Old Fashioned - Becker Brothers

“It’s kind of funny,” Noah argued after a moment.

“Regardless of whether it’s funny or awful, it cost us the game. And I hear what you’re saying, Mom, I really do,” I said earnestly. “But, I have to figure out how to handle it and establish my expectations when I walk into that locker room on Monday.”

“Hey now,” Mom said, pointing her finger into my chest. “You don’t know if you would have won that game had that Parker kid gone back out onto the field. For all you know, he could have fumbled the ball and made the score worse. There were other errors made far before he got hurt, like Rodgers throwing that interception that gave the Raptors their first touchdown. And that was probably caused by your offensive line not giving him time to make a smart throw.”

A genuine smile found my face for the first time that night, because I could remember a time when Mom knew nothing about football and couldn’t have cared less what the score was at the end of the night. But when I told her as a junior in high school that I thought I wanted to become a coach, she took a serious interest, and she was at every game, learning the rules, cheering me on, and — on my favorite nights — giving coach an earful of what she thought should be done to win.

Mom was our biggest fan, no matter what we did. And I knew it was a rare and special gift.

I sighed, still smiling, because her words were sinking in as they always seemed to do. “Do you ever get tired of being right?” I asked her.

She smirked. “Never.”

Noah ran his finger over the edge of his glass, brows furrowed as he thought. “You know, I see where your frustration comes from. You saw what Sydney didn’t see, because — like Mom said — you know those boys better than she does. Keep in mind, this is her first year on the team.”

“It’s also her first year back at work after being a stay-at-home mom for years,” Mallory added, joining us at the table.

“What’s wrong? Not interested in how we got a robot to Mars?” Noah asked.

Mallory rested her hand on her small, but rounding, belly. “All the orange makes me nauseous.”

“Trust me, sweetie. Everything is going to make you nauseous for about another month, at least,” Mom chimed in. “Let me make you some tea.”

Before Mallory could argue, Mom was already up and in the kitchen.

“Seriously, though,” Mallory said, her attention on me. “I don’t know if you know Randy Kelly, but he’s a prick. And she was married to him. Don’t you remember that she was one of the smartest girls in school? She was years ahead of me and even I remember her sweeping the award ceremonies. She already had college credits when she graduated high school, and she graduated with her master’s degree at twenty-two.”

“What are you saying?” Noah asked.

Mallory shrugged. “I’m just saying. She wanted a career, and yet she never had one. She got pregnant before she ever had the chance to be a trainer like she’d wanted to be. And now, she’s finally working, finally has the chance to prove herself — and all that after a divorce where you guys know as well as I do that she was painted as the villain.” Mallory’s eyes caught mine just as Logan came up behind her and squeezed her shoulders. She placed a hand over his. “Wouldn’t you feel like you had something to prove — not just to the team full of boys you work with, and not just to this town, but to yourself?”

It wasn’t a question she expected me to answer, and thanks to Mom delivering tea, I didn’t have to. Ruby Grace joined us at the table and the conversation turned fully away from me and onto the upcoming wedding.

I sat quietly the rest of the evening, chewing on what Mallory had said, considering Sydney in a way I hadn’t until that moment. I’d known she was married to Randy, of course, and that she had a kid. But I’d never considered the sacrifices she’d made — just like the ones my own mom had — nor had I considered what she must feel like as the only woman on a staff of men.

I’d pointed out that she could be a distraction, and now, I wanted to laugh at myself because I realized that was far from news to her.

She knew she’d be dealing with boys, that she’d be proving herself to men, that she’d be fighting an uphill battle from the moment she walked through those locker room doors.

And I’d been the General of the opposition.

More than that, what Mom and Noah had said sank in more and more the longer I sat there sipping on my whiskey. Sydney didn’t know those boys as well as I did. And if Parker really had been hurt, she would have been responsible for letting him back on the field — even if it had been my call.