Offsides Attraction

Chapter 1

“The problem is, you’re not likable,” Coach Sam Shockley said. Shockley, the Tetons’ offensive coordinator, sat on the edge of his desk and leaned toward Bash Vetter as if he worried that Bash might break down and need a hug.

“Pardon?” Bash said.

“That,”—Coach pointed at him—“that right there is the reason they don’t like you.”

“I’m not sure how asking you to clarify your statement that I’m not likable proves your point,” Bash said, crossing his arms as Sam raised his eyebrows. “And I’m not sure how being likable affects the line not protecting me.”

“People do a better job of protecting others if they like them.”

“But that’s their job. To protect me and hold the line. This isn’t middle school, coach, it’s the NFL.”

“Yes, but you can’t do your job if they won’t do theirs. And there’s no way you can tell me you’re happy with your performance on the field.”

Bash frowned and looked out the window. Sam had a decent view of the Cascade Mountains in the distance. It wasn’t the skyscrapers of New York City, but it wasn’t bad. His office, like most of the facility, still had that new-construction smell, unlike the training center, which smelled like abandoned sweaty socks.

Bash knew he was a better player than what they’d seen during training camp. He’d played backup with various teams over his nine years in the league and he’d earned the right to start. Coach Shockley had been the Tetons’ starting quarterback for the last three seasons, but he’d traded his cleats for a whistle when he reunited with this family.

As teammates last year, he’d prepped Bash on what to expect as the starting QB, how to handle the increased publicity and the press. Not once had he mentioned team building and bonding, something other people did so easily, but Bash struggled with it. He hated it and he didn’t see the point.

“I’m not, but I don’t see what likability has to do with it. If you’ve got a job to do, you do it. You don’t need to like the people around you. It’s called being an adult.”

“No, Bash, it’s called being a team. Like it or not, since you’re the man with the ball, you’re considered a leader of the team. People follow who they like, and right now they don’t like you.”

“What do you suggest?”

“I suggest you figure it out, otherwise you’ll spend most of your time on your back looking at the sky with a sweaty human tank on top of you.”

“Do you have any specific suggestions?” Vague directions wouldn’t help.

“Stop saying pardon and tone down your vocabulary. While everyone has a college degree, not everyone went to class, if you catch my drift.” Bash did, and he suspected a few universities had shortchanged his teammates on their education. He didn’t think his left tackle had more than a sixth-grade reading level.

“I can do that. What else?” He knew if he kept asking, Sam would give him the answers. Then all Bash needed to do was study the list, implement the easier ones, and see how things went before digging into the harder ones.

“Show some empathy.” Bash swore under his breath and Sam laughed at his distress.

“What else?”

“Be patient. I know you’ve picked up on the new plays and calls, but not everyone is a genius. Give them some time.” Empathy and patience, Bash almost growled. “Once everyone has the big picture, then we can drill down to the details.”

“What else?” Bash asked, squeezing the words past his clenched jaw.

“You could try”—Sam’s phone beeped, and he looked at it—“hey, I gotta run. Ruthie has a checkup.” Sam tossed his laptop and the notebooks on his desk into a bag.

“Sam, I need something more concrete than dumbing down my words. Empathy and patience aren’t my strong suits. You know that.” Bash hated begging, but Sam couldn’t leave him hanging with only those paltry instructions and the charge of fixing their ineffective line. Sam patted him on the shoulder as he sprinted to the door.

“Bash, you’re a smart guy, but a list of items you can check off won’t help. You need to dig deeper. Use your people skills. Connect with people.”

Damn, we’re screwed.

“Cal, catch,” Bash said, tossing his roommate and landlord’s son a bottle as he walked into their rental house. The bottle bounced off Cal’s chest, but he caught it.

“You brought me allergy medicine?”

“You said you were almost out. I was at the store, so I picked it up.”

“Thanks,” Cal said, popping two of the pills. “I feel better already.” The rookie grinned.

“What did you bring me? Flowers?” Lucas Rodrigues, their other roommate, asked, straddling one of the kitchen chairs as it squeaked under him.

“Flowers and allergy medicine don’t mix.”

“So, how’d your meeting with Coach Shockley go?” Lucas asked. Bash slammed a kitchen cupboard door shut and banged a glass on the countertop.

“You know, I liked Sam last year when he was a player. He was a good guy, decent even. But give the guy a whistle and a promotion and suddenly he’s like Oprah and Dr. Phil rolled into one.” Bash added ice to the glass, enjoying the cracking noise as they slammed into each other.

“How so?”

“He thinks the pocket keeps collapsing because no one on the line wants to protect me. I pointed out that’s their job. And then he pointed out it’s that attitude that’s landing me on my ass half the time.” He popped the top of his kombucha, pouring the fizzy drink over the ice and watching the bubbles race to the top of the glass. “Make nice with the team. You’re their leader. Find a way to bond with them,” Bash scoffed, mimicking their offensive line coach.

Lucas shifted in his seat. “Did Coach have any suggestions?” he asked. Bash clenched his jaw. He wasn’t Mr. Popularity like Lucas or Mr. Laid-back like Cal, but after almost a month of living together, Lucas should be defending him. Am I really that bad?

“No, and doing our nails and hair won’t cut it, either.” Bash grabbed his glass and joined them at the kitchen table overlooking the backyard.

“You didn’t really say that to him, did you?” Cal asked, cringing.

“No.” Bash looked between Cal and Lucas, hoping they’d have a solution for him without him having to beg for one.

“Maybe we need an evening out? Just the three of us? Grab dinner and hit a club? You know, baby steps in becoming likable. If we invited the offensive line here for a bonfire, you’d be overwhelmed,” Cal smirked.

Bash gave him a tight smile. “See if I throw you the ball tomorrow.”

“You will.” Right now, Cal and Bash were the hottest combination the offense had. But they were a one-trick pony. To do well this season, they’d need more cards up their sleeves, and Bash needed to stay on his feet, otherwise it would be a very painful and short season.

I need a crash course in People Skills 101.

“He knows us. He needs to practice on a few people he doesn’t know,” Lucas said.

Bash groaned. “Do not tell me to strike up conversations with strangers.”

“Cal, do you think your sisters are available? We could all go on a hike and grab dinner. Low-key and casual. If they survive Bash, we can expand his circle. Baby steps, like you said.”

“I wasn’t raised by wild animals, you know. I have people skills.” Bash scowled.

“So, you just choose not to use them?” Lucas asked.

“I use them when it matters.”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong, Bash. It always matters. People matter and you’re the de facto leader of a professional team sport. People have an easier time following leaders they care about. And right now, there aren’t many players who do, which is why you’ve got more turf burn than the rest of us.”

“I misspoke, and you’re right. It matters. It’s just… I’m just…” Bash sighed and stared at the football-shaped salt and pepper shakers on the table, a move-in gift from Cal’s mom, their landlord.

“You’re reserved and borderline shy. We get it,” Cal said. “But Lucas is right. You need to do a better job leading the offense.”

“Fine. Are your sisters available?”

“Harper’s out of town, but I can check on Penny and Maggie.” Cal pulled his phone out of the side pocket of his cargo shorts. Bash had had his doubts when he’d agreed to house-share with Cal, a fresh college graduate and a local walk-on. But he’d done incredibly well during the try-outs and had earned his position at half-back. He was proving himself useful both on and off the field.

“Isn’t Harper the name of the lady who lives next door in the duplex?” Bash asked.

“Yep, that’s her,” Lucas answered. “She’s the oldest. And then there’s Penny, who works with their Aunt Elspeth at the Get Lost bookstore, and Maggie, who’s the manager at Brewster’s. Cal is the baby of the family.”

“How do you know all this?” Bash asked, wondering if he should take notes.

“Cal’s mom told me when we moved in.”

“Penny and Maggie are both available, so we’ll meet up with them tomorrow afternoon after practice.”

“Excellent. It will be great to hook-up with Maggie—” Lucas broke off at Cal’s frown.

“Excuse me?” Cal’s eyebrows disappeared beneath his heavy bangs.

“I meant see. See Maggie again. We went to community college together before I transferred to State,” Lucas quickly explained.