He was worried about the personnel issues he had with the new coaching staff. We had too many new hires. Not enough seasoned talent.
This was how the first part of the season always started. A complete cluster fuck. But I needed it to go smoother than this. I needed to control it.
The season opener was in two days. Camp was over. The pre-season kicked our asses royally. No one had any faith in the Thrashers. They didn’t think we could pull off a winning season. Looking at this group of lazy ass grown men, I knew why. No one gave a shit. No one had an ounce of passion. An ounce of drive.
But I did.
I shouted at the linemen. “Are you ready?”
They nodded.
“Good. Then let’s go.”
If the guys on the sidelines didn’t want to practice, I was sure some of the rookies did. And if they could catch the ball, I’d request they start on Sundays. All I cared about was getting the W.
I heard the receivers grumble on the field. “Thought he went to some fishing hole. He is not relaxed.”
“What the fuck are you saying over there?”
“Nothing.”
I dropped the ball and ran over to the guy. “If you have a problem with how I’m running practice today, maybe you don’t need to show up. Can’t really tell you’re here anyway.”
The receiver stood. “I said it was nothing.”
The other guys had huddled around us.
“Then shut the fuck up and catch the ball when I throw it.”
I turned, but my anger was still back where I’d left him. I didn’t need some new traded tight end, mouthing off. There was only one person who set the rules around here. And they were making a spectacle of my team. No wonder people were betting against us.
“Wyatt, why don’t we take five?” Coach called. “Everyone’s looking worn out. It’s hot.”
He had finally looked up from his clipboard long enough to realize there was a real problem out here. If we didn’t have things straight on the field who in the hell cared who his third defensive coach was.
“After this play.” Sure I was hot. But we were inside. It wasn’t like we were out in the heat like some teams. It was the entire reason we had indoor training facilities.
I ignored him and walked back to the huddle.
“Let’s try this again,” I announced.
I counted off the snap before stepping back to pass it.
I searched the field for what I wanted to see, but no one was open. Our corner backs were doing a better job than our offense. I cursed under my breath.
“Hell.” I let the ball soar through the air. Someone better catch that shit.
It hit one of the guys in the chest. Not the receiver who was supposed to run the route. Just a lucky bastard who saw where I was headed with the pass.
I threw my helmet to the ground and walked past the coaching staff.
“Wyatt, come on.”
I waved them off and headed for the locker rooms.
It didn’t matter. There was no excuse for it. None. It was bullshit and they knew it.
This wasn’t the summer season anymore. Didn’t they see that? Summer was fucking over. In more ways than I could explain to them.