I’m going to pass out. This can’t be happening.
The room claps. I see the head coach, my teammates, some of the best players in the National Football League, cheering me on.
“I’d like to say something,” Benny requests, still in a cast but starting to join team meetings while he’s working on his recovery. Everyone turns their attention to him, the guy who is supposed to be the secret weapon on special teams, one of the most sought-after kickers in the league before his injury, as he adds, “Blair, thank you. When I went down…” He looks at his leg and continues, “I felt like I leteveryonedown. But then you appeared. And I don’t know what it is about you, but it’s like you’ve got some magic or something. We’re having a hell of a season and we couldn’t have done it without you.”
Benny claps, still standing. And one by one, everyone stands to join him. Until I’m the only one sitting. It’s overwhelming. I’m about to cry for sure. And the amount of encouragement in this room? My god, it’s what I hope for every athlete.
It feels like they want me to say something, and maybe that’s what will end this. As amazing as it is, being the center of attention is never my go-to.
Slowly, I stand and I swallow past the tears that are threatening to spill. I wouldn’t feel bad about crying in front of my team, especially after this showing of appreciation, but I try not to.
“Thank you. This is all,” I look around, taking in the whole room, impossible to catalog all the faces, “very kind. I just want to say thank you for letting me in. I know how hard it is to be part of a team but I have to say, you all made it so easy. Thank you for that. And, Go Cosmos.” I shrug my shoulders as the room erupts into cheers.
Coach Dylan lets us go and I wait for the room to empty before walking down towards him.
He greets me by reaching out a hand, I take it, and he shakes. “Blair, you’re one hell of an athlete. Be proud of this.”
Then I hug him. It’s the only way I can think to really thank him.
“Thanks, Coach.”
“Shedidn’tjustbecomethe first woman to score in the NFL—she became the reason girls now imagine themselves in cleats, not just in thecrowd,” Mags says while we’re on a FaceTime call, her face fills my MacBook—I needed the bigger screen for the bigger conversation.
Covering my eyes, I say, “I know. I KNOW. The article is ridiculously good. Like, I didn’t even think I was this cool.” I play it off.
“Would you stop? This is amazing! You’re on the cover. Have you seen all the stuff online?” Mags’ excitement is something I can feel, almost like if she’s in the room.
“No, I’ve been avoiding it. I can’t take it. Good or bad.”
“Well, let me give you the highlights. First, a bunch of teams in the NFL are trying to plan youth camps for girls. They’re trying to introduce them to football and other sports earlier and at the same caliber as the boys. Amazing! And I’m sure you’ve heard about the donations to Athlala.” She plays with the end of her long blond ponytail.
I shake my head, knowing nothing.
“Ever since your article was released, Athlala has received almost a million dollars in donations from professional sports teams and athletes. They love the mission. Love how you got your start with the gym. These are not small peanuts things… These are life changing, needle moving improvements.”
My mouth hangs open and I shimmy my shoulders, trying not to cry. “Wow. I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t say anything! You take a minute to be proud of yourself.”
“Okay, I’ll try.”
“Well, besides all of this and you and Tyson tying the knot, what else is new?” She pokes fun, sticking her tongue out at me.
I roll my eyes, close enough to the camera that she can see it. I don’t even know where she’s at currently—professional tennis keeps her jet-setting all over the world.
“Actually, I’m looking at a location next week. For the next Embers and Ashes. One is a spot in Manhattan and the other is in a city about forty-five minutes from here.”
Mags’ eyes are wide and she claps, the sound a little delayed through the screen. “Damn! Look at you… dreams coming true and all that.”
“I’m just hoping I can sustain this. I won’t have another check from the NFL but I do have some brand meetings next week. Claire’s excited about a few of them, maybe because she’ll finally cash a check.”
Mags laughs. “Claire doesn’t work with anyone she doesn’t want to. Believe me. She can be picky. Lean into her, she’s one of the best managers around. Plus, she’s not hurting for money, I know that much.”
“Okay, enough about me. Tell me, what’s new in the tennis world.”
I’m desperate for a topic shift—I’m not used to this. While Mags jumps into the latest tennis drama and happenings, there’s one thing I can’t stop thinking about.
I know I’m lucky. Part of me wonders when my luck will run out.
