Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 97882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
“You’ll be okay, kid,” Coach tried to assure me once the trainers helped me to my feet, and he carefully squeezed my good shoulder before giving the trainers a knowing nod.
My entire future flashed before my eyes as JB and the rest of the crew silently led me off the field, Julep quietly rounding out the back of the group.
Julep
You could have heard a pin drop in the hospital room where all the NBU coaching and training staff were, but all I heard was the distinct sound of a dream dying.
I silently took notes as JB and the rest of the trainers discussed Holden’s diagnosis after X-rays and an MRI. Holden sat on the exam table, eyes unfocused. Even though we were all discussing quietly, I knew he could hear us.
The good news was that nothing was broken.
The bad news was that he had torn his rotator cuff again.
Fortunately, it was just a partial tear — tiny, really, and far milder than the one he’d suffered as a freshman. That one had been enough to warrant surgery, whereas this was something we could handle without it. He was lucky it had been in a different part of his muscle, too, because if he had torn it in the same place he’d had surgery, we’d be having a different discussion right now.
JB was already walking us through the rehab plan, discussing best practices with the staff and my father listening in and interjecting his own thoughts. Of course, his first question was when we thought Holden would play again.
And I knew by watching his bouncing knee that that would be Holden’s first question, too.
It wasn’t an easy one to answer. He had pretty good movement, and already the pain had subsided. But we all knew it would resurface, especially at night, and that if he got out on the field and tried to launch a ball through the air, he’d do even more damage.
He had a road of rehab ahead of him, but we were all optimistic he’d play again.
And though I didn’t say it, I hoped it would be this season.
My gaze kept slipping over to Holden as the staff discussed his future. He somehow kept his shoulders back and his chin raised, even with his arm in a sling, even as the devastation of what had happened danced in his eyes. It was like he still felt that weight of being captain, of being a leader, of knowing the team would be looking to him as their cue on how to react to this news.
I wondered if he was already making a plan, already thinking of who would take his place, how he could help that teammate transition, how he could somehow still be a part of the win.
He’d left me alone the past couple of weeks, his sole focus on the team. And it was in that time of him not being an annoying fly buzzing around my face that I felt my perception of him change, even if just marginally.
I saw what the team had told me about him — his severity, his patience, his complete and total concentration on every play. He wasn’t just tuned in when he was leading the offense down the field, either. He was a part of every defensive play, too — talking to players in-between whistles to make sure they had their heads on straight, huddling with my father or the other offensive players with an iPad between them, even bringing players water to make sure they were staying hydrated.
It was then that I realized I’d seen the rare version of him first: relaxed, flirty, almost a bit… goofy, even.
When the season started, I saw the real him.
And now, watching the muscles of his jaw pop beneath the skin as he awaited his sentencing, I wondered what version of him this news would bring.
“Julep,” JB said, snapping my eyes to him. “You’ve been the one closest to his rehab lately. What’s your recommendation?”
I sipped a bit of oxygen before holding my head high and answering, “I think we need to start from the beginning. Maximal protection. He needs to be in that sling and limit movement as much as possible. We can introduce isometric strengthening and range of motion to start, with tissue work and cold compression, obviously. Maybe some electric stimulation,” I added, thinking. “He’s already on his NSAIDs, but we’ll need a steroid injection. And hopefully, we can move into moderate protection within two weeks, and get him back on the field by October.”
Dad lifted his brows. “You really think he could be back that quickly?”
“With how minor the tear is, how strong those muscles he’s already developed around his rotator cuff are, and how familiar he already is with this type of rehab?” I nodded. “Absolutely.”
JB smiled, sharing an appreciative glance with me before he chimed in. “That is the exact logic behind my thoughts, although I wouldn’t be surprised if we need until November.”