Page 20 of Play For Me

I just need to get through the awkward first steps. Meeting new people. Trying to develop a rapport with strangers. Readjusting my schedule to work around their practices and competitions.

I’ll be fine once I get through all that. I hope.

Maybe she senses that I need a moment, because Em draws my attention away from the unopened email. “Remind me what teams you put in for?” she asks.

“First choice was swimming, yeah?” Jay asks. “I bet that’s where they’ll put you.”

“That’s the hope,” I mutter, eyes darting back to the message sitting in my inbox. “They usually manage to assign everyone to their first or second choice.”

“What was your second?”

“Men’s soccer.”

Jay nods. “That wouldn’t be bad either.”

They’re both sports I have a lot of familiarity with. I swam competitively when I was younger and did soccer as well asbaseball in high school. Honestly, baseball would probably be my preference but that’s a spring sport. Swimming has been my main form of exercise since I started college, so I spent the summer designing multiple variations of a strength and recovery program I’ve used myself in anticipation of the clinicals.

I rub my forehead. “I’m just hoping they don’t stick me in like, gymnastics or something. That would be a disaster.”

Next to me, Jay shrugs. “You’d figure it out.”

I raise a skeptical eyebrow. “I know nothing about?—”

“Yeah, but you’d figure it out.” His expression is suddenly much more serious than I’m used to seeing on him. “It might be hard. You might struggle. But you’d get out your books and you’d do a lot of research, and you’d put together a training regimen that kicks ass.” He leans forward a little, our gazes locking. “That’s what you do, Sol. You figure it out.”

I sit back, a little stunned, and adjust my glasses. “Uh…” I clear my throat. “Thanks, man.”

He shrugs it off like it’s nothing.

But his comment gives me the confidence to click on the email. My eyes scan the text—reminders about what the program entails, what’s expected of us, the code of conduct we must adhere to in working with the student athletes. Halfway down the page is a bolded section and I direct my attention there.

NAME:Solomon Barnes

STUDENT ID: SB-4765465

GRADE: Senior/5 Year Master’s Program

ASSIGNMENT: Women’s Soccer

CONTACT: Devon Hughes

“Huh,”I mutter sitting back in my chair.

“What is it?” Em asks as Jay again tries to lean over my shoulder to see the screen.

“Women’s soccer. I wasn’t expecting that.”

“You didn’t have that as one of your choices,” Jay says, frowning.

“No, I didn’t.” I’m not sure how I feel. It’s not that I’m upset about the idea of working with the women’s team. Soccer is soccer. The only reason I specified men is because I’d been a soccer player myself, so I have several training programs already written. But that doesn’t matter much. A big part of this job is adapting existing programs to an individual athlete.

Still, there’s a weird tingle at the back of my neck as I continue to scan the information.

My email dings with an incoming message and I click back to my inbox. There’s a second email from my advisor, and I click on it immediately, assuming there will be more information.

Mr. Barnes,

I’m writing to give you some more details about your clinicals assignment. First, I understand that the women’s soccer team was not one of your top requests. I’m hopeful that you won’t be too disappointed by this decision, particularly in light of the information I have to share with you.