Page 11 of The Session

“That’d be amazing. We’d miss you up here. You talk it over yet with Holly?”

“Yeah. I told her it was just a meeting. Nothing serious.”

“Well, with Stevenson, you should have it locked.”

“We’ll find out,” Mark said, checking his watch. “See ya soon.”

Frank Cox, head coach of the Florida Atlantic College football program, sat with two assistant coaches at a table across from Mark in the back classroom across the hall from the weight room, where young men the size of livestock lifted weights while listening to a Post Malone album.

Mark had used the excuse of the endowment fund to visit Florida Atlantic and Florida Atlantic as a reason to drop by the endowment. He hadn’t wanted to appear too desperate in either meeting.

Money had been tight since the ambulance service had started cutting back hours. He’d been giving his shifts to Devon, who had a wife, a kid, and another one on the way. Buying the ticket to Miami wasn’t exactly a Hail Mary prayer, but it sure would be nice to get two wins out of a trip.

Mark had caught only the first names of the assistant coaches: George and Adam. George looked to be in his late forties, while Adam appeared only a little older than Mark.

“So you know Coach Stevenson,” Cox began.

“Yes, sir. He retired near us and used to volunteer with our high school football program. I helped him run clinics,” Mark said.

“Pretty fortunate to live next to a legend like him,” Adam noted. “Five SEC championships. Quite the record.”

“He was a great mentor to me,” Cox said. “I was aboard for two of those championships. How is he doing?”

“He’s in an assisted living facility now,” Mark replied. “He’s got his good days and bad ones. Ever since Wendy died, it’s been a bit rough. His kids check in on him, so that’s good. I make sure some of the guys visit. I go watch a game with him every weekend.”

“Very nice you’re keeping him company. I got your email that you were going to be in the area. So what can we do for you?” Cox asked.

Mark had hoped Stevenson’s email would have done all the heavy lifting, but it looked like he needed to remind Cox why he was here. He was terrible at selling himself. But hey, he’d just made $10,000 for the league by asking for it. Maybe he just needed to be a little bolder.

“I’d love to see if there’s a place in your program where I might be a fit,” Mark said.

“Unfortunately, we don’t have any open positions right now. But why don’t you tell us more about your background, and we can keep you in mind for something,” Cox replied.

“Sure. I’ve been coaching at Summerville for the last two years. I’ve been helping Coach Stevenson with clinics for the past seven. I hurt my knee my senior year of high school, and he let me work with him on the sidelines,” Mark explained.

“Summerville is a high school?” Adam asked.

“Yes, sir. But we have one of the highest player-to-NFL ratios of any school its size,” Mark replied. “I also help out with summer training for special teams at the Falcons’ summer camp.”

“You should have led with that,” George noted.

“It’s just volunteer work—helping the practice teams not fall apart. Coach Stevenson got me that job,” Mark admitted.

In fact, he’d placed Mark, sight unseen, with one email, which was exactly what Mark had been hoping for here.

“How would you see yourself helping out at FAC?” Cox asked.

“I’ve got my degree in kinesiology. I like coaching, but I’m also good at improving player performance—finding optimal workouts, nutrition, that kind of thing. At Summerville, by senior year our players have, on average, eight more pounds of muscle than their cohorts at other schools.”

Stevenson had pointed that out in the email.

“That’s pretty impressive,” Cox admitted. “Bringing a college-level sports nutrition program to a high school isn’t something I see outside of some of the Texas schools.”

“With all due respect, sir, I think the program we have is better than anything in the NFL, let alone college. I worked on it with Coach Stevenson and my girlfriend. Holly’s a molecular biologist. We made a digital twin of each player and used that to plan diet. She’s got a paper coming out about it,” Mark told them.

“A paper,” Adam said.

Mark couldn’t tell if he was mocking him.