Present
“At least you get a nice view.”
Human resources director Selma Andrews opened the door to a decent-sized office with neutral tones and sparse furnishings. The smell of fresh paint assaulted me and I had to blink back tears. I was worried the strong scent would cause vertigo. I breathed through my mouth, hoping standing here wasn’t killing valuable brain cells.
“Since the windows don’t open, it’s hard to get the smell out. I’ll have maintenance bring over fans,” she said. She stepped aside.
“Thank you.” I ran my hand over the top of my desk before gently dropping a box of personal items I lugged from the parking lot about a quarter mile away to my new office. The surface of the desk was scratched and slightly dented, but sturdy. I felt it was a good representation of my journey to get to this point. Here I was, day one of being the offensive coordinator for the Connecticut Cheetahs, carrying a box full of notebooks and plays that I knew were going to be beneficial to the NFL expansion team. I was instructed to be here before seven, but judging from the hustle around me, six forty-five was late.
Bill Tatum, head coach for the Cheetahs, stuck his head in the open door. “McCoy, you’re with me.” He motioned me over, completely ignoring Selma who stood awkwardly in the space between us.
She stiffened at his rudeness. She wished me a good first day and turned on her heel. I gave her a soft smile, hoping it helped. I knew that some men didn’t like women invading their territory, but I’d been in the minority my entire life. The things that men have said to me would have made their mothers cry, knowing their sons used such foul language. I wore a suit of armor made of bitter barbs and scars of verbal abuse over the years.
Going into this new endeavor, I was ready for cutting words. Instead, I was greeted with professionalism. I was working as the Vikings’ quarterback coach when the Cheetahs offered me their offensive coordinator position. Their former offensive coordinator was caught on video sexually assaulting a woman at a bar one night. I’d like to think I was hired for my abilities, but I knew I was the token hire. The new team needed a fresh start and I was a woman who filled their résumé demands. It made the team look progressive and it directed the negative attention into something positive.
“Yes, Coach?” I asked.
He smiled at me. “Call me Bill. There’s a team meeting at seven thirty with everyone. We’ll break into position meetings after that. We have a lot to cover. Offense is looking at quarterbacks. Myers tore his ACL so we’re looking at other options.”
I wondered why I was just hearing about it now. “Wow. When did this happen?” I asked. When the Cheetahs joined the NFL, they were given first draft pick and negotiated a hotshot quarterback from Notre Dame to build the new team around. I thought he was good, but not great. They wanted him because he was young, fast, and hungry. Now that I was officially part of the coaching staff, I had a say in who stayed, who got traded, and who was cut. I wasn’t expecting this kind of decision on day one.
“Last Friday. We wanted to wait until we heard back from the doctor to see if it’s repairable, but he’s toast. So, first thing today we’re going to see what scraps are left and who can take us to the playoffs.”
My mind was running through a list of possible names I could throw out if they were open to suggestions. The best players were taken, but I was sure there were a few free agents who could fill the spot. Our backup quarterback was average. There was no way he could bring our team to the championship game. He was third-string talent.
I walked into the large meeting room where players and coaches sat waiting for the meeting to start. Bill introduced me. It was a warm reception.
“I’m Sutton McCoy. I’m excited to be here at the ground level of this new team and anxious to get started on our journey.” They didn’t need to know my résumé. If they cared, they already knew. And I sure as hell didn’t want to bring up why I was there. This was a fresh start for everyone. The room rumbled with “Hey, Coach” and “Welcome” and even some applause.
“Okay, let’s get down to business,” Bill said. He brought up the need for a new quarterback and how it was so important to not make decisions that could result in ending a career before it began. “Meet with your coaches, get taped up, and be careful out on the field today and every day.” When he was done with his somber pep talk, we walked across the hall to a small conference room.
“Here’s your staff. They’ll take good care of you.” He opened the door where three guys dressed in Cheetah polos and khaki shorts sat around a table staring at a list of names on a computer screen. The search for the quarterback’s replacement had already started. “I think you know everyone,” he said before issuing me a final nod and closing the door.
I smiled and shook hands with my staff members. We would expand our staff as we got further into pre-season and regular season, but today, I was meeting with the coaches I would work closest with. I had met with all of them over the last two weeks. Joe Crooks was the wide receivers coach. He was probably my dad’s age and sported a stunning comb-over and a mustache he neglected to trim. How the poking, wiry hairs didn’t bother his lips or nose astounded me. Brandon Trust was the running backs coach. He was a muscular white guy with the start of a gut. Jamal Pierson was the youngest coach on the team, and the only Black guy on the offensive staff. He was the quarterbacks coach and looked miserable at the hand fate dealt him.
“Great to see you again, Sutton,” Brandon said.
“I’m glad to be a part of this. I understand there’s a scramble for a new quarterback,” I said. I sat and stared at the eight names on the screen that our scouts emailed Jamal.
“Of all the luck. Myers goes four-wheeling, pops a wheelie, and the ATV rolls back and crushes his leg. Even if the ACL heals properly, his knee will never be the same.” Jamal sighed and leaned back. “This whole list is nothing but college kids. What about hiring a veteran? Is anybody decent still a free agent? Maybe a veteran can help solidify our team over the next year or two. At least until we can find another young hotshot.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Brandon said. He flipped through a three-ring binder in front of him. “What about Tommy Colvin or Grayson Moats? They both have been in the NFL for about ten years and have played with different teams. It shows they’re versatile.”
Today started out amazing. I kissed my sleepy girlfriend good-bye, scratched my dog behind the ears, had a great cup of coffee, found my parking spot, and walked into a spiderweb named Grayson Moats. As a previous quarterbacks coach, and one with a grudge, I was very aware of him over the last decade. His numbers were good, but not great. He played for Miami, Pittsburgh, and had been riding Baltimore’s bench the last year before recently announcing his retirement.
“Moats just announced his retirement. Where’s Colvin now?” I asked. I already knew but I wanted the focus to be on him, not Grayson. The idea of seeing Grayson with Parker O’Neal at his side made my insides twist painfully.
“He’s third string for Kansas City. He’d probably love the opportunity to start at ground level,” Jamal said. His sagging shoulders lifted somewhat at the news that there was light at the end of the tunnel. “Should we make some calls? Invite them both?”
“Do we want to let them know they are competing for the same job?” I asked. “Let’s bring in Tommy and then if he’s not the right fit, we’ll invite Grayson.” My voice sounded calm even though my anxiety was threatening to explode.
“I’ll give him a call right now,” Jamal said. He gathered his things and stopped to look at me. “I’m glad you’re a part of our team, McCoy. I feel like with you here, we’re already improving.”
“Thank you. My goal is the same as everyone else’s. I want to win games and make the Cheetahs a formidable team,” I said. It sounded rehearsed but I meant it. I also wanted to prove that women could do this job, too. I knew everything about football. When I had the opportunity seven years ago to intern at the NFL, I jumped at the chance. It was the opportunity of a lifetime. Women in the NFL weren’t popular, but I was more than willing to fight my way to the top and prove to the world that I was just as capable.
“I’m glad you are here, too,” Joe said.
My initial conversation with Joe wasn’t warm. He believed in old-school football where men were players and coaches, and women were cheerleaders or wives. He refused to shake my hand when we first met and quizzed me on stats of certain players, coaches, and the league. After fifteen minutes of grilling me and me getting every single answer right, he warmed up. By the end of the interview, we were laughing about incredible football games from before I was born.
“Thanks, Joe. I’m happy to be here,” I said.
“How about we head outside and see what the team is doing?” Brandon asked.
“I’m in.” I jumped up and followed Joe and Brandon out to the field. The Cheetahs had a new stadium, but the training facility and office building needed work. The tax increase on the ballot this fall would give us money for a new office complex. Right now, everything was a Band-Aid, from the fresh paint in our old offices to the hodgepodge equipment room full of secondhand weights and core strengthening machines. For now, training camp was on location, but that would change. Next year we were contracted with a college about two hours away.
“What do you think of the stadium?” Joe asked.
We stood on the fifty-yard-line and looked around. “This is top notch.” It was impressive.
“We’ll get an upgrade for next season on the rest,” he said.
Jamal waved a rolled-up wad of paper he had in his hand to get our attention and jogged over to us. “Colvin is out, but Moats will be here tonight. I’ve made reservations at the steakhouse for all of us.” He turned to me. “You’re good with that, right?”
Fuck me. Day one and I was going to be face-to-face with my high school nemesis. It was bound to happen. When the Vikings played against whatever team he was on, I always made it a point to be up in the booth working out plays. I was never down on the field. Now I was going to have to bump elbows with him at dinner.
I forced a smile and nodded. “That sounds great.” My stomach churned. “Just coaches or families, too?” I couldn’t bring myself to say wife or spouse. Even fifteen years later when I should have been over everything, I couldn’t let go of the tug Parker had on my heart.
“Just us and him. It’ll be a quick meeting. We’ll send a car to pick him up tonight,” Jamal said.
“What happened to Tommy?” I asked, hoping my voice sounded normal with just a touch of concern.
“He isn’t interested in starting all over with a new team. He doesn’t feel like uprooting the family and wants to end his career with KC.” Jamal shrugged. I never understood why some players walked away from opportunities after getting this far. I would love to play again, especially for the NFL. Even though I was older, I could still throw a spiral fifty yards.
“Did you call Terry?” Brandon asked.
Terry Scotsman was the general manager of the Cheetahs. I met him once during the interview process and a few times at NFL functions in the past. He was a quiet man with deep pockets and a southern accent.
“He’ll be there. Our reservation is at seven so we have a lot of ground to cover before dinner,” Jamal said.
I spent about twenty minutes with each coach and his players. My adrenaline had worn off, so by lunch, I was ready for carbs. We went back to the conference room and reviewed practice film. It was going to take a lot to get this new team to gel. According to Brandon, the plays were designed around Myers. With him out and no quarterback signed, it was hard to get the offense excited.
I stood next to Brandon and listened to him bark out today’s plans. That was my job, but they were easing me into it. They practiced running plays, trap plays, and our backup quarterback threw several decent passes. The rest of the afternoon was a complete blur. We finally broke at six, but instead of going home and reviewing plays at my leisure, I had to take a quick shower, iron clothes, and head to the steakhouse. Best and worst first day ever.
* * *
A look of complete surprise washed over Grayson’s face when we were introduced. He broke into a grin that highlighted the perfect five o’clock shadow on his square jaw. “Sutton. Wow. Look at you.”
Jamal looked back and forth between us. “You two know each other?”
“You could say we were friendly rivals in high school. It’s good to see you again, Coach McCoy,” Grayson said. There was no animosity in his voice. I wanted to hate him for our history, for his success, but he seemed genuinely nice. He was still handsome with dirty blond hair that was a touch too long and brushed the collar of his white button-down shirt. He’d aged well and filled out.
“Good to see you, Grayson.” The words tasted bitter.
“So, you’re in the NFL. That’s great. You were with the Vikings before, right?” At my curt nod, he smiled and turned to the other coaches. “This woman gave me a run for my money in high school. She beat me, fair and square, and took her team to state. She knows her stuff.”
“Sutton, why didn’t you mention you knew Grayson?” Jamal asked.
I shrugged. “First day. I didn’t want to sway you all one way or the other.” I was amazed my voice sounded so steady.
“Tell us about yourself, Moats,” Jamal said after we placed our orders.
“I’m sure you have all my stats and probably know them better than I do or I wouldn’t be here.”
Joe roared with laughter and slapped his meaty hand on the table. “He’s not wrong. Would moving here be a problem with your family? You have children, right?”
“Yes, my wife and I have two girls. Violet and Rose. They are young enough that we don’t mind moving.”
Grayson looked at me but didn’t bring up the past. I smiled, recalling the sweet blond girls I’d seen cheering on their father. Whenever I saw them on TV, it was hard not to look at Parker, but eventually I got to the point where I could ignore her and focus on the children. They looked so much like her.
We didn’t talk shop until after we all finished dinner. I was surprised I could even swallow food around Grayson, but I ate my steak and salad and even contributed to the conversation. I wanted to hate him, but he acted like we didn’t have a wicked history. He was easygoing and quite charming.
“So, what are you thinking? A year? Two?” Grayson asked.
“A year contract with the possibility of an extension depending on how the season goes, but we’ll get into that with your agent. We just want to see if you’re interested,” Jamal said. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms in front of his chest waiting for Grayson’s response. I needed to find out what kind of deal we were offering. Everything was happening so fast.
“Well, I’m up for the challenge. I’d like to make an impression somewhere and I can’t think of a better place than a fresh team,” Grayson said.
Jamal was beaming. I already knew what he thought. Brandon and Joe both gave me curt nods, and Terry folded his arms across his chest. He was measuring Grayson up, but I could tell he was pleased with Grayson’s answer. Grayson seemed so genuine and not like the smug asshole I remembered from a lifetime ago.
We finished our drinks and on our way out, Grayson pulled me aside. “Hey, Sutton. I wanted to make sure us working together was going to be okay. I mean, because of Parker.”
Hearing him say her name almost made me wince. “Parker was a long time ago, Grayson. I’m fine working with you. We were kids and we’ve all moved on.” I gave him a soft smile to emphasize my point even though I couldn’t swallow.
“That’s great to hear. Sorry for being such a shit back then. You know, about everything. You were a great quarterback, and I was jealous. I’m glad we’re on the same team now. Or maybe soon to be, you know.” He held out his hand.
A handshake. Years of despising this guy for taking the one thing I treasured most, and he was offering me a handshake to forgive and forget. It was childish of me to harbor the negativity. They had moved on. Truthfully, even I did. I shook his hand. “I look forward to bossing you around,” I said.
He threw his head back and laughed before patting me on the back. “You’re okay, Sutton. I have a feeling we’re in for a wild ride.”