Page 12 of Going for Two
“Nolan, one second.” Adam put a hand on my shoulder to stop me from following Derek out the door. Derek flashed the two of us a smile before he got in his car and drove off, leaving me and Adam standing on his front steps.
“You’ll kill yourself before you even get to retirement with how much pressure you’re trying to put on yourself to achieve one last great hurrah before the inevitable comes.”
I should have known that Adam would see right through me down to the real problem I was facing.
“Easy for you to say.” I regretted the bitterness behind my words the second they left my mouth. Adam had been one of the first friends I made in this town when I first entered the league. The two of us ended up at the same charity event, both of us just starting our careers, and became friends through our shared experiences.
“The Nolan Hill I know wouldn’t let one season unravel him. The Nolan Hill I know would come back stronger by putting his head down and doing what he knows best. He’s one of the hardest-working people I know, and he would stop at nothing to get his shit together.”
“I’m trying, Adam. I really am.” My voice cracked as the last word left my mouth and I sighed as I realized that I had exposed just how badly I was doing.
My friend stared at me for a few long beats before he spoke again. “You need to find a way to trust yourself again. Stop obsessing over what you did wrong and start thinking of all the things you’ve donerightover your career, Nolan.”
Adam cleared his throat as if he was thinking over what he was going to do next before he reached out and wrapped me in a hug that I didn’t know I needed in that moment.
“I know you’ll figure it out. Don’t forget who you are and what you’ve sacrificed to get here.”
Adam stepped back so he could look me in the eyes.
“And don’t be scared about retirement. We’ve spent our whole lives always dedicating and sacrificing for our sports. Now it’s time to just enjoy slowing down for a bit. It won’t be easy.Trust me, I’m sure I’ll drive Nora crazy by the end of the first week—but hell, maybe the two of us will be commentators or something. The opportunities will come.”
The opportunities will come. That sentence bounced around in my head all the way home.
Chapter 6
Nolan
Don’t forget who you are.
The dull roar of the crowd rumbled on just down the tunnel that opened onto the field. I could see the flash of the cheerleaders’ pom poms as they waited for us to run out. My teammates bounced around next to me, trying to contain the adrenaline rush.
I repeated Adam’s words again like a mantra as I waited for our signal to start toward the field.
Don’t forget who you are.
I spent all day yesterday rewatching game film after my conversation with Adam Friday night. Except this time, I didn’t bother watching any of the film from last season. Instead, I watched film of myself throughout my career. It was a reel of highlights that I hoped would bring back a sliver of the confidence I used to have. By the end of the day, that old excitement that I used to get before the first game of the season had started to come back. It was a completely different experience waking up early for today’s game. It felt like Christmas morning, and I was too excited to sleep in. It gave me hope that maybe I was on the right path to the season that I’d been dreaming about.
I had continued to avoid Lottie at yesterday’s practice. Which I’d come to realize would be much harder than I thought it would be because she seemed to arrive at the practice facility earlier than anyone else—even me. By the end of the week, thetwo of us had fallen into some sort of understanding. She would leave a list of exercises for me to do after the initial heat prep and electro-stimulation and I would do them without arguing. Other than that, our interactions had been minimal.
One of the Bobcats’ staff members gave us the green light. In a flash, Derek took off down the tunnel as he led the rest of the team out onto the field. The roar of the crowd grew louder to an almost deafening decibel as soon as we emerged. The first time seeing a full stadium with excited fans would never get old. There were fans that had tickets for generations, super fans that would dress to the nines in full team regalia, and little kids watching their very first NFL games. Those were the people that we played for—Bobcat nation—and their energy was contagious.
Media waited around the edge of the field to catch the first photos of the season that would be posted on social media apps within minutes. The average person probably wondered what it would be like to stand in our shoes—the pressure that came from the fans, the attention from the media, the theatrics that the NFL layered on top of anything, and then the fact that this was our job and if we didn’t perform, we were reprimanded just like a normal nine-to-five.
As a rookie, it had almost been too much between the pressure and the expectations. Sometimes it still was. But over a decade in and the noise from the crowd faded away, the cameras with long lenses to capture each moment of the game disappeared, and only the field, my team, and the football remained. This was the sport that I fell in love with at ten years old. It was the game that I learned from my father, and he had learned from his. It had taught me life lessons that had made me into the man I am today, even if it had hardened me within these last few years.
The national anthem and coin toss passed in a blur of anticipation as my fingers itched for the first snap and throw of the game. We won the coin toss and decided to receive thekick. After our kick returner got us good positioning on the field near the thirty-yard line, I was running onto the field with the offense.
Coach Randolph, my head coach, called the play, which came in over a headset in my helmet. The cheers from the fans around the stadium were so loud that I could barely hear him. I had to cover the ear holes in my helmet to try and muffle the noise. This wasn’t something new when playing at Gateway Stadium. The energy inside was a part of the home field advantage that we had as a team. We’d grown accustomed to the noise the stadium held on game day. We knew how to respond. It was the other team that had to adjust and figure out how to play in these conditions.
After I relayed the play call to the team, we lined up in formation. It felt like slipping back on a pair of well-worn shoes, perfectly molded to my feet. Or getting back on a bike that I hadn’t ridden in some time—muscle memory took over.
Scan the defense.
Do I see anything I need to tell my team about?
Should the play still be on?
Set. Hike.