Coach Bill oversaw the offense, which meant he worked closely with Weston. During timeouts, they both crowded over a clipboard to discuss adjustments Weston needed to make. Bill appeared friendly on the outside. Like he’d invite you to dinner and tell you to take home a plate. Still, there was a mean side to him that was easily triggered. I saw a flash of it when one player dropped the ball. I didn’t realize it was Dakota until he was on the ground.
Few people were paying attention because their star player, Weston, was on the field. I was still doing my bootleg surveillance on Bill when I noticed he dragged Dakota off under the tunnel. I watched them with a frown. In the tunnel, I could only make out their silhouettes but what I saw made my heart pound in anger and the need to protect.
Under the cover of the tunnel, Bill snatched Dakota’s helmet guard and yanked it roughly, so they were speaking face-to-face. Dakota struggled like he was trying to pull away, but Bill was just as in shape as his players - if not more so. He clutched onto the guard, refusing to let go. Dakota stopped squirming, so he didn’t risk breaking his neck.
I stood up instantly when Bill slammed Dakota back into the wall. As soon as Dakota’s helmet crashed onto the cement, someone made a touchdown. As Bill kicked him in the gut, the crowd cheered for the score. My sudden stance didn’t seem unusual to those around me because everyone stood in excitement.
Bill left Dakota on his back, helpless, as he jogged back onto the sidelines of the field. I breathed heavily, watching Dakota roll on the ground for a bit before pushing himself to his knees. My mind raced with fear and worry.
“Weston!” I yelled, trying to get his attention amongst the thousands of voices screaming his name and their team’s name. “Weston!”
He was too busy congratulating Kevin on his touchdown. I groaned under my breath, trying to think of what to do.
“Fuck,” I heard Elena say. She was now standing up beside me. I didn’t look away, thinking she was still talking about Twitter. “Talk about discipline. That’s why I don’t do sports. Coaches are too intense.”
I turned my gaze to her. “You saw that, right?”
She nodded. “Unfortunately.”
I breathed a prayer of thanks that there was someone else who’d witnessed it. “What should we do?”
Elena raised one eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”
I gestured in Dakota’s direction. He had now gotten up and was slowly making his way back into the open. A few of his teammates greeted him, but it didn’t look like anyone spoke to him long enough to ask him where he’d been.
“Do something. I don’t know. We just witnessed a coach shove a student to the ground.”
Elena shrugged and unlocked her phone to type again. “Not our problem.”
“Not our problem?” I gasped, frustrated, and had to press my nails into my palm to hold back from throwing my hands up in anger.
“What’s wrong?” Taylor asked, finally done cheering about the touchdown. She looked between me and Elena, waiting for an answer.
“Lois Lane here wants to insert herself into athlete drama,” Elena explained while jerking her thumb in my direction.
“That coach literally knocked one of his players to the ground.”
Taylor looked concerned, but still said, “Okay, so what?”
“So what?” I repeated. “Are you kidding me? It’s abuse.”
Elena scoffed. “Coco, we’re at a football game. These men are hopped on testosterone with adrenaline and probably a few drugs pumping through their blood at a hundred miles a minute.”
Taylor nodded in agreement. “We all know men have very primitive ways of showing aggression. Let them let it out.”
“That wasn’t normal aggression,” I argued and eyed Elena. “You saw it. He knocked Dakota to the ground for no reason.”
“You must not have brothers,” Elena told me. “Nothing they do ever has a reason.”
“And you must not have grown up playing a sport,” Taylor added. “Stuff like that happens all the time. My cheer coach in high school yelled at me so much that I developed an eating disorder.”
“That’s horrible.” I wanted to touch her and ask if she was okay but her eyes flickered back towards the field like she didn’t want to talk about it. “And that’s my point.”
“But our point is,” Elena calmly explained. “That this comes with the territory. These guys are trained for this. When they signed up, they knew what it was going to be.”
I was fuming and tired of talking to brick walls. “That’s bullshit.”
Taylor shrugged. “Such is life.”
