“Then it’s good I’m a pro.” Rodriguez is already moving toward the front of the room. “What am I doing here?”
I glance at Roman one more time. His expression hasn’t changed, but something in his eyes says he knows exactly what just happened. That I looked at him first. That Rodriguez intercepted before I could make that choice.
“Fine.” I turn my attention to Rodriguez, who’s bouncing on his toes like he’s about to take the ice. “Stand here.”
I walk him through the sequence. Dynamic lunges, leg swings, hip openers. He’s surprisingly focused once we start, the class clown act dropping away enough to reveal the athlete underneath. His form needs correction, but he’s flexible and picks up the movements quickly.
“See how the movement opens through the hip?” I demonstrate on him, hands guiding his leg through the proper range of motion. “This activates the muscles you’ll use in your stride while preparing the joint capsule for impact.”
“Oh damn, that actually feels good.” Rodriguez holds the position, then grins over his shoulder at the room. “You guys seeing this? Doc’s a miracle worker.”
“Your hip flexors are tight,” I say. “Most of yours probably are. That’s what this routine addresses.”
“My hips are tight as hell,” Rodriguez agrees cheerfully. “Among other things.”
“Rodriguez,” Barrett warns.
“What? I’m being anatomically accurate.”
I suppress a smile and walk him through the rest of the sequence. By the end, even Winters can’t argue with the visible improvement in Rodriguez’s range of motion.
“Fifteen minutes before every practice and game,” I repeat to the room. “I’ll train the full team when everyone’s back from summer break, but I wanted medical and coaching approval first.”
Barrett nods. “Makes sense to me. Winters?”
The pause stretches long enough to be pointed. “I’d like to review the research you’re basing this on.”
“Of course.” I pull up the final slide. Twenty peer-reviewed studies,current best practices from three Olympic teams, injury prevention data from the last five years. “I can send you the full literature review.”
“Please do.” But his tone says he’ll find something to criticize no matter how solid the research.
The meeting wraps shortly after. Rodriguez claps me on the shoulder as he passes. “That was actually cool, Doc. My hips feel like a million bucks.”
“Good. Keep doing the stretches I showed you.”
“Yes ma’am.” He mock-salutes and leaves with Dex, already arguing about lunch plans.
Anderson files out without a word. The training staff disperses. Soon it’s just me packing up my tablet, Barrett reviewing notes, and Roman still leaning against that wall.
“Good presentation,” Barrett says, standing. “Send me the full protocol breakdown and we’ll implement it in training camp.”
“Will do.”
He leaves, and then it’s just Roman and me in the conference room.
I should leave. Should follow everyone else out. Should maintain the professional distance that’s already eroding faster than I can rebuild it.
“You wanted to pick me,” he says.
I fumble with my tablet case. “Rodriguez volunteered.”
“After you looked at me first.”
My fingers still on the zipper. “You’re reading into things.”
“Am I?” He pushes off the wall, moving closer. Not crowding, just eliminating the distance. “Because I’m pretty sure you spent about three seconds deciding whether to ask me before Rodriguez jumped in.”
“He’s more enthusiastic. Better for team morale during a dry presentation.”
