fuck, he’d tell me how bad most of the food I ate was. Meat and vegetables were in every single meal he ate, and eventually, I started listening to him and eating better. I dropped weight in college, gained muscle and ultimately worked my ass off to make sure I got drafted. It was as much his dream as it was mine, but I always knew if I wanted to step away he wouldn’t question it.
I often think of what he’d say about my situation now. A single dad wasn’t exactly what he would’ve expected, but I like to think he’d be proud of me for the way things have turned out.
He’s everything I strive to be as a father. He was patient, kind, loving, and supportive. But also strong and hardworking. There wasn’t a thing my dad couldn’t fix. From scraped knees all the way to rebuilding decks and making a home where nothing but dirt once sat.
You don’t think about all of the things that go into being a parent until you become one. And we often don’t truly appreciate the sacrifices of our own until we’re in their shoes. I’m humbled as a parent. As a man. When I was a kid, I’d lookat my dad and see Superman. How the hell could he do it all and still sleep? Still eat? Still have time for himself? I realize now that he simply chose to make me and my sister the priority.
Thinking about it now, I know he was tired. He’d pull into the driveway close to six at night, after working since seven in the morning and he’d still get me to my football games on time. He’d stay up late fixing a screen I broke when I was being a damn idiot with my friends. There’s just so much we don’t truly see as kids. It wasn’t until I had CeCe that I understood what unconditional love was.
He wasn’t even someone who dropped that word often now that I think of it. But he said it every day.
“Here’s twenty, put gas in your tank.”
“Let me know when you get to that party.”
“Your tire looks low, son. Fill’er up.”
“Are you feeling okay?”
He said it the only way he knew how.
Chase
Hey, I’m sorry for asking you this last minute when I just told you I wouldn’t need help for a week, but any chance you can watch CeCe today?
An impromptu text from Chase comes through, surprising me to say the least. We spoke briefly after his game the other day and he was very adamant that he would see meafterthe bye week. I laughed, knowing that lately we’ve been seeing more of each other than normal, and it’s clear that my presence is starting to take its toll on him.
If you miss me, just say that
Chase
I don’t.
I won’t tell anyone
Chase
Kincaid.
What time should I be there?
It’s a far cry to assume he asked me instead of his sister, but Abby’s been so caught up in what she has going on, I’ve barely seen her. I’m just glad she’s doing what she feels is best for her and Ford.
