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Coach sounded annoyed when whispering back, “I’m smart enough to know that bastard isn’t ever around. He’s missing out on a great boy.”
On that day, you could say a ‘seed’ was planted with those words.
As I waited for a ride to pick me up, yet none came, I couldn’t help but think about how this happened from time to time. On days like this, I would watch all the other kids get into waiting cars or trucks, while I stood there by myself until Dad, or a brother-on-a-HOG, would roll in to retrieve me.
Not on this day.
Even the assistant coach was ready to go. Rolling down his window, he hollered past his son in his passenger seat, “Want me to stay?”
Walking over to me, Coach replied, “Nah. I got him.” As the assistant coach drove off, Coach was defiant and ruffled my hair again. “Sorry, kid.”
Shoulders caving with embarrassment, I shrugged. “I’m sure he’s just got business with the club.”
“Yeah.” Coach sighed, observing the empty parking lot—no dad rushing in late to collect his son. “I’m sure you’re right.”
Coach didn’t ask about my mom not coming to pick me up. He seemed to know more than me about why she wasn’t allowed near my practices or games unless dad was with her.
Instead, he asked, “Want me to run you home, kid?”
I peered up at this man who had been good to me, even before I joined his team. “I don’t want to inconvenience you, sir. I can walk.”
Coach smiled down at me, his brown eyes gleaming. “Your mama is sure raising you right.” He started walking to his sheriff’s cruiser while speaking over his shoulder. “That’s a bit of a hike. Come on. Let’s get you home.” He winked. “I’ll even let you sit in the front.”
What? My sad eyes quickly lit up. “So cool!”
I rushed to the car I’d only seen people being forced into the back of. Dad’s men were usually loud, drunk, and yelling through laughter that they were ‘innocent’.
Now in the front passenger seat with my backpack, I wondered why the cruiser was empty. Even though Coach was only in his early thirties, I asked, “Is your son all grown?”
Pulling out of the dirt parking lot, he quietly replied, “No, I don’t have one.”
From what I understood at my age then, adults got married and had kids. So I asked, “A daughter?”
Solemnly, he shook his head. “Nope. Not one of those, either.”
I guess I gave a confused expression because he chuckled. “Not fitting the trope, huh?” As his shorter light brown hair blew in the wind coming through his rolled-down window, he stared at the road we were traveling. “My heart was broken long ago, and I never let another woman take her place.”
My jaw dropped, causing more laughter from him.
“Kid! I’m not that pathetic!”
I blinked, regretting making him think so. “No, sir! I’m… just… well…” I pondered. “I guess I thought every man had someone like my mom.”
That had Coach inhaling deeply through his nose while shaking his head. “Not even close. Your mom is a rarity.” From the corner of his eye, he studied me, a sparkle appearing. “Can I give you a piece of man-to-man advice?”
Wide-eyed, I nodded, excited to be spoken to as a man. “Yes, sir!”
He smirked. “If you ever find that rarity—that jewel that shines so bright, even if you don’t know why—don’t let go, kid. No matter what. No matter how hard she is to hold on to. No matter how many,” he cleared his throat, “people tell you,” he cleared it again, “you’re too young to know she’s ‘the one’.” His left hand gripped the steering wheel while his right tapped my chest. “Follow that.” He tapped my stomach. “Listen to that.” After a sorrow-filled exhale, both hands now gripped the steering wheel as he deadpan stared at the road. “Or you’ll live to only regret it.”
Even though I was far too young to grasp the depth of his message, I was old enough to sense deep suffering. This man—my coach—was living with such a regret.
At that very moment, I hoped to never feel his anguish.
The next part of the ride was in silence until we approached one of dad’s “investments”. Coach grumbled at the lit sign, which was a silhouette of a naked woman. He downright grumbled while driving past it, noticing all the motorcycles parked out front.
For the second time, I doubted what was happening in that building.
The first time was when I asked my father about that place, after boys from school told me, “Your dad loves titties.” Since I was upset, Dad assured me it was part of his job for people in his community to make money, even if their choice of job didn’t appeal to everyone.
