“I don't think I've set foot in a gym once in the last six months!” he countered, letting out a loud belly laugh which I couldn't help laughing along with. He patted his stomach and grinned. “And my lack of effort shows, doesn't it?”
I chuckled. “I'm gonna make it my personal mission to get you back in shape, Johnny boy. You're gonna have a six pack in a few months, just like back in our college days. I’ll be your personal coach.”
“I'd rather have a six pack of this,” he said, taking the beer from the waitress as she came back.
“All right, all right,” I laughed.
“Speaking of coaching, isn’t your first day tomorrow?” he asked.
“Yep.”
“How are you feelin' about that?”
“Well, I mean, it's what I do best, but I can't help being a little nervous about meeting a new team. Especially when I've got a professional reputation to uphold and a personal one to live down. Then, you throw in the pressure from all the expectations Florida State has of me. They're really expecting me to take this team to the top.”
“You will, Wade. C'mon, you're a great coach. One of the best in the country. There ain't nothing to be nervous about.”
“Yeah, I know. But enough about me; how are you? How's the university's IT department?”
“As exciting as it sounds,” he replied. “But hey, it's a great job, and computers have always been my thing.”
“You were a great volleyball player, too, you know,” I reminded him.
“I had a few skills, I guess, but I never had the passion for it like you did. That's why you went pro, and me? Well, I kinda gave it up.”
“You ever regret that? I mean, not trying to go pro.”
“No, I just wasn't good enough. And, I really do feel fulfilled working with computers. I love what I do.”
“I’m glad you do. C'mon, drink up, buddy! To you loving your job and to my, well, not-quite-so triumphant return to FSU!”
We both grinned, clinked our bottles together, downed our beers, and spent the rest of the evening reminiscing about our younger days.
*****
I stared into the mirror on the wall of my new office. Staring back at me was the reflection of a man who was both broken and repaired at the same time.
Physically, I looked good, better than I had in years. Like I'd told John the night before, I'd been hitting the gym regularly and hard. I'd inherited good genes from my parents, as well – a strong jawline and thick, dark hair from my dad, and my mom's piercing green eyes and smooth, youthful skin. I’ve always known how lucky I was to have been gifted with good looks, but also cursed, in a way.
The part-time modeling I'd done after being noticed in the Olympics was what had gotten me into those Hollywood parties and that circle of people. It was the beginning of my downward spiral and had gotten me into more trouble than it was worth. If I'd been a more average-looking guy, I don’t think any of that would have happened. I'd probably still be coaching at UCLA in blissful obscurity, living a quiet and relaxing life. Maybe I'd even be married with two kids and a dog, a house with a white picket fence, and all of that.
However, that wasn't how things had turned out.
At least I now had the opportunity to have a fresh start. And this time, I wasn't going to let any woman close enough to get my life into a gigantic mess again. No sir, no way – going forward, I was doing things for me, and me only.
I ran my fingers through my hair to settle it into place and then hung my old whistle around my neck – my lucky whistle, the one I'd used when coaching my first team and taking them to the top of the league. I was ready.
I checked my watch. Twenty minutes until practice was set to start. I ran over the notes again given to me by Coach Hatting. For a moment, I thought about the days he’d coached me when I'd been on the Florida State University team. He was a great coach and knew the game better than any coach I’d ever had, even the coaches of the Olympic team.
I double-checked the names of the players Coach Hatting noted I needed to be paying attention to. Some names were underlined in green, some in red, some in blue. The red ones were bad apples – players who either had bad attitudes or were lazy. The green ones were players who, under the old coach, had been unfairly overlooked despite having real talent.
The blue ones were different altogether. They were connected with the scandal in which the former coach had been involved. The school had managed to keep it pretty hush-hush, but Coach Hatting had informed me that the former coach had taken bribes from these players’ parents to put them in the starting lineup. Now it was up to me to evaluate them and see if they actually had any talent, or if they were starters simply because their parents had paid for the position.
I took a deep breath. It was such a mess to clean up. Coach Hatting had tried, but he was only there for a few short weeks. It was up to me to sort everything out. I folded the list and put it in my pocket before heading over to the indoor court where the practice was to be held.
As I arrived, the girls were all busy warming up, chatting and laughing as they did, but when they saw me, a hush quickly fell over the court. I tried to tamp down the uneasiness as a few of them checked me out. As flattering as it was, it got in the way of being professional, and the last thing I wanted to deal with starting with a new team was a bunch of flirty college kids. I just wanted to do my job as professionally as possible.
I moved my eyes over the crowd and wondered how long it would take to learn all of their names. There were 22 players on the roster. That may not seem like an overwhelming number of names to learn, but when you’re already terrible with names to begin with, it was.