Page 6 of Tangled with the Tight End

“Let’s not jinx it,” I say with a smile.

Candace smiles. “Never. Well, I’ll see you on game day, Declan.”

“See you then, Candace. Hopefully, with our first win under our belts.”

We wrap up the mini-interview and I head to the massage table for my post-practice therapy. This isn’t a massage with candles and mood music. My therapist, a five-foot four-inch ball of aggression, is named Dixie. Don’t let the cute name fool you.

“Are you trying to drill your way through to China?” I say on a moan that borders on an animalistic howl.

“Just trying to get your muscles tender, Declan. That’s why they pay me the big bucks,” she laughs. It’s the laugh of a pint-sized sadist with supernatural strength.

Her elbow digs into my lower back. “You should be used to this by now,” Dixie says. “I didn’t know Tennessee boys were so soft under all that muscle.”

“I’m all heart, Dixie.”

“Don’t listen to his lines,” my teammate, Linc, says from the table across the room. “He’d charm the dentures out of an old woman’s mouth.”

“Why on earth would I want to do that?” I ask Linc.

“I’m just sayin’. Women of all ages drop at the sight of you. Why? I’ll never quite understand the allure.”

“You’re not into the tall, dark, handsome thing?” I tease.

“I’m more into the small, blonde and sassy thing.”

I smile. Linc has three loves: the game, his mom and his wife.

“Speaking of your type,” I say. “I have to blow off dinner tonight. Can we take a rain check?”

“Got a hot date?” Linc teases.

“I’m taking my brother and his friends out to eat in Waterford.”

“Okay, big spender. I see how it is.” Linc chuckles.

“I don’t get enough time with him. And he brought everyone to practice, so I thought I’d make time for them.”

“They all want time with the tight end,” Linc says.

Maybe he’s right. I’d like to think they want time with me, not just the Thunder tight end.

It was interesting. Winona’s words return to me. She’s not a fan.

“Aaaagh,” I moan as Dixie hits a sore spot in my middle back.

“Just doing my job,” Dixie says. “You’ll thank me tomorrow.”

“I’ll thank you the day after tomorrow.”

“Epsom bath tonight and you can thank me sooner, big guy.”

“Okay. Deal.”

Dixie finishes torturing me and I head to a cold plunge. It’s a routine I swear by. I’m not superstitious, but I know what works to keep me agile and less prone to injury.

The energy in the locker room is high. We’re ready to get this season underway. Spending time coaching kids is always rewarding and sentimental. Something about it seems to bring back memories of our own childhoods when we threw the ball around with friends or in Pop Warner games.

I shower and dress in street clothes, grab a protein shake and sit with the offensive coach for a quick rundown of what he saw during practice.