I’m still quiet. I can’t even think of asking for details or to see the contract. Or to question Tony on my existing contracts.
“Congratulations Jackson. You got what you wanted,” and he ends the call
Is it still what I want, though?
Chapter 32
Jackson
We just lost our first game of the season.
I don’t know if it was the weather, the full moon, the constant taunting that began the minute the opposing team walked onto our field. I don’t know if it was the fact that I almost got thrown off the field for fighting with a referee after they refused to call penalties when the other team was clearly roughing my players and especially my quarterback. Or maybe it was that the boys picked up on my shitty mood when I entered the locker room before the game had even started.
We lost and it’s my fault.
And I fear this may be the beginning of a string of losses.
I avoided Francesca for days after Tony’s call. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know if she’d be happy for me or sad that I was leaving. I didn’t know if I was happy for me so I couldn’t think about how someone else may view the situation.
I know she felt my coldness, my distance, and I know this is bringing up old memories for her. I swore I wouldn’t hurt her and it’s exactly what I’m doing right now.
I’m hurting us both.
I’m stepping back into the destructive Gage from years ago. The Gage who shuts down, refuses to let anyone in. Who becomes that hard,asshole of a man. I feel it happening and honestly, it’s the last thing I want to do right now, but I can’t control it. My mind is running away on me, I’m not sleeping, and I can’t process a thought.
I walk off the field without making eye contact with Chess, my sister or the rest of the guys. I head into the quiet locker room where the only noise is the movement of the boys packing up their equipment. I stalk into my office and slam my door shut, throwing my clipboard down on the desk, I fall into my seat and rub my face with my hands. Trying to calm myself, I take a few deep breaths before I hear a knock.
Looking through the window in the door, I see Jameson and motion him to enter.
“Hey coach, got a minute?”
“Sure, have a seat.” I watch him move silently, he sits and is wringing his hands together.
“What’s on your mind, Jameson?”
He meets my eyes. “Tonight’s loss is on me. I was provoking them on the line. In the huddles I was angry, and I was getting everyone fired up. The hits Connor took and our corners, my fault. Hell, my hit was my fault. I didn’t move out of his way on purpose, I wanted to fight with him. It was stupid because I could have gotten hurt. I could have ended it all tonight.” He takes a shaky breath. “I let my emotions rule me out there instead of my brain. I let you down.”
Fuck. This kid. I lean back in my chair and let out a breath. He’s me ten years ago. I was so passionate about the game and the plays and the team, I know exactly what he’s feeling. And I know that passion can turn to pride, and revenge, if not tamed.
“Jameson, listen. Tonight, was a group effort. We lost that game together. It’s not on one person and it’s certainly not just on you. It’s on me as the coach. It’s on you as the QB. It’s on Connor as your protector. It’s on the team as a whole. Shit, it’s on the referees for not containing the drama. We lost tonight as a whole.”
“I know, but I can’t help but feel that if I was calmer and more cooled down, the rest of the team would have followed suit.”
“You’re right. They may have. Or they may have read my mood tonight and got more fired up when I went off on the ref. They were just protectingyou and me.”
He nods. “You did seem extra angry tonight,” he laughs. “We haven’t seen that side of you in a while.”
I know what he’s saying. They haven’t seen me in a bad mood since I got with Chess. And he’s right. Why am I putting myself through misery again? “Everyone has an off day,” is all I can respond with.
We both stand but I don’t want to leave him with just another old adage.
“I want to tell you something else and I want you to really listen. This team? What we’ve accomplished? You’ll never hit another level higher than this at this stage of your life. And then when you get to college, hopefully you can start that climb over again, with another winning team which will in turn take you to that elite spot of being an NFL Quarterback. And after you’ve accomplished all that, years later, when you’re coaching your sons’ pee wee league team, you will only have these memories to fall back on, memories you can use to spark a new generation of outstanding athletes. That’s where it becomes the most rewarding.”
I continue, “It’s all up to you, Jay. You’re so much wiser than I was. Yes, we all make our own decisions but there are consequences for each one. By coming in here tonight, claiming ownership, I think you’ve already learned the consequence of tonight’s happenings.
“This is the best time of your life, and I am proud to be your coach. To see you develop. Don’t doubt your talent because I never do.”
He’s watching me intently. “You better buy me 50-yard line seats, right behind the bench, when you make it pro.” I smile and he returns it, breaking the intensity. It hit home though; I know he heard me.