“It was our time to make sure we were on the same page.” He inhaled and leaned forward. “Last night, it hit me that we didn’t get that time yesterday.”
A lump of emotion formed in my throat that I tried to swallow. I knew what he was feeling. Dad and I were supposed to meet yesterday morning.
“That’s why I’m here, Vee. You’re now the owner. I spoke with Andrew Pratt and Darius Brown about your work this season in learning plays.”
“I don’t think I’ll have time for that…” I began.
“They were both impressed.” A small smile cracked his veneer. “And let’s be honest, they aren’t easy men to impress.”
“Thank you. That means a lot.”
“The thing is,” Tilson went on, “the players—all of them—are also impressed by your presence at practices and games.”
I caught his addition of “all players,” wondering if it was referencing Fin in some way.
“I don’t know. There’s a lot I don’t know.”
Tilson straightened his neck. “I could be gone tomorrow. I know that. It’s how this game and career choice goes. What Reid did for the franchise can’t be learned overnight. You don’t have to listen to me, but I would like you to consider maintaining your presence. If you show the players that the Coopers will go on, they’ll believe it.”
“And all the other things Dad did?”
“Darin or Rachel would know the most.”
It was my turn to inhale and sit taller. “Thank you, Coach. I have many things to consider. I would like to meet with you and all the coaches this afternoon.”
“We’ll be happy to meet with you.” He stared for a minute. “Tell me your thoughts on Sunday’s win against the Cardinals.”
Leaning back and puckering my lips, I exhaled. “I-I.” I hadn’t thought about the game since Sunday, but that wasn’t what an owner should say. Clearing the cobwebs in my mind, I thought back to Sunday. Sitting forward, I gripped the armrests of my chair. “Our offense was good.”
“Good?”
“Not great. Play calling was too conservative in my opinion. The Cardinals’ defense was reading our plays. Especially when Pratt had Simpson on the field. He only had a three and out. His drive ended with a punt.”
“What about Graham?”
“He had an eighty-eight-yard touchdown in the beginning of the game,” I said without changing my expression. “We’ve seen Graham throw the ball downfield, yet it was as if after we had points on the board, Pratt only called prevent offense—short shuffle passes, handoffs, and short runs. He kept the clock running, but when the Cardinals’ quarterback threw that Hail Mary in the third, our lead was cut in half.”
Coach Tilson nodded. “You would have called different plays?”
I mustered a small smile. “I’m not on the sidelines to make calls or micromanage. I’m there to learn and discuss. We’re discussing.”
“Defense?”
“Saved the game. Malik’s interception in the fourth quarter was the play that swung the momentum solidly in our favor.”
Tilson smiled and stood. “I’m looking forward to our talk next Monday.”
“Is that the way you talked with Dad? Because it seemed like you were listening more than talking.”
“I’m doing both. You were paying attention on the sideline.”
“Of course.”
Tilson nodded. “One more thing…?”
I also stood, maintaining eye contact. “Yes?”
“There’s a rumor.”
