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Yeah, I do. It’s the same stance all four of us have. It’s why our ages range from twenty-seven to thirty-six and none of us are married. None of us have kids. All of us are committed to football first.
All of us are a little lonely but none of us will admit it.
And I’m starting to wonder what life would be like if I could be a little more like Asher and take the damn risk.
CHAPTER 22: LINCOLN
My alarm wakes me way too early, but I have to take my chance where I have it. It’s the life of a football coach, I guess.
I pull on my joggers and a long-sleeve t-shirt and grab my favorite Nikes before I head down to the kitchen, where Asher is already waiting for me. He’s chowing on a granola bar, and I find one in the pantry for myself, too. We fill some water bottles and head out the back door.
It’s a brisk forty-eight degrees this early in the morning in late March, but it’s beautiful. The skies are clear as we head through the fields to the trail through the forest.
“What’s new with you?” I ask once we wade through the tall grass and hit the dirt path.
He shrugs. “Nothing much. I’ve been spending most of my offseason in Nashville.”
“Doing what?”
“Hanging with buddies. Going to bars. Listening to live music every night.”
“Keeping up with workouts…”
He laughs. “Nah. I’m young enough the off-season pounds still shed pretty easily. I take a month or two to fuck around and then once we’re back at mandatory OTAs, I get back on track.”
“That’s the time to do it.” I think about his words. He’s dedicated to having fun, but he knows when to get serious. That’s the kind of attitude I want on my team. That’s the kind of guy I want playing for me.
“How’s Vegas?” he asks.
“So far, so good. I haven’t been there long, but it already feels like the best organization I’ve ever worked for.”
His brows rise as if he’s impressed by that. “Even with new ownership?”
“You know Jack Dalton. He’s got everything under control, and the players in that building respect the hell out of him.”
“Yeah, you walked into a pretty sweet deal there.”
I chuckle. “I wouldn’t say I walked into it.”
He’s quiet a beat. “You ever think we get all this shit so easily because there’s four of us playing? With a dad who used to play, an uncle who used to play…”
“It’s a legacy, for sure, but I still think we all earned it in our own right. Maybe we were predisposed to some advantages because we grew up around the game. How’s Indianapolis treating you?”
“It’s good. Fine.” He shrugs. “I guess sometimes I feel like my talents are wasted there. Hillman starts more games than I do despite the evidence that I have more talent. And as you know, we need a quarterback.”
He’s not happy there.
This is my chance.
“You’ll get a good pick in the draft,” I point out.
“Yeah. But that’s the thing. I don’t know that I want to play on a team that has a good draft pick every season…you know?”
“Yeah, I know.” The good thing about a good draft position is that a team will score a talented player with a lot of potential to build a better team. The bad thing about it is that the team with the worst record in the league gets the first pick. “What would you think about coming to play for a team that has the last pick this season?”
His head whips over in my direction. “In Vegas? With you?”
“In Vegas,” I confirm. “With me.” I’m not sure that the with me part will sell him as much as the Vegas part. I’ve always just been his older brother, but I could see the two of us getting closer. What would the dynamic be like, though, for me to be his head coach? What would that look like in the locker room? Would other players be afraid to say certain things to him for fear it’d get back to me?
