Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 91820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
“Look, West.” He leans forward and rests his arms on his desk, linking his hands. “I’m not one to beat around the bush, so I’m just gonna say it.”
Fuck. This is it.
“You need to get that girl back.”
Huh. What?’
“I’m probably crossing some line here, but this needs saying. You’re a good player, West. You’ve always been a good player. Reliable. You train and work hard. But I knew there was more in you, a greatness that you were holding back. I tried to get it out of you for years, and I’d see glimpses of it on the field. You’d pull some amazing shit out of nowhere, and then I wouldn’t see it for another four or five games. That greatness, those moments … they’re the only reason I’ve kept your ass on this team. Mainly because I figured, one day, you’d let go of whatever shit had been holding you back, and you’d explode onto the scene like you were always meant to. But honestly, lately, I was starting to get doubtful. Then, that shit in the press happened. Not your finest moment, but we’ve had worse than a player snorting a little coke at a party when he was a punk kid.
“You went away on that trip, and when you came back, it was like a switch had been flipped inside of you. You came on the field, and you were fucking here. That’s why I pushed you all so hard that first day. Because you were flying and I wanted to see what was gonna come out of you.
“You fucking showed up that day, Oakley. And every day after that. Your game was at the level it was always meant to be. The rest of the team and I were pissing our pants for the season to start and to get you out there. Because if you kept going that way, then no one and nothing would stop you.”
I know I was playing better after I got back. I felt better. Sure, Coach and the team were passing me praise, in line with where I was fucking up, but nothing that seemed out of the ordinary. I had no idea that I had been playing at my peak best.
“That all stopped a week ago. When your girl went home. And, yes, I know she left. I keep track of my boys’ private lives. What happens out there affects what happens here.” He taps his finger on the desk. “It’s not a fucking coincidence that she left and your performance took a nosedive into the shit pit. You ain’t even good anymore, kid. I’ve got rookies out there who can outplay you with their eyes shut.”
“Gee, thanks, Coach.”
“It’s the truth, and you know it. You want your ass kissed? Then, get yourself to DC and spend some time listening to those bullshitting politicians because you sure ain’t gonna get your ego groomed in here. Your daddy could be Jesus himself, and I’d still be saying the same things that I’m saying now. And that girl was good for you, Oakley. I don’t know what you did to fuck it up—and I know you fucked it up because aside from the game, the one other thing us ballplayers are good at is fucking up our lives.” He lets out a sigh.
“Your head’s not in the game, Oakley, and I need it back before the season starts. I need the West Oakley who came back and showed us what he’s actually made of. Now, I’m not here to tell you how to run your life. But something’s gotta change. From what I’m seeing, that girl, she was a good look on you, and she made you happy. You came to the game better than ever. All those stresses and worries that you’d been carrying around left. I know it can’t be easy, having your daddy sitting in the White House. But when something makes you as happy as I saw that girl make you, then a man would have to be a damn fool to let that go.”
thirty-three
Dillon
The coffee shop is busy, and the line is long. It’s midday on a busy Saturday. I’ve only been working here a week.
The day after the confrontation with my mum, I decided to drag my arse out of the house and back into the land of the living, and I saw the sign in the window that they were hiring. I’d gone to get a coffee and come back with a job. It’s not forever, but the pay’s okay, and the hours are good. It’ll do me until I figure out what I’m actually going to do with my life.
This isn’t my first busy day. Every day is busy here. People like their coffee. I do too.
I’m only taking the orders and working the till. I’m not making the coffee, thankfully; otherwise, the line would be even longer. I’m slow as shit.