Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 121095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Me: Whoop!
My reply has no sooner landed in the chat than the middle child of the Parker clan, my brother Nate, sends some positive vibes of his own.
Nate: Parkers represent!
Me: Hell yeah!
I’m supposed to be paying close attention to the meeting, but they’re talking about some new equipment that’s expected in three days—in plenty of time before the players at camp begin wearing full pads at practices—and I can’t imagine Dad needs notes about that. Also, it’s already clear none of the heavy hitters at the conference table even remembers I’m here, so I’m positive nobody will notice that I’m no longer banging continuously on my keyboard.
Mom pipes up in the chat to send well-wishes to everyone next, all of it punctuated with a totally on-brand roller coaster emoji. Mom always says we all make her life a thrill ride, and she’s just along for the ride, so we all get her meaning—and, of course, the chat explodes with GIFs and emojis in response to Mom that occupy me for several entertaining minutes.
“Okay, sounds good,” Dad says to everyone at the table. “Moving on.”
Me: Gotta go, fam. I’m taking notes for Dad in an important meeting. Love to all. PARKERS REPRESENT TODAY!
Dad looks at his general manager at the other end of the table. “Walker? You wanted to talk about something this morning?”
Mr. Bellamy nods. “Given that this is your first NFL training camp, I thought it would be helpful if we discussed the bullet points of your planned opening remarks to the players before you head down to the practice field to greet them,” he replies smoothly. “That way, the group can provide any necessary last-minute feedback.”
How condescending! I quickly look down at my hands, since my brow feels decidedly tight and furrowed right now, and I don’t want the general manager or anyone else on the operations side of things to notice their new head coach’s daughter scowling in the corner. For fuck’s sake, this may be my father’s first NFL gig, but he’s been a top college head coach for two decades now, so he’s clearly capable of welcoming his players to training camp without being micromanaged by his boss, who’s never coached a day in his life. Is this why my father asked me to keep an eagle eye on Walker Bellamy and his key staffers—because he had a hunch his new boss would pull offensive, stupid shit like this?
“Sure thing, Walker,” my father says smoothly, with far more professionalism and calm than he’s surely feeling. When Dad called me three months ago to tell me the exciting news that he’d landed his first NFL gig, and a head coaching one at that, he confided the worst part of his dream job was probably going to be working for that man sitting across from him. “He’s a dinosaur,” Dad told me back then. “He thinks ‘real’ football can only be won with old-fashioned grit and heart, and all the modern tech and data analysis is ‘hogwash.’”
As Dad launches into an overview of his upcoming planned remarks, I survey the faces of the operations guys around the table to see if I can detect a hint of disdain for their boss’s question, but so far, all I see is a bunch of men listening attentively on both sides of the organization. Thankfully, Dad got to handpick his entire coaching staff as part of his deal, so we know all his guys are firmly Team Parker. But on the operations side—Bellamy’s domain—I’m guessing at least some of them aren’t aligned with their boss’s old-school way of thinking and quite possibly itching to bring some much-needed change to their perennial loser of an organization.
I’d love to get a read on the new owner of the team, Virginia “Ginny” Williams, but she isn’t here. I’ve only met her a few times, but each time she’s come across as whip-smart and friendly, exactly as Dad has described her to me. But then again, she hasn’t fired her nephew, Mr. Bellamy, which seems like the first thing to do when taking over a last-place team from her late husband, so who knows how “whip-smart” she truly is.
A text from my best friend, Daisy, pops onto my computer screen, drawing my attention once again. And since Dad is still going through his planned opening remarks, it’s perfect timing for me to engage with her.
Daisy: Have you met any of the players yet? I’m dying to see photos!
Me: Not yet. Training camp kicks off in a half hour, so I’m still sitting in a boring meeting. And when camp starts, I probably won’t meet all of them right away. My supposed job isn’t even a real job, remember?
Daisy: I thought you said you’re gonna be a coach?
Me: The assistant to Dad’s assistant linebacker coach, if I’m lucky. And not right away. But that’s not even a sure thing. Realistically, I don’t think I could weasel my way into getting to do that until the third and final week of training camp, if at all. Until then, I’m just going to be Dad’s shadow and girl Friday, basically.