2
Reyes
Iignored the call coming in on my cell as I made my way across the parking lot toward the small brick building. The ground was still wet from last night’s rain, creating a wonderful fresh scent in the air. I drew in a deep breath and tried to let go of some of the pent-up anxiety I’d been carrying around. There were few things I loved more than being outside after a storm.
Jose “Rome” Romero met me at the door as I entered the office of HotShots Sports, wearing navy track pants and a light gray sweatshirt, a familiar sight for my former teammate. His dark hair was shorter now, drawing my attention to his rich brown eyes, which were always so full of emotion. Today they were bright with enthusiasm, crinkling at the edges as he smiled.
“Reyes!” He beamed, drawing me in for a hug. I held on to my old friend for a long time, thankful for his presence in my life. It had been three years since I’d last seen him, and even though we weren’t as close as we were when we played together, I was glad we’d stayed in touch through the years.
“Sorry I couldn’t meet you at the airport,” he continued.
I shrugged. “It’s okay. I slept most of the way to Reedsport anyway.” When his smile faded, I quickly reassured him, “You know me. I can’t sleep on a plane. So I was exhausted.”
“Well, I hope you slept okay at the inn. I still feel bad we can’t have you at the house. Just bad timing with the remodel and all.”
“No, it’s okay. I understand.”
Rome went to one of the desks in the middle of the room, searching for something while I looked around. The building was smaller than I’d expected, with only two smaller offices and a front lobby that had been converted into a workspace. A table on the far end held a printer and basic office supplies, but otherwise it looked similar to every other sports office I’d been in with random soccer balls, jerseys, and cleats scattered in every corner.
“I know it’s not much,” Rome said with a chuckle when he saw my expression, “but it works. No one actually uses the office other than me anyway. Want the grand tour?”
When I nodded, Rome crossed the room, stepping around a pile of netting and cones. With a dramatic sweep of his arm, he opened one of the doors. I couldn’t hold back my look of shock at the mountains of boxes and storage bins stuffed in the small room.
Rome laughed. “The other room is the same. We’re using them as our storage units for the time being.”
“I can see that.”
“Reminds you of our San Diego days, doesn’t it?” he said enthusiastically, referring to when we both played for San Diego State before he moved on to play professionally for Team USA. He was with them for about two years before scoring a spot on Mexico’s team, and it wasn’t long after I graduated college that I was able to join him. That’s where I’d been for the last five and a half years. It was a shock to go from the hustle of that country to this much smaller, much quieter oceanside town, but it was a change I needed for now.
“Yeah, it kind of does,” I agreed. “Tell me more about the clinic.”
He motioned for me to follow him outside, where he showed me each of the well-kept soccer fields.
“There are more fields than I expected,” I admitted. “Especially considering the size of the office. How many kids do you have?”
“Around 200.”
“Two hundred?” I asked in disbelief. “In a town this size?”
He grinned. “They come from all over. Some even come from as far away as Charleston. The previous owner really knew what he was doing. We had to turn away kids this year because we didn’t have enough coaches.” He gave me a meaningful look, which I did my best to ignore. Rome had offered me a temporary coaching position during their eight-week clinic while he adjusted to being the new owner of the company, with the hopes that it could turn into something more permanent. I’d only agreed because teaching a group of seven- to twelve-year-olds sounded like the perfect distraction from the shit show that was about to become my life as soon as news got out I was no longer a part of Mexico’s team.
“Did you know him?” I asked, shoving all thoughts of my current problems aside. “The previous owner, I mean.”
Rome nodded. “Yeah. He was a coach for SCU for a while before he started HotShots. It’s a shame his health forced him to sell, but I’m hoping I can carry on what he’s started. It’s a great program. You’ll see.”
Rome and I walked across the fields as he told me the names of some of the other coaches he’d hired for the eight-week clinic. I was surprised I recognized a few of them as professional players and wondered how he managed to get them all here. While this clinic was taking place during the off-season for soccer players, that didn’t mean the athletes weren’t still busy training or enjoying a chance to spend time with their families. I’d barely taken a week off to visit mine when I was on an active roster.
Over the next several hours, Rome walked me through how the clinic was organized, explaining to me how each of the coaches would have ten to twelve students, and they’d meet four days a week. His enthusiasm for the program was contagious, motivating and energizing me for the job ahead, once again making me thankful for his invitation to come here. Rome introduced me to a few of the other staff members and gave me a few shirts with the HotShots logo on it. It felt strange seeing the title “coach” embroidered under my name, and it gave me a little extra push to do right by these kids. Coming here might have been my escape from reality, but that didn’t mean I shouldn’t give these kids everything I had during my time here.
“Mind if I ask what your plans are for the future?” I said as we finished up. “You’ve clearly outgrown the current building.”
He laughed. “Yeah, we have. We don’t have the funds to expand, so I’m hoping to organize some kind of fundraiser to start saving for one. Ultimately, I’d love to have a new building by next year, but I haven’t had time to come up with a plan for that just yet.”
“Well, what about the fundraiser we did back in college? Servicemen versus coaches? That was always a popular one.”
Rome straightened, a grin spreading over his round face. “Oh man, I’d forgotten all about that! That was fun too!”
For nearly ten years, the university hosted annual soccer, football, and basketball games where the coaches of each team would play against the city’s first responders. On top of the entry fee to watch the event, spectators could also have a say in who they wanted to play on each team by buying raffle tickets to cast their vote for each of the players. The first responders with the most “votes” in their assigned boxes would compete against the trained coaches in the event. It was always one of the most popular events of the year.
