Changing the Play

Chapter 1

Chapter One

DEREK

“ A lright men, huddle up!”

Blowing the whistle, I watch my team crowd around me. “We’re looking good so far. Friday’s game will be tough, but I know we’ll be able to beat Oceanside. Grab some water, stretch, and then we’re going to start running some drills.”

“Let’s go, Tigers!” one of the players shouts as everyone breaks apart.

“Team’s looking good, Derek,” my assistant coach, Ace, says to me. “Think we’ll head to state?”

“Don’t jinx us,” I chide him.

“What have I told you about that?”

Ace is older than I am by at least twenty years. He’s been coaching almost as long as I’ve been alive. He used to coach up in Washington, but took a step back to move down here to be closer to his family.

I roll my eyes at him. This is nothing he hasn’t told me before. “You can’t jinx it by saying you’ll make it there.”

“Exactly.” He claps me on the shoulder. “Nothing exciting like making the Super Bowl. ”

The laugh that escapes me is awkward. “Not quite.”

Sure, I made it to the Super Bowl, but Vegas never won one. Whenever anyone brings up my playing days, I always get jittery. I don’t have a lot to be proud of from those days.

Except Troy. He’s about the only good thing I have to show from playing.

I want him to have a better man as a father than I was a player. And that’s what I’m trying to teach my guys.

The same ones who are huddled around the water cooler, shooting the shit.

“I’m going to ask Marcy out,” one of them says.

“Where are you taking her?”

I can’t help but smile to myself. Oh the days of when the hardest thing to worry about was asking a girl out. Some days, I wish I could go back to those times. When everything was simpler and I didn’t have the weight of the world on my shoulders.

“I was going to take her out for shakes.”

“That’s so gay, dude. Milkshakes? No way she’s going to put out.”

A groan leaves me. “Isaacs. Five laps.”

His eyes snap to mine, a look of shock there. Isaacs didn’t know I was standing nearby.

Tough shit.

“Aww, c’mon, Coach. I didn’t mean it,” he whines.

“What is my policy?”

“No slurs of any kind.”

I nod. “That’s right. You should be thankful I don’t tack on another five for being disrespectful to women.”

He makes no further comment as he takes off toward the track.

Is this the best way to handle this kind of thing? I don’t know. But when I became the head coach of the Del Mar Tigers, I made a decision. I wasn’t going to put up with anything— anything —that I did when I played for Vegas. It was a bad situation for me there, and I don’t want anything to do with that mentality.

I don’t want to coach the players to become like that. So if they grumble about running laps, so be it. Maybe they’ll learn.

At least I hope.

“Alright. Everyone, on the line.” Blowing my whistle, I watch the team line up and get ready for drills.

This is something they could do in their sleep. I love watching the team learning together. It’s one of the reasons I decided to start coaching high school football, though I never thought anyone would want me to coach their kids.

But here we are.

“Daddy!” A tiny voice calls from near the bleachers. Troy runs to me, his smile bright on his happy face. His nanny, Lottie, trails behind him.

“Hey buddy! Hi Lottie.” I grab him as he leaps into my arms. “How was school today?”

“We had to draw a picture of our family. Look!” He holds up the white piece of paper. It’s sticks and blobs, but I’ve gotten good at deciphering what he creates. It’s me, him, and… “Bud, what’s this?”

I point to the flatter rectangle that’s hidden in the grass.

“A puppy.”

“We don’t have a puppy,” I tell him.

“I know, but I want one.”

“What have I told you about that?”

“That I have to be six before I can get one.”

“That’s right.”

And when he turns six, I’m going to have to think of another reason not to get a dog. Being a single dad doesn’t give me a lot of free time. Add in coaching high school football and any time I have left is devoted to my son. No way would a dog fit into the equation .

“Only two more years.” He holds up three fingers and I grin at him.

Troy is the spitting image of me. Thank God.

He didn’t get a single visible gene from his mother. He’s all bright brown eyes and dark hair. With tiny dimples that pop out anytime he smiles and lashes that any woman would kill for, he’s going to be a heartbreaker.

“Two.” I hold up the correct number of fingers to him and he mimics me. “And you have to learn how to walk them too.”

“I can walk. Watch!” Troy shimmies out of my arms and shows me how he can walk a dog. “Leif has a dog and we play with him all the time.”

Leif. All I hear about is Leif this and Leif that. Two parents, three kids, and a white picket fence.

All things that I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to give the tiny bundle of joy that looks at me like I hung the moon. Troy doesn’t care about much. Football and dogs is about all my four-year-old cares about right now. But I want to give him more. This whole parenting thing would be so much easier if I had someone to do it with.

Troy’s mom isn’t in the picture. I don’t want her anywhere near my son. All she cared about was my money. A jersey chaser if there ever was one.

I’ll do whatever I can to protect him from her.

Anything at all.

Shaking the morose thoughts from my head, I turn to my ever-present nanny.

“I’ve got him from here, Lottie.”

Troy is now in the center of the huddle, trying to show the guys what to do. No other kid would have the gall to do what he does. Little brainiac loves telling the team what they’re doing wrong.

And they take it like the good guys they are .

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Hollins.”

“See you then.”

Just like every other day.

Me and Troy.

I wouldn’t have it any other way.