angry breathing only a few feet behind me. “I didn’t do anything wrong, you know.” He growls out his words, revealing his frustration at our situation.” I’m not your father.”
I whip around to face him, still walking backward. “No. But you’re a reminder, and that’s bad enough.”
TAKE V
WEDDING BELLS
“IN A SEA OF PEOPLE, MY EYES WILL ALWAYS SEARCH FOR YOU." — unknown
25
Heavy Weights
Desmond
If I’m thrown off my routine or unable to check a box, irritation sneaks in like a crippling anxiety. Suddenly, it’s like I’m struggling for whatever control I can maintain while slipping outside myself. My anger spikes. My mood shifts. And anyone around me becomes a target on my warpath.
Before I met Coach Reynolds, my life was void of the routine that keeps me sane now. Grappling was my normal, and every day felt like a fight just to move through it. The only way I ever felt like I was in control of my own feelings was when I was unleashing my darkest demons, giving into the anger, the insecurities, and the utter disappointment I had for myself and my life.
It didn’t help that my father was a raging alcoholic. At the time, he hadn’t yet been diagnosed with autism spectrum disorder, not that I would have known what to do with that information when I was a young teen.
When I was a kid, dealing with my father each day was like playing Russian roulette. I would wake up, spin the cylinder, and take my chances. I didn’t know what type of mood he would be in or what would set him off to become the version of himself that sent me running. I refused to let my peers get too close to me because I was too embarrassed for anyone to know what was really going on at home.
Things seemed to only get worse the older I got. Instead of running away from the angry drunk my father would become, I was picking him up from bars, tucking him into bed at odd hours of the day, and thanking the Lord he was too messed up to take a swing at me. Not that he would have made contact anymore. I was bigger at sixteen than most of the boys my age. And I’d learned how to fight since it was the only thing keeping the fear in my peers’ eyes. That fear I’d instilled in them was the only thing that protected me from hurting more than I already was inside.
“No excuses.” That was what Coach would always shout at me the moment I tried to blame one of my teammates for my volatile behavior. “You’ve got anger inside you, son? Good. So do we all. Use it on the field, but we’re not your enemies.” He would say those words just inches from my face. “Look around you, Blake.” He would point to a row of downturned heads on the benches in front of their lockers. “These men are your brothers. And this right here”—he used his arms to wave around the entire locker room—“we’re family. We protect each other however we need to. If that means taking a beating in order for Zach to have time to release that ball, then take the damn beating. Because if he gets sacked, that’s on you. Be there, Desmond. No excuses.”
Lord knew Zach had taken plenty of beatings from me prior to us joining that team. So of course, my answer was simple. “Yes, sir.” I would say those words without fail every single time. And every single time, I meant it, until the reminders were no longer necessary.
In a way, football taught me how the world worked. It taught me right and wrong, forgiveness and how to trust. It taught me how to protect myself without resorting to violent retaliation. But above all, it taught me what a true family bond was like. And Coach Reynolds was the glue.
How he could have ever been something less to his own family is beyond me. I can’t picture it and don’t want to. Until Maggie Stevens entered my life, I didn’t have to. Sure, I know what Zach and Monica went through to be together, but that’s none of my business. With Maggie, I can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt for her situation.
My workout on Saturday morning is my first opportunity all week to relieve some of the building tension. Maggie hasn’t spoken to me at all since that night at the concert. She’s shown