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Derek caught the towel effortlessly. “Round that up and that’s a decade, dearest Nolan.”
“Did you guys hear about the new physical therapist we hired?” Hawthorn asked from where he was still submerged in the hot tub, his eyes now closed.
“What happened to Roger?” I asked about our old physical therapist. I was sad to hear Roger was gone, but the two of us had nothing more than a surface level relationship.
Therapy was the worst part of my day. Not because I disliked it or thought it was a waste of my time. I knew that it wasn’t. Therapy reminded me of my failure. It reminded me that my body couldn’t withstand the demands of this game much longer. Therapy reminded me that soon, I would be nothing more than a name and a stat line. Roger hadn’t pushed me that hard with my recovery, and I could only hope that the new hire wouldn’t either because I wasn’t sure I could mentally take it.
“Sounds like him and his wife had to move back closer to his parents. Health scare with his dad,” Hawthorn told me. “From the sounds of it, it might have happened as recently as a few weeks ago.”
“I heard the new physical therapist is some kind of sports therapy guru,” Derek added. “I think some of the guys on the Lynx have gone to her before. She got Nash Rausch back on the ice in record time.”
Great.
“I’m sure she’ll be a great addition to the staff.” I slid my ice pack back into the freezer by the door before putting my sweats back on.
“Apparently she’s hot, too.”
I rolled my eyes at Derek’s enthusiasm.
“Keep it in your pants.” Hawthorn eyed him with the look of a father with three young daughters as he got out of the hot tub and toweled off.
Derek gave him an incredulous look. “I don’t shit where I eat.”
“And that is why you haven’t had a serious girlfriend,” I mumbled as I waited for my friends.
“I’m doing just fine, thank you very much.” Derek crossed his arms over his chest. “You don’t have much room to talk. You haven’t dated anyone since Rachel.”
Hawthorn winced at the mention of my ex-fiancée.
“Eventually you’ll have slept through the entire city of Chicago and regret it.” Hawthorn clapped Derek on the back as the three of us exited the training room. “Alright boys, I have three beautiful girls waiting for me at home. I will see you two bright and early for practice.”
The sun was just starting to set as we walked out to the parking lot. The three of us had used today as a prep day for the week to come. Preseason games had come and gone. The pressure and intensity of those games was never very high, and it had been a decent start for me to get my headspace under control. But this Sunday we were opening against the Nashville Cowboys, who were runner-up in last year’s Super Bowl.
It wasn’t a match-up that would ease us into the season. I had to be at the top of my game.
“Want to grab a drink?” Derek asked me as we walked up to our cars.
“Not tonight. I have some things I need to do before tomorrow,” I told him. Derek nodded like he understood before he slid into his car and left me standing alone in the parking lot.
I waited until the taillights of his car disappeared before I turned and walked back into the facility. I hadn’t lied to Derek that I had things to do, but I wasn’t going to tell him that my plans were to rewatch my games from last year. I could hear him trying to talk me out of it, saying that the staff sports psychologist would advise against it.
He was probably right, and I was probably a glutton for punishment.
The building was nearly empty. I slipped into one of the empty film rooms and pulled up the file of videos the coaches had made me. I flipped the lights off and settled into one of the chairs in the back of the room.
The film was a mash-up of every play I was a part of last season.
The plays bled into each other as the hours ticked by.
Missed snaps.
Overthrown receivers.
Sacks.
It was hard to reconcile that the quarterback on the screen was me because I didn’t recognize him.
I wanted to leave this game, which had been all I’d known for most of my life, on my own terms. I wanted to be a three-time Super Bowl champion. Part of me knew that a win or a loss wouldn’t make the transition out of the league any easier, but it would give me the chance to write over the past two seasons of mishaps. It would solidify my legacy and all my hard work.
