Excerpt of Love and Sportsball #2
I went over the short speech I’d prepared and memorized. I wanted the words to sound natural, like I’d made them up on the
spot instead of rehearsing. It was important for me to not come off as stiff and unapproachable, but at the same time, I wanted
to present as professional, confident, like I belonged. The accompanying well-practiced smiles appeared genuine and hid the
battering ram of nerves knocking around in my gut.
This was my first official head position, and I was ready. I knew my worth and my abilities. No more being used as an interim lead only to have someone
from the outside be brought in to take over. Unlike in LA, I’d have no more empty platitudes about how I was an asset to the
team, but . . . There was always a but.
I laughed to myself at the irony of it all. Me, someone who couldn’t care less about sports, had stumbled into a career surrounded
by them. But once I was in, I’d gone all in—career wise at least—and now I was the athletic trainer for a WNBA team. And my five-year plan was still on track.
Hold a position of prestige.
Make connections and build a solid reputation.
Pad my portfolio to show I was worth the economic risk.
Have an ironclad business plan.
Open my own physical therapy business.
That was my endgame and I would not lose sight.
With a final glance, I headed out of my room and down to the kitchen. I tried to ignore the writing on the magnetic whiteboard
on my fridge. In my rush to get to brunch, I’d not paid attention, but Shae had left her number anyway, scrawled neatly next
to my grocery list. I’d started to erase it countless times, but couldn’t quite bring myself to do it.
Later. I’d deal with that later.
Grabbing my bag and travel coffee mug, I headed out to the arena. There was a moment of panic worrying my key card wouldn’t
work to get me into the staff parking, but the light turned green, and the iron gate jumped then creaked as the mechanisms
cranked it open. I whipped into a spot and stared at the basic gray building.
Squeezing my hands on the steering wheel, I closed my eyes and counted to ten.
You can do this. You earned this.
I repeated the affirmations in my head in an attempt to beat down the first-day jitters. I knew my stuff and knew I was damn
good at my job, but years of being passed over had started to chip away at some of my confidence. Roadblocks, a detour, but
I’d landed on something bigger and better.
When I was ready, I exited my Fiat and headed toward the steel double doors. Again, the light turned green when I held my
pass up to the scanner and a click sounded, releasing the lock. My shoes echoed on the tile floor as I made my way down the
hall, trying to recall the layout from when I’d done my final interview and had been given a quick tour.
After getting turned around twice, I managed to find my way to the training room where my modest office was located. Standing
in the space, I inhaled the scent of . . . empty. Not even a faint odor of cleaning supplies. Most of the room was made up
of exercise equipment, which was expected, but there were also three physical therapy tables and storage racks—slightly disorganized—with
elastic bands, towels, and other supplies I’d use. I made a mental note to get those arranged to better suit my needs and
to do a complete inventory so I could order any additional items I required.
I made my way to the two closed doors and ran my hand over one of the nameplates: Khadijah Upton, Athletic Trainer.
Inside, my office was bare-bones. A basic metal desk, three chairs, shelving.
The walls and flooring sported the team colors.
But it was all mine. After years of being the assistant at first the high school level, then in college sports, I was finally the one calling the shots.
“You’re early.” The voice behind me made me jump.
I turned to find Dillyn Smith, the head coach, in a much more casual outfit consisting of dark blue nylon athletic pants that
made a soft swooshing noise as she walked and a team T-shirt. She had several file folders and a tablet tucked under her arm.
We’d met briefly during my second interview, and she’d come off as an easygoing woman. Down-to-earth, logical, a personality
I felt I would easily work well with.
And again, I was slightly envious of the shaved head she pulled off. Without thinking, I reached up to pat my own hair, imagining
the time I’d save. If I had to guess, I would have said she was probably five to seven years older than my thirty-two, but
her smooth, medium-brown complexion gave nothing away. I could only go by the seemingly strategic gray patch in the front
of her low buzz cut and the few spatterings around her temple.
“Good morning, Coach Smith. I wanted a chance to get in and get a bit oriented before meeting the team.”
Her dark brown eyes crinkled at the side when she smiled. “Good. Good. I was just dropping these off. Player’s medical records
so you can get up to speed.” She set the items on the desk. “But later, come meet the rest of the coaching staff.”
Digging into the team files was something I desperately needed to do.
They wouldn’t release them to me until after my background check cleared, and the paperwork had hit some strange snag that had taken longer to settle.
I’d had to rely on basic internet research to get an idea of where the team stood physically, but I knew those reports were lacking at best. Putting my desire to the side, I nodded and followed her down the corridor to a smaller room that held a few folding chairs, a long table, and a large whiteboard with a premade basketball court on one side.
I met the assistant coaches, Jason Vickers, a tall light-skinned guy with a full beard and a friendly smile, and Tyler Adams,
a pale slender guy with dark hair. Marni Wilson was the strength and conditioning coach. Like Coach Smith, the brunette was
a retired player who’d spent her game time overseas then turned coach. She had the office next to mine and would be the one
I’d work the closest with. They filled me in on the challenges they’d faced with turnover in the coaching staff, especially
with keeping someone in my position. And they all hoped I’d be around for more than a season.
My anxiousness went into overdrive at the news. I was curious as to what the issue was there. Had the previous trainers quit
or were they let go? But I didn’t voice the question. I didn’t want to come across as a gossip. However, a new determination
kicked in. I’d never been fired from a job, and I didn’t plan to start now.
Work was the one aspect of my life I always managed to wrangle into success. I’d hit some snags, some roadblocks, but I persevered,
ending up in better places than where I’d left. I belonged here, and would prove I would be an asset to the team.
After about an hour, voices carried down the hall, prompting Coach Smith to direct us all to the locker room.
“Knock, knock, ladies. Everybody decent?” Coach asked as she walked in.
After they all gave the okay, Jason and Tyler crossed the threshold, and I followed behind them, staying close to the door.
“Welcome back, ladies. I hope you’re all ready to put in the work for a kick-ass season.
” There were a few cheers and agreement.
Coach clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention.
“Alright, alright. Okay, since most of y’all are here, I’ll go ahead and introduce our newest Cannon, athletic trainer Khadijah Upton. ”
There were a few murmurs and claps. I pulled in a breath and put a smile on my face. My introduction speech was memorized
and ready to be spoken. I stepped between Jason and Tyler and the audience of tall people looked in my direction, but it was
one set of eyes on me that made my breath catch in my throat and my mind go blank. Every practiced word lost.