Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 162138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 811(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 811(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
I’m such a hypocrite. My father was a very jealous man, and I’d constantly tell my mother that it was a toxic trait. Now, look at me. I jog over to the group, taking the clipboard with me. There’s no way I’ll memorize any of this in the minute we have left. They’re all still stretching when I reach them.
“Before we start,” I say loudly. I’ve gotten used to being loud here. “My name is Coach Delilah; you can call me that or Lyla or Dee. I don’t mind,” I start.
“You can call me whatever you want,” the Barlow kid says.
“Shut up. You may want to hear this,” I snap and go back to what I was saying. “I go fast. If you’re good enough, you’ll catch on quick. If you’re not good enough, this will be good for your endurance and you’ll get there. If you don’t want to work to get there, you can get the fuck off the pitch and go home, because I won’t waste my time on you.”
Some of them inhale sharply. Some of their eyes widen. Barlow, the little shit, nods with a smile. He’s really not that young, now that I’m seeing him up close. I know he’s not my age, since he’d have nothing to gain from being here, but he can’t be too far off.
“Another thing, no goofing off,” I say. “If you want to gossip, you can do it on your break or when we’re done.”
I nod my head sideways for them to follow me to the first drill I have set up. The field is pretty much an obstacle course. They’ve done all of these drills a million times by now, but here, they’ll do them and I’ll time them. I’ve never trained them, but I know they’re regulars here, and timing them is the only way we’ll know whether or not they’re getting better.
“This is your starting point.” I point at the little yellow cones I have set up. “We’re breaking it down and going one by one. When we’re done, we’ll go straight through. When that’s done, we go to the net.”
“Ladder drills,” I announce and look at the first person in line. “Natalie, you’re up.”
I set my timer. When she’s done, I look at the next one.
“Priya, you’re up.”
I set my timer. When she’s done, I look at the next one.
I keep going like this until I reach Barlow, who’s last in line. When it’s his turn, I expect him to be joking around, but he’s all business. Huh. He’s one of those. The only other person I know who can do that, turn it on and off, is Lachlan. I’ve never been able to. When the ball is at my feet or I’m focused on a drill, I barely hear anything, that’s how locked in I am. I set my timer and tell him to go. When he’s done, I record his time and we move on to the next one.
“Single leg weave,” I announce, nodding at the first one. “Go.”
I time her.
This goes on until they’re finished. Technically, we could stay working with these cones the majority of the time, but I set it up separately to make it a little different. We move to the orange cones. I catch Barlow talking and laughing with the guy next to him. The guy sees me looking and immediately stops and looks forward with a straight face. Barlow also stops and looks forward, but he’s smirking. I’m not gonna lie, if he was in my college while I was playing, I’d probably like the cocky little shit.
“Switch the line. The last person goes first, and the first person goes last.”
I wait for them to switch. Barlow is focused on the cones with a serious expression on his face. I decide if his time is good enough, I’ll let his talking slide. If not, he’ll have to do frog jumps while everyone else finishes the drill.
“Outside foot. Start with your right,” I say, and set the timer when he starts.
His time is great. They all do it before we switch feet and they do it again. We move on.
“Inside inside,” I say and time them.
“Croqueta,” I say on the next one. After this one, they’re panting and sweating. “Take a three-minute break.”
I set my timer to three minutes and they run off. I hear Lachlan running up behind me. I swear. . .
“I like the little speech you gave in the beginning,” he says, his voice low and husky. I bite my lip to not react.
“Yeah? You still get off on bitchy attitudes?” I keep my eyes on the group.
He lets out a surprised laugh. “No comment.”
No comment. Asshole. I look up at him. It’s so sunny that I have to bring the clipboard up to shield my face. “Did you come out here to tell me you’re leaving?”