Chapter Forty-Four
Asher Ryan, Part Two-Wyatt
Ithink we have a real shot at stopping the athletic department from cutting programs.
I mull that thought over as I walk toward the football training complex Monday afternoon. Luca is onboard with Twenty Together and said he would talk to all the other captains of the major men’s sports: football, basketball, and baseball.
But I still need Asher Ryan to be onboard. He’s not only the most popular athlete on this campus, but he’s nationally known. If he speaks out?
The athletic department will most likely listen.
So I texted him and asked if I could meet him outside of the football training complex, that it’s important, and it involves Grace.
He agreed.
I lean up against the wall outside the main entrance. I study the building, another state-of-the-art indoor training complex, and pull out my phone. I know this was just completed a few years ago. I type in a few things and confirm my suspicions.
It cost more than fifty-five million dollars, and one private donor gave ten million to the project. The person wasn’t even an alum, just had ties to the area and was a fan of the football team.
There is money to be found for these other teams. I know we can do it.
The glass door opens, and Ryan walks out, dressed in a gray “OCU Football” shirt and shorts. He stares at me, suspicious, as he approaches, stopping when he’s a few feet from me. “What about Grace?” he says, getting to what interests him the most.
I take a breath and exhale, reminding myself this is for Grace, and that’s why I’m going to deal with this asshole. “I need your help,” I say simply.
Asher folds his arms across his chest. “Why should I help you with anything regarding Grace?”
UGH, he’s such a dickhead.
“I’m ignoring that bullshit because I do need your help. A lot of athletes need your help, Ryan. Grace is just one of them.”
His brows form a confused V. “What?”
I fill him in on the rumors that are starting to come out of the athletic department.
How McCall and the student sports magazine are digging in and only got a lame statement from the athletic department today saying the budget is merely being “reviewed” as it always is.
I tell him about the artistic swimming locker room, and I can see the shock in his eyes.
I share that an article is going to hit the student magazine website tomorrow, comparing the facilities and some budget figures.
I end with talking about the concept for Twenty Together.
“I know Luca will get all the captains for the major men’s sports onboard.
But if we can get all the sports programs at OCU standing as one?
That’s huge. And you have additional power, Ryan,” I say, getting to the heart of the matter.
“You have a huge platform. When you talk, the national media listens. So I’m here asking for your help. To help these athletes. To help Grace.”
His eyes meet mine. I wait for him to tell me to fuck off, or that he could care less or doesn’t want to be involved, he’s focused on his future NFL career or winning the Heisman or something like that.
“Okay,” he finally says.
“Okay?”
“What you just said is stupid. Are you telling me there’s not a few things that could be cut from the budget of this building to keep the swimming and diving programs?
” he says, tilting his head to the complex door next to him.
“Or they can’t give us time to find new donors and sponsors?
Alumni who might want to help? These programs might be able to be self-supporting. ”
I exhale in relief. “Thank you. Thank you for being a part of this.”
He nods but folds his arms across his chest. “Just to be clear, I’m not doing this for you, Jacobs. I’m doing it for the other athletes. I’m doing this for Grace because she deserves better. She deserves better than you, too, but unfortunately, she’s determined not to see that.”
Then he walks away, going back inside the training facility.
Dickhead, I think as I watch his retreating back.
But a dickhead who is going to send a very powerful message to the athletic department at OCU.
***
“Jacobs, come see me after you’re dressed,” Coach yells right after he’s blown his whistle and ended practice for the day.
“Yes, Coach,” I say. I skate off the ice, hoping he didn’t see something he didn’t like. I thought I had a good practice today. Maybe there’s something in my game he wants to tweak.
I go to my stall and strip down with the other guys.
Today’s atmosphere is completely different from the scrimmage atmosphere a couple of weeks back.
Sebastian is in charge of the music today, so rap music is blasting.
Guys are ripping each other and laughing.
I hit the shower, wrapped up in my own thoughts.
McCall and Jax’s story coming out tomorrow.
My conversation with Ryan today. Opening night on Friday, knowing Grace will be there to cheer me on.
And my parents coming in on Friday for the entire weekend.
I stand still, letting the water cascade over me, anxiety beginning to ripple through me, building bit by bit. I have to tell Dad about Grace. I won’t hide her from them—she’s a part of my life now and she’ll be a part of it this weekend, whether he likes it or not.
But I’m worried.
My Dad is going to hate this. Mom will say nothing. Rachel will be vocal and on my side. But I don’t want Dad to express his true feelings to Grace. He needs to be an adult and be nice to her and save his bullshit for me.
I swallow as the anxiety reaches its peak with my biggest fear.
What if Grace decides she doesn’t need this kind of crap in her life?
What if my dad acts like a jerk? I’ve defied him before, and I can live with the consequences of that, but now I’m bringing Grace into this bullshit, and she doesn’t deserve that.
I clench my jaw and turn off the water, anger battling the anxiety for control of my thoughts. I’m being an idiot, I counter. She loves me. She’s told me she loves me, and she shows me every day. My dad can be an idiot, and she won’t care.
Until she does.
I grab a towel and dry off, wrapping it around my waist. I finish getting dressed and then stop by Sebastian’s stall. “I’m going to see Coach now. I’ll meet you guys over at the hall for dinner.”
Sebastian nods. “Okay. See you.”
I make my way down the long corridor to Coach’s office. The door—as usual—is open, and I rap my knuckles against the door frame.
Coach looks up from his phone and smiles at me. “Jacobs, come on in. Close the door behind you.”
Confused, I shut the door and step inside. Coach tilts his head to one of the two seats facing his desk. “Have a seat.”
I sit. He leans forward, his hands clasped over some paperwork. “I have some news for you,” he says. “This is based on what I’ve seen since you’ve been back. You’re not the same player you were last year.”
“No, Coach, I’m not.”
“You’ve worked hard. Improved. You’ve also grown up. What you asked me about this morning proved that to me.”
I stare at him, stunned. “Thank you, Coach.”
“I’ve watched how you’ve interacted with others this month.
I don’t even think you know it, but you’re a leader, Jacobs.
It’s something that I’ve seen grow within you.
Wyatt, you’re a good man, on and off the ice, and I think you should be our other alternate captain.
I made the decision last week, but this morning only confirmed I was right. ”
My mouth drops open. “Coach?”
He gets up and walks across his office. I turn and watch him over my shoulder as he picks up a black OCU jersey that is neatly folded on a table. He returns and extends the jersey to me. I take it and stare at it.
It’s my number, 92.
And when I turn it over to the front, I find the A stitched on the left side of the jersey.
I find my throat closing up. I can’t find the words to speak. I never saw myself as the man Coach just described. Yeah, I’m good at hockey, but to wear this? To command that kind of respect, to be trusted to lead on and off the ice?
It’s huge.
And I owe it all to Grace. She’s helping me grow up. Think about things other than hockey. I’m a better person because of her, and even though I didn’t realize it, it made me a better hockey player, too.
“Coach, this is a tremendous honor. Thank you. I won’t let you down.”
“I know you won’t. This means you’ll be talking in the press conference on Wednesday, so media relations will coordinate with you to go over a few things beforehand,” he says.
He quirks a brow. “Might be a good platform for you to drop a few thoughts you have on Twenty Together, but you didn’t hear that from me. ”
I rise, and Coach pulls me into a bro hug. He claps me on the back, and I leave his office, my head spinning. I have so many things to do. I need to talk to Luca and Luis Hernandez, the other alternate captain, and tell them I’m excited and honored to stand with them this season.
I stop walking and stare down at the jersey in my hand, my fingers moving over the A. I’m the alternate captain. I have a voice, and I will use it Wednesday, just like Coach suggested.
Before that, though, I have to talk to my dad. Not only to tell him I’m the alternate captain.
But to tell him about Grace.