Page 50 of Praising the Pitcher

“I’m sorry,” I mutter under my breath, unable to look him in the eyes.

I’ve had a shit game. And considering this is the one matchup this season that truly matters most, I didn’t even show up ready to play. I’m on edge, irritated, and my mind just isn’t in the game.

This doesn’t happen to me.

I may be the goofy fuck who never seems to get worked up, even in an important game, but my teammates and my coach—my father—know they can count on me. I’m good under pressure, and I can weather the storm.

Except for today.

“Yeah, me too,” he grumbles roughly. “You’re out.” He looks down the line, his eyes stopping at Samson Saunders, a junior, and he jerks his chin. “Sam, you’re in.”

“Dad!” I say quickly, instantly pissed. “Let me⁠—”

“Don’t,” he snaps, pointing a finger in my face. “I should have taken you out a long time ago, but you kept saying you’d get it together. You don’t get special treatment just because you’re my son, Noah.”

“Yeah, no shit,” I mutter, attempting to turn away from him, and instantly, I regret it when his large hand clutches my shoulder and his mouth comes to my ear.

“Smarten up, Noah,” he warns me. “I don’t put up with shit attitudes on my team.”

When he releases me, I say nothing before walking away.

I know I’m being unreasonable. He didn’t have a choice but to take me out, seeing as I was absolutely embarrassing out there. But I’ve worked my ass off the entire season to get to this game, and now we’re down by one touchdown with the clock winding down, and someone else gets to finish what I’ve started.

I pass Dallas just before he heads back onto the field, and he peers at me through his helmet. “You good?”

“Yeah,” I grunt out. “May not be if we lose and I know I’m the reason for it.”

I flinch at my own words, knowing it could very well happen at this point in the game. I’d have no one to blame but myself because I’m the one who’s been dropping the ball.

Literally.

He hits his helmet against mine, unblinking.

“I got you, King,” he says, and even though I want to believe him, I can’t. All I can do is nod weakly before he takes off onto the field.

I can feel her gaze on my back, but I don’t turn around because I’m too fucking ashamed to face her, especially when she’s the reason I suck so badly today, and she has no idea.

Little by little, she’s somehow dug her way into my soul far more than I planned or wanted. I need to keep my distance and let it pass, but the thought of that sounds next to impossible. Especially when I see Benny Baker looking her way again, a big grin under his helmet.

Fuck him.

As the rest of the game plays out, I watch Dallas throw a perfect spiral, landing it in Sam’s hands. And unlike me, he actually times it up right, catches it, and runs in for a touchdown.

The crowd freaks out as the team huddles, no doubt getting our kicker, Brian, ready to hopefully win this game for us. I can’t breathe, feeling like we’re in this tight of a position because of me.

Moments later, Brian is kicking the ball, sending it into the air …

And there it is.

NEU wins and advances further into the playoffs; meanwhile, our opponents are done. I sigh in relief, though I fucking hate that I wasn’t the one to tie the game up. If I had been in, we probably would be the ones taking the loss and I hate that.

Everyone rushes toward each other to celebrate, but my dad stops beside me, not looking down.

“I don’t know what you’ve got going on, Noah, but you need to get it straightened out,” he says, his voice low. “It’s playoff time. Your team needs you.”

Obviously not, I think, seeing as they just won with my ass over here on the sidelines. But instead of saying that, I nod. “I know,” I murmur because I’ve already let my dad down enough today. He should be celebrating, and instead he’s over here with me.

He gives my shoulder a pat before walking away toward his team, and even though it’s hard, I don’t look behind me in the stands.