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I’m sure I’m not making the best impression on Mike or Andy, who I’ve not had the chance to talk to apart from tonight. I get the distinct impression Mike doesn’t like me. He’s only been with the Aces for a year, but surely he was vying for the head coaching position. He didn’t get it, though, and now he has to work under me—the guy who did get it.
Maybe I’m wrong. She’s distracting me, and we keep getting interrupted as the legions of Aces fans who frequent this bar swing by to welcome me to town. Maybe this wasn’t the best choice for a celebratory drink, or maybe Jack had an ulterior motive in bringing me here.
Today was a big day, but the first day back to the offices isn’t for a few more weeks. We’ll have some time off now, so at least I’ll get to avoid her for a bit as I settle into this new position, this new home, this new life.
And I’ll have a little bit of time to prepare for my trip back home where I’ll have to face my entire family after nearly kissing our mortal enemy today at her father’s bar.
Can’t wait.
I see her get up with her friend and their boys out of the corner of my eye. I stared at the kid when I walked over to the table. It’s not hard to tell who he belongs to. He looks exactly like his mother.
But what did he get from his father? Who is his father?
Jesus, that weight is going to press heavy on my chest until I have some answers.
Staring at him helped me avoid looking at her.
Would we have kids together by now if we would’ve had the chance to stay together?
It’s something I think about often.
None of my brothers are married. None of us have kids.
I’m the oldest at thirty-six, and my brothers are thirty-two, twenty-nine, and twenty-seven. All four of us have played football professionally since we graduated college. I’m the only one who isn’t still playing. Grayson is a defensive back for the Chargers. Spencer is a wide receiver for the Vikings. Asher is a tight end for the Colts. We’re all single, eligible bachelors, and there’s no shortage of women vying for our attention.
But nobody has caught it.
Or, at least, nobody since Jolene has caught mine.
What the fuck did our parents do to us?
I’ve said the words before to Grayson, the brother I’m probably closest to simply because of our ages. We both laughed it off, but maybe it’s true. Maybe they ingrained hard work into the four of us from such a young age that we went too far the wrong way, putting our focus into the game instead of into our personal lives.
Am I personally fulfilled?
I’m not sure.
It’s another puzzle I think about often.
Am I happy?
Sure. I enjoy coaching, and I’m excited to be here in Vegas.
But the older I get, the more I realize there has to be more to life than just football.
It’s a game. It’s my life. It’s how I was raised.
I didn’t care about anything beyond that when I was in my twenties. But my thirties hit me, and I’m more than halfway to forty now.
And where does that leave me?
If I do want kids someday, the clock is ticking. It’s never really been a priority. My dad instilled that one in the four of us for sure—that having kids too young can fuck up your entire life.
He had four anyway.
But what about having them too old? Or not having them at all?
Would things be different if we had a sister? Maybe. My mom wanted a girl so bad she tried four times before she gave up, and then she was forced into raising four assholes who accidentally put holes in her walls and broke her furniture and had her taking weekly trips to the ER.
