Chapter 14 - Coach Brody Came To My House
Coach showed up Sunday afternoon.
No whistle.
No Hawthorne gear.
Jeans and a jacket.
Dad opened the door.
They stared at each other.
Coach said:
“Can we talk?”
Dad looked at me.
Not deciding.
I nodded.
We sat in the living room.
Coach remained standing at first.
Then apparently realized it looked ridiculous and sat too.
He looked at me.
“I’m resigning.”
My chest tightened.
“Were you fired?”
“No.”
“Were you going to be?”
“I don't know.”
Dad asked:
“Then why resign?”
Coach looked irritated.
“Can I speak to Tyler?”
Dad leaned back.
“Go ahead.”
Coach looked at me.
“The school offered to continue the review with me on leave.”
“And?”
“I don't want every recruit I've ever brought in reinterpreted through Merritt.”
“Why not?”
“Because most of what I did was good.”
Dad said nothing.
Coach continued.
“I helped families.”
“Yes,” I said.
“I brought kids here who would've never gotten a look.”
“Yes.”
“I spent nights calling colleges for you.”
“I know.”
“I drove Malik home for a month when his father's car was totaled.”
“I know.”
His eyes were wet now.
That surprised me.
“So I don't want to sit around while people decide the only reason any of it happened was donor money.”
I looked at Dad.
He stayed out.
I asked:
“Did you lie to Financial Aid?”
Coach exhaled.
“Yes.”
Clean.
“Why?”
“Because if I said Thomas had specific names, they'd slow everything down.”
“Maybe say no.”
“Yes.”
“And you thought that was stupid.”
“Yes.”
“Did you think Dad would refuse?”
“Yes.”
“Did you think I would?”
Coach stared.
“I never considered asking you.”
That answer hurt differently.
I wasn't the adult on the tuition contract.
But I had been the product everybody was moving around.
Coach said:
“You were fourteen when this started.”
“I'm seventeen now.”
“I know.”
I leaned forward.
“Why did you come here?”
He looked at Dad.
Then back at me.
“Because I don't want the last thing between us to be you thinking I only saw you as a recruiting win.”
I believed him.
That didn't fix it.
“I don't.”
He looked relieved.
I continued.
“I also think you liked being the person who made my future possible.”
His relief disappeared.
Dad glanced at me.
Coach took the hit.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Coach laughed softly.
“Because it feels good.”
There was the most honest sentence he'd given me.
“To have people need you?”
“Yes.”
Dad finally spoke.
“That's expensive.”
Coach looked at him.
“You would know.”
Dad's face tightened.
I expected a fight.
Instead he nodded.
“Yes.”
Coach looked surprised.
Dad continued:
“I sent Tyler here partly because I wanted to be the father who could give him this.”
I stared.
Dad didn't look at me.
“Then when I couldn't afford it the way I wanted, I hid that.”
Coach said:
“And I solved it.”
“For me.”
“Yes.”
“Without me.”
Coach nodded.
“Yes.”
They sat in the same uncomfortable truth.
Coach stood after a while.
At the door I asked:
“Are you done coaching?”
“I don't know.”
I smiled.
He noticed.
“Apparently that's contagious.”
“Yeah.”
Then he said:
“College coaches still want you.”
My chest tightened.
“How do you know?”
“Because I asked.”
I stared.
Coach shrugged.
“I resigned. I didn't die.”
Dad almost laughed.
Coach looked at me.
“One piece of advice.”
I waited.
“Don't choose a school because you owe somebody.”
I looked at Dad.
Then back at Coach.
“Did you just steal his line?”
“Yes.”
For the first time since all this started, the three of us laughed at the same thing.
Coach left.
I watched him walk to his car.
I still loved the man.
May you like
I was still angry.
Both survived the afternoon.
