As one, the team shouted out, “No!”
“You put in the work the last few weeks, and it’s time to show them, as reigning champions, we aren’t here to play. That we’re NOT giving up our title that easily.”
One thing about Coach was that he could give a mean speech before a game.
“Remember,” his eyes scanned each of us, “while I do want you all to play your best, do not overexert yourself to the point that you’re injuring yourself. As a team, we have a long road ahead to get back to The Legacy Championship, so we need to play smart, hard, and safe.”
Coach’s gaze landed on me, meaning it was my turn as captain to speak.
“Titans.” I raised my voice to be heard. Their focus shifted to me as they waited for me to bring the team together before getting on the field. My gaze met Jake and Perry’s. Their faces were pinched in concentration and focus.
“They doubtUS.They fearUS.They don’t surviveUS.” My fist struck my chest with each word, each beat deliberate. My voice rang out clear, unshaken as I said the same chant I always did before each and every game. The team echoed the beat to their own chests.
“We are the Titans, and this field belongs toUS.”
The yells that came from everyone were deafening, echoing and shaking the walls around us.
“Titans on three.” I put my hand out. One by one, each player stuck their hand out, even those that couldn’t reach the middle.
“ONE, TWO, THREE…TITANS!”
Anticipation and excitement ran through my veins as the team walked out of the locker room to the tunnel that led tothe field. Each tap to my shoulders and back added fuel to the fire burning in my belly.
The same fire that grew every time I stepped through the tunnel. The same fire that drove me to this sport years ago when I started playing as a kid. There wasn’t a feeling like it. It was an addiction I craved before each game.
The sound of the roaring crowd met my ears as we waited to go on the field. I stood at the back of the team, bouncing lightly on my toes. My fingertips tingled, white tape wrapped around my right fingers.
Coach stepped up next to me and tapped my shoulder pads. The firm nod he gave when I glanced over at him was familiar and welcomed.
I blocked everything out, noises seizing to exist, and focused on clearing my mind. I wanted to feel this moment and nothing else.
My teammates moving in front of me was the only notice I got that we were heading onto the field. Taking a deep breath, I grabbed my helmet and slipped it on my head.
Walk out and own it.
With Emmie’s words in my head, I jogged forward.
My focus tunneledto the game in front of me, and the first quarter flew by. People always wondered if the competitiveness applied to preseason too, and yes, it did.
For a lot of players, preseason was a make or break for their career, especially rookies. This was their chance to prove they belonged on the team. That they could handle the big leagues. If they couldn’t, then they got cut, and maybe, if they were lucky, they’d get a chance to play for another team.
So, while this game didn’t count toward the season's records, we didn’t half-ass it.
I didn’t know what it was like tonotgive it my all every time I stepped onto the field. My brothers, especially Wyatt, who’s been captain of The Toronto Knights hockey team for years, taught me that you only got one chance. One chance to do what you loved, so you needed to do it well. Do it to the best of your ability every single time.
While having a successful brother motivated me to be the best, it also came with the constant fear of not measuring up. The fear that I would never be as good as him. We played in different sports, but I also had the same last name. In the sports world, that came with a lot of expectations. A lot of comparisons.
If I had decided to become a doctor or build houses, my brothers and mom would have stood by me. To them, it didn’t matter what I did, just as long as I enjoyed it.
I tried my best to not let the outside voices get in my head about certain things like that. It’s why I always put everything I had on the field every time I stepped onto it, even if we didn’t win a game, I’d know I did what I could with no regrets.
Another lesson my brothers taught me growing up.
“Keep the line tight,” Coach instructed in the huddle on the sidelines. I wasn’t playing anymore, but I still listened and gave my input. Something Jennings despised with every glare he sent my direction.
I paid him little attention. I already got us fifteen points in the first quarter. He could squander it if he wanted but it wasn’t my problem since I wasn’t playing.
Whistles blew as the offense ran back onto the field, Jennings with them. I paced down the sidelines, eyes on the field as fans' screams filled my ears. I told myself to focus onthe game and not look into the crowd for Emmie, but it was a losing battle.
