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That about covers everything I could possibly need, and it’ll take some other items off my plate so I can focus on what my team needs.
“You know, I haven’t interviewed anyone else for the position, but if Jack recommends you, then my guess is you’re a great person to have on my side. You’re hired.”
Her jaw slackens a bit. “Really?”
I laugh. “Really. I assume there’s an NDA involved and I can tell you anything?”
She nods. “Absolutely.”
“Great. As you know, my first press conference starts in a few minutes. What you don’t know is that I just had an exclusive interview with someone who happens to be both an ex and an enemy to my entire family, so I need to get my head on straight. Send me a contract and I’ll sign off on it, and you mentioned coaching prior to press conferences, so let’s get to it.”
“Oh we’ve got this,” she says, and then she starts rapid firing questions at me to help me prepare to face the press.
And, oddly enough, it seems to work.
“I need to get downstairs,” I say, and she stands to walk with me.
As we head toward the back set of elevators that keep us from entering the media room through the lobby, she says, “I’m going to give you my four Cs to ace this press conference.”
“I thought the four Cs were for diamonds. Color, cut, clarity, carat.” I press the button to call the elevator up.
Her brows dip as she narrows her eyes at me. “Have you been shopping for rings?”
I laugh. “Oh, fuck no. My buddy is married with a kid, though, and I helped him pick out the ring.”
She nods as the elevator doors open and we step on. “Right. Well, these are different. Confident, Calm, Clear, and Courageous. Hit them with those four Cs and you’ll win them over. Leave even one out and they’ll see it as a sign of weakness.”
“I thought you were supposed to hype me up before a press conference, not make me nervous,” I say dryly as I hit the button for the first floor.
“Oh God, did I just make you nervous?” Her eyes grow wide like she messed something up already and we haven’t even signed a contract to work together yet.
I laugh. “No. I’ve done plenty of press conferences before. I’m not nervous.”
“But none as head coach,” she points out.
“Are you trying to make me nervous?”
“I’ll just stop talking now.”
I laugh. “No, really. This has been great. You even managed to get my mind off my ex for a minute.” Except now that I mention her, she’s back on my mind again.
And what’s worse, as Jack Dalton says a few words to introduce me, I look out over the group of reporters gathered in the room, and I see her sitting there, her eyes trained on me rather than on Jack.
Is your father proud of you?
No. I don’t think he is.
I don’t think there is anything I can do that will ever make him say those words to me despite how goddamn hard I’ve tried my entire life.
Giving her up was one of the hardest things I ever had to do, and I did it for him. It still didn’t make him proud.
Playing in college and dominating records didn’t make him proud.
A first round draft pick to the Saints didn’t make him proud.
I really believed working my way up through the system until I landed a head coaching position would be the thing that finally pushed those words out of his mouth.
Hell, even working back in time, I can’t remember hearing those words. When I learned to ride a bike, or when I aced a hard test, or when I saved a bird with a broken wing, or when I mowed Mrs. Paulson’s front lawn without pay after her husband passed away.
