40. Eric
ERIC
It isn’t easy to walk into the big meeting room at the practice facility the next day. Because I’m pretty sure I’m doing it for the last time. As a team member anyway.
So I dawdle a little and walk in at the last second, hoping to slip into a chair in the back row.
But Coach isn’t having that. “Eric Bayer!” he calls from the front. “Come down here, will you? There’s something I need to know.”
I hope he doesn’t make a big deal out of this. I know that retiring is the right move for me, but I don’t really want a lot of attention.
“Gentlemen!” he barks. “You recognize this guy?”
There are chuckles around the room.
“I do. I recognize him as somebody who spent last season keeping a cool head while the rest of us were losing our minds. But look—I’ve been your coach for less than a year. I’ve missed a lot of what this man did for the franchise these last ten years. So I’m going to need you to fill me in.”
It’s very quiet in the room now. I stand beside Coach, hands in my pockets, wondering what he means.
“Do me a favor,” Coach says. “If Eric Bayer has given you a casual tip in the gym that changed your whole workout routine for the better, then please stand up.”
Drake pops out of his seat, saying, “Every damn week!” And four or five more of my teammates rise, too.
My neck heats.
“Now stand up if Eric has ever stepped in to spot you when you needed an extra pair of hands in the gym. Or if he’s lent you a piece of equipment, or if he offered to meet you for a run, so you didn’t have to work out alone.”
Half the room stands up now. My neck is on fire.
“That’s what I thought,” Coach says. “Now stand up if you’ve ever taken the seat next to Bayer’s on the jet, or in the bar, because you knew that he wasn’t going to poke you about some dumbass thing you did.
Or because you knew he wasn’t going to bring you drama.
Stand up if you ever looked at Eric and said—that guy is solid.
If I have to be trapped in an elevator, I hope it’s with him. ”
Every single person in the room is on his feet, now. Including the coaches and support staff. I’m pretty sure I haven’t cried in twenty-five years. I don’t plan to start today.
But it sure is tempting.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Coach says.
“Guys, Eric will be hanging up his skates for a while. But I don’t think we can get along without him.
I can’t tell you how it’s going to work, or exactly what Eric will do with us going forward.
But I will figure it out, because you don’t lose a man like Eric Bayer.
Not without a fight. So please put your hands together for our teammate, Eric Bayer. ”
The cheering, the applause, and the whistles are deafening.
Red-faced now, I slip out the back of the room as soon as I can. Coach doesn’t need me to stay for the meeting, so I go into the locker room alone to remove my skates and my personal items.
It doesn’t take long, honestly. I don’t want to linger, and I don’t need to wallow. So I’m just zipping up my gym bag when my phone buzzes with a message from Bess. How was it? Did he offer you a job?
Basically, is all I say.
At the risk of being an asshole, take a look at this.
The next thing to light up my phone is a photo—it’s me sitting with Bess at the restaurant, eating an avocado taco.
I like tacos, I tell her. So I guess you’re an asshole for making me hungry?
Nah, she replies. It’s an I-told-you-so. I told you that this photo would remind you that you have a lot going for you.
Okay, you win. She’s right. I do have a lot going for me.
Don’t take the job with Coach, she texts next.
Bess, I love you. But can I have an hour to myself before I plan my life?
Sure thing.
I shoulder my gym bag and walk out of the room, purposely not looking back as I go. I don’t know when I’ll be back. But I will be. As a coach, maybe. As a therapist? Or maybe a commentator.
Nah, not that.
I walk down the quiet hallway. Everyone is still in the meeting. But now Bess’s message has piqued my curiosity, and I text her a question.
Who do you want me to work for if it’s not Coach?
My phone rings immediately. I answer it.
“For me, dummy,” Bess says. “I’ve been toying with the idea of taking on a partner. And you’d be an amazing agent. You’re smart. You’re easy to talk to. You know the sport so well.”
And I’m speechless. An agent. Working with players and talking to management? I could do that. I’d love doing that. “You are messing with my head right now.”
“I know,” she says cheerfully. “And guess what? I’m sitting at the avocado taco restaurant right now. Think of it as our office. I just ordered the appetizers. Get down here, okay? I can feed you while I blow your mind.”
“Okay,” I say, because when a woman offers you food, you say yes.
And then I walk out of the practice facility. Into the sunshine, and into the next chapter of my life.
The End
But wait, there’s more! Don’t miss Loverboy, the next book in The Company series! Turn the page for chapter one…