I was forty-one weeks pregnant.
I was holding on by the skin of my teeth.
I was one jolt away from dropping this baby out of my vagina like a broken paper sack of groceries.
I was two centimeters dilated and fifty percent effaced.
I was so close to giving birth that I could taste it.
My husband was freaking out, hence why he was sitting on the bench with me scowling hard.
He was also my bodyguard.
Well, self-imposed bodyguard.
He knew that this coach and I got into it almost every single game we played together.
The tradition held strong.
And, even worse, they’d moved into our district two years ago so I now had to play them. I had zero choice.
Each time we played them, things went wrong.
Though, not nearly as wrong as the one three years ago when shit had literally hit the fan.
But still, fights on the field. Injuries that should’ve never happened. Purposefully hurting my players.
I hated this fucking coach.
I hated his players, too. But they were only a product of their coach.
“Today, we’re going to play clean and safe. I will call fouls. I will make sure to pay attention to retaliation, too.”
I listened to the center ref’s words and tried not to roll my eyes when Coach Jerkoff nodded and promised to behave.
Lies.
This was going to get out of hand.
But my girls were ready.
They had played three years against this asshole and his team. They knew his tricks and they knew not to get caught with retaliation.
I waddled back to my team and my players, and they all stood.
Bossy got in close, leaning her head against my shoulder.
Bossy’s best friend did the same on my right, and I snorted.
“Play clean. Play hard. Play Lobo ball.”
They all nodded.
“Hands in.”
Hands were in.
“On three. One, two, three.”
