Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 122219 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 611(@200wpm)___ 489(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122219 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 611(@200wpm)___ 489(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
“Knock, knock,” I said.
She sat at her desk, looking down at her paperwork. “You don’t have to say knock, knock if you’re going to actually knock, Nathaniel.”
Nathaniel.
A telltale sign that she still, indeed, hated me.
I crossed my arms over my chest and stepped into her office. My eyes danced around the space, taking it in for the first time. When I chased her into her office last Friday, I didn’t get a chance to see her space. I was too focused on trying to get her not to hate me.
The space wasn’t huge, but it was a decent size. Much bigger than the office I was given down the hall. Framed photographs of past teams and motivational quotes covered the walls. One was a sign with the word “heart” written over the word “head.” A reminder to lead with one’s heart on the field, more than one’s head. She was the one who taught me that lesson when we were young. I was nervous about my baseball career, and she told me that if I led with my heart, I’d end up at home plate every single time. Heart over head was the saying that changed my confidence, which in turn changed my game.
It was clear she still believed in that technique, which was odd to me, seeing how she seemed to live a lot more in her head than her heart from what I’d noticed.
Her large and well-worn desk sat in the middle of the space. It was covered with lineup sheets, player stats, and a few too many coffee mugs that needed a good washing. In a fancy case was an autographed baseball. I couldn’t help but wonder who signed that thing, but I knew I couldn’t approach it or ask her about it. I was probably already crossing her boundaries by even breathing the same air as her.
A whiteboard filled with practice schedules and game strategies was on the right wall. The number of scribbles over her work showed how much she changed her mind once she found a better game plan. The markings looked like a beautiful disaster, something that probably only made sense to Avery’s brain. I wished I could learn how her thoughts worked in that day and age. How she figured things out and pieced together her strategies.
In the left corner of her office was a bookshelf with a collection of baseball books. Everything from manuals and inspirational memoirs to…was that a baseball romance novel?
That’s slightly shocking, Coach.
I arched an eyebrow, wanting to know more about said book, but Avery cut my curiosity in half as she snapped my way. “What do you want?” she barked. “Or let me guess, you’re here to tell me you’re taking my office space, too.”
Her harsh personality wouldn’t go away anytime soon, so I had to learn to deal with it. I wasn’t afraid of a hard Avery Kingsley. She was hard when I first met her all those years ago on the farm. It took her a little while to warm up to me, let alone fall in love.
I figured it would take some time for her to warm up to my grown-up version, too. Though, I didn’t need her to fall in love with me this time. I just needed her to dip her toe into “like” territory. Because if we were going to make this team the best it could be, there had to be at least some kind of mutual respect between us coaches.
“I was going to head out to meet the guys. I figured it might be good to have you out there with me.”
She glanced down at her watch and muttered something under her breath. She pushed herself away from her desk and grabbed her clipboard. As she walked over to me, she said, “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”
“Sounds good.”
“Can you do me a favor, though?”
“Sure. What’s that?”
A flash of sadness raced through her brown eyes as they fell on mine. “Don’t make me seem too much like a loser when you tell them that you’re the new head coach.”
I swallowed hard as I slid my hands into my pockets. “I’ll do my best, Coach.”
She nodded and walked away. “And don’t call me Coach. I hate that.”
We headed out to the indoor gym facility, which was pretty impressive. When I went to school at Honey Creek High, we did not have the next-level equipment that the school now had. It would make our late-winter, early-spring workouts much more enjoyable. The space was equipped with batting cages, pitching machines, and a huge area for fielding practices.
It was no wonder the school didn’t want to ditch the whole baseball program. They’d clearly invested a lot of money in it.
Not only did they have all this inside but they also had a beautiful outdoor field and a batting cage along with a gigantic gym for strength and conditioning. I knew we would have amazing weightlifting, plyometrics, and other fitness routines in that space.