Page 32

31

BODHI

Despite spending most of my time on this green turf and terracotta clay, it feels strange to be back. Season only ended in November and now it’s February—which isn’t a long time off, but it’s definitely needed when you spend nine months of the year playing six games a week.

My knees and back appreciate the break.

However, there’s something about Makers Park that feels like home.

Brett, our favorite security guard, greets me at the player entrance at the back of the clubhouse and I tread through the heavy double doors.

The smell of stale air and cleaning products greets me; it’s a contrast to the smell of sweat, dirt, and menthol you’d typically smell lingering during the season.

I miss it. Three weeks until spring training and my feet will be back on the turf, where I can embrace my freedom.

There are many pros to being a player at Makers. Coach is a great advocate for his team and spared no expense, ensuring we had the best amenities and equipment.

A wide hallway painted black with glass framed player portraits and stats lining the walls leads to the player locker room, where I find Coach waiting for us. Most of the team is already here; grunts and “what up, man” welcome me.

“Hey, guys,” I call out to the team.

Coach Leggins wastes no time proceeding once the rest of us have piled in. “Great. Now that you’re all here, I’ll get right to it.”

I find a seat next to Cal on the bench in the center of the room.

“Two things. I’ll start with the first. The Strikers League has signed Crew Briggs for the upcoming 2025 season. As most of you know, Crew played for the Strikers two years ago and has since had his daughter. He approached me last spring about possibly playing again as a free agent. After little thought, we have decided to offer him a five-year contract, and he has accepted.”

Shit. Fuck. No. No.

What did I do to deserve this colossal inconvenience?

Coach Leggins continues, “For those of you who know Crew Briggs, I expect you to welcome him and accept his position on the team.” He nods to the corner of the room and out walks Mr. Steal Your Girl himself.

“Crew, welcome back,” Coach says.

The man who has unknowingly been fortunate enough to hold the woman I long for with every fiber of my being stands before me, a new player on my team, and now even more of a threat to the limited time I get to spend with Navy without him around.

We may live together, but she avoids me when she can.

And now, Navy works at Makers and Briggs is back.

I should be happy; Briggs is a great center fielder and my friend.

The word friend causes bile to rise up the back of my throat. I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be able to put on a semi-happy face and fake it.

Whenever I’m in proximity to Navy, I’m tempted to throw caution to the wind and claim her as mine—what she has always been and always will be.

If only I could tell her that.

“Happy to be here, Coach,” Briggs tells the team.

Thrilled, really.

Coach nods, ushering Briggs to join us where we’re seated. “Now onto the second thing. I know this is on a more personal note, but I consider you all family so I’m gonna keep you in the loop.”

Nods and agreement echo in the quiet locker room.

There’s an unspoken anxiousness for the second thing Leggins needs to talk with us about. Last year, he told the team about his wife, Taylor, and her unexpected cancer diagnosis. Saying it shook us is an understatement. Not because we love Taylor—we hardly know her, but we know Coach and it fucking sucks what he’s having to go through—Taylor, too.

Wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

“Tay’s not doing great. Things are declining quickly, and her primary oncologist wants to do some further testing to see how much time she has left.”

Fuck. I wasn’t expecting that kind of news.

“Shit, Coach,” Kingston exhales.

Coach scratches his head. “I wish I had more answers, but we are just taking it a day at a time. She’s in good spirits, which is all I could ask for given the circumstances.”

“Need anything?” Cal asks.

He shakes his head. “Nah. We’re good. You boys have done enough. Now it’s a waiting game and focusing on making her comfortable.”

The silence in the room is deafening. There are no words to take away Coach’s reality, and nothing we can do to make Taylor’s diagnosis go away.

It sucks.

Coach looks at us in a daze. That’s one thing about him I admire: he looks at you head-on when he speaks to you, no matter how difficult the topic of conversation may be.

Coach perks up slightly. “With that being said, there’s a possibility I will have to miss your first spring training game.”

We nod in unison.

Coach’s gaze sweeps the group of players to confirm everyone is on the same page.

We are.

Does it suck? Yes. But family first, always. That’s a motto we have and work hard to keep as a team.

Family over everything.

“You take care of you, Coach,” King calls out and Coach nods.

“Great. Now, the charity gala is next weekend, as you all know. It is in your best interest to bring a date. You know I’m not one for your private lives influencing your game, but you will appreciate a buffer here. This is the one time I will encourage partner relations to coincide with the team. Reputable sponsors will be there—you want to talk to them, trust me on that.”

“Looks like I’m bringing my mama,” Mikey, one of our relievers exclaims.

“I don’t care if you bring your mama, your sister, your friend or your fucking cat. Just show up. And for God’s sake, wear a goddamn tie.”

A tie I can do.

A date though…that’s going to be more difficult.

I could ask Poppy, but I’m still in limbo on whether I want to explore things with her any further.

I know it’s because my heart won’t rid me of the hold Navy has on me.

I guess I’m secretly hoping one day Cal will catch on and give us his blessing. Not that Navy would take me; I’m almost positive I already ruined my chances.

And besides, she has Briggs now.

Looks like I need to figure out a plan or I’ll be showing up alone.

According to Coach, that’s not an option either.