Dirty Game

“What’s that?” I stared straight ahead.

“Usually you come back from your break a little different.”

“What are you trying to say?”

He slapped his knee. “Hell, I’ll stop sugar coating it and just say it. We all see it. You’re angry, Blake. Mean as a damn snake.”

“Warrior mentality.” I brushed off his comment. “This team is going to hell. They need someone to give them the reality shock to wake them up.”

“That’s not it.” He shook his head. “I’ve known you going on five years now and you’ve never been a son of a bitch like this. Hard working sure. Tough as nails. But not a dick to your teammates.”

My head cocked to the side. “Excuse me?”

“What happened? Is it grief? The fans? What is getting under your skin?”

“I’m good. What you see is determination to dig this team out of a losing season.”

“We’re almost at the hotel. After we check in if you want to grab a drink and talk you know my room is always open. I’m here for you. I’m never too busy for what’s going on in your life. Whatever it is.” He eyed me.

Maybe that was his problem. He was too worried about personal issues to look at the bigger scope of his team. It was falling apart.

“Thanks, Coach. We’re going to win tomorrow. That’s what I’m focused on.”

“Well, on the way to victory, maybe you could ease back a little on these guys. You’ve been riding them pretty hard the past couple of months. Just think about it.”

“Sure thing.”

He stood as the bus came to a stop in front of the hotel.

I hung back while everyone filed off and searched the luggage stack for their bags.

Finally, I joined them on the sidewalk and heaved my travel bag over my shoulder.

“Want to get a jog in?” Jones asked me.

“Nah. I think I’m going to review some Sharks film before practice.”

“Come on. It feels awesome out here. We can run and not even break a sweat in this weather.”

I shook him off. “Maybe later. I think I’m going to change a few of the plays. I’ve got to get that ready before practice.”

He shrugged. “Whatever. I’m running. Don’t let the Shark fans hear this, but I love DC.”

“Yeah, I won’t say anything.”

I headed to my room and locked the hotel door behind me.

The anger was there. It had been there ever since the wedding. Only I couldn’t think about it. I wouldn’t let myself dwell on it. I couldn’t give into it. But Coach had seen it and sensed it. Apparently the whole damn team had. And it was like a dam getting ready to break.

I wanted to unleash the resentment. I needed a place to bury the rage. So far that place had been on the field. I had run the team into the ground. I had barked and yelled. I had cursed in their faces and threatened them. I had come close to knocking a few to the ground.

And why? Because I let Sierra back in? Because for a few weeks out of the summer I stopped being the man I was and let myself be the man I used to be. An island guy with nothing but time on his hands. A guy who loved with his heart and soul. And it blew up in my face.

The instant I let my guard down she did what she had always done. She destroyed me. She ripped through my soul. It wasn’t one thing. It was lash after lash of layers of lies. The baby. My father’s role in our breakup. The inevitable way things were going to end a second time.

I stood at the window. I saw Jones take off on his run.

Coach was right even if I couldn’t say it at the time. Things had to change. I couldn’t carry this anger around. It was killing me and wrecking the team.