Page 45 of Yesterday I Cared
“Coach Bryce told me not to change?” She gnaws on her lip in uncertainty. “I’m sorry I waslate—”
“Again,” I add. “You were late again. I told you there would be consequences if you weren’t taking this seriously.”
Panic washes over her. “Are you kicking me off the team?”
“No.” I frown, a little surprised that’s the conclusion she jumped to. “But you will not be participating in tonight’s practice. Instead, you’ll sit on the bleachers and clean the kickboards Coach Abrams used. They’re used for the ten and under team, and then during open swim. They need to be disinfected thoroughly.”
“But, Coach—”
I cut her protests off with a raised hand. “You will also pay attention to your teammates while they’re practicing. Since we’re still working on your form and technique, I want you to spot a minimum of ten things that need to be improved.”
As I hand her a spare sheet of paper and pen from my clipboard, she opens her mouth to protest again, but shuts it when my brow arches. “Yes, Coach.”
Throughout the rest of practice, I look over to check in on Emmie. I don’t like punishing swimmers, but I know the value of committed teammates and how those teammates who aren’t can drag a team down. Every single kid on this team has their own goals, whether to continue in this sport professionally or to use it as an avenue to other paths, and it would make me a bad coach if I prioritized one swimmer over the rest. Especially when that swimmer isn’t showing up.
To my relief, every time I look at her, she’s doing what I asked. She diligently cleans the kickboards, making sure to go over them at least twice before placing them in the clean bin. Her attention is still completely on her teammates, though, eyes tracking their movements the same way mine do. When she finishes the kickboards, she moves off the bleacher and comes to sit at the edge of the pool. She stays there until I blow the whistle, dismiss practice, and all herteammates head toward the locker room. She only offers small waves as they pass her.
“We need to talk, Emmie,” I tell her once the rest of the kids are out of earshot. I move to sit on the bleacher she’d vacated, and she turns to face me. If my leg wasn’t killing me, I’d consider getting down to her level, but the likelihood of me getting up is too slim. “And I need real answers this time.”
“I don’t mean to be late, Coach,” she begins, without any prompting. “Things have been a little…hectic at home.”
I notice her hesitation. “Hectic how?”
“I’m a little overwhelmed.” She frowns, taking a moment to think through what she’s going to say. “My mom has been working crazy hours, and I’m trying to keep things organized at home, but things are slipping through.”
“If you’re too overwhelmed, you can take a step—”
“No!” She looks at me with wide, pleading eyes. “Swimming is the best thing I have going right now. It’smyonly thing. Everything else is for my family, and I don’t mind that, but I can’t lose the one thing I love.”
I see a lot of my younger self in her. I clung to swimming for a long time. It was the only lifeline I had to a life that was mine and not the life my parents wanted me to have. It wasn’t until they started noticing just how good I was at the sport that things started to shift. Slowly, it changed from the thing I loved more than anything to the thing that let me feel like myself while not being mine. I got lost in the expectations of my parents within the sport.
Emmie’s family isn’t using her talent for their own gain, but they are keeping her from her passions by having her pick up their slack. It’s not the first time I’ve seen this, and it’s not the first time I’ve worked around it. I’m happy to do it again, but I need to know she still wants it.
“I understand where you’re coming from, but you also have to consider your team and the promises you made them,” I remind her. I won’t hold the scholarship over her head, never wanting to be that coach who puts a monetary value on a kid’s place on their team. I’ve met too many of those, too. “Clearly, if you want to continue on this team, we need to figure out how to help you balance your responsibilities. Tell me what I can do.”
There’s a flash ofsomethingin her eyes, but it’s gone before I can even begin to decipher it. “There’s nothing to do,” she tells me. “My mother’s schedule is going to go back to normal by next practice; I’ll be able to get to practice on time like I’ve been doing. I promise, this won’t happen again.”
“That’s not a promise a fifteen-year-old can make, Emmie.” Real life will always come before swimming, no matter how much the kids might wish it otherwise. “Being late to practice every once in a while is going to happen, Emmie. I need you to communicate with me—call the front desk, send me an email, text me. Just let me know you’ll be late, and we can work around it. If I wanted to do relay drills with you tonight, I could restructure the order of practice, but I can’t do that if I don’t know you’ll be late.”
She nods with a chastised look. “I didn’t mean to let you or the team down, Coach.”
“It’s okay.” The last thing I want is for her to beat herself up over this. “Commitment can look different from what you initially expect. Learning to adjust when things don’t go according to plan is part of what I’m hoping to teach you guys.”
“You can plan and practice all you want,” she parrots, making me smile, “but you never know how a race will go until you swim it.”
I grin back at her. “Glad to know someone is paying attention.” She laughs. “Get out of here. I don’t want to keep you too late.”
She’s still laughing as she stands, but then it fades, and she smiles shyly. “Thanks, Coach.”
My brow arches. “For?”
“Believing in me?” she replies with a shy shrug. “Not giving up on me? Maybe both? I don’t know. I’m not used to either one.”
“First of all, you’re worth believing in and I don’t give up on anyone. You’re here because you’re talented, and there are a lot of people backing you up.”
Cheeks flushed, she nods, and ducks her head, heading toward the locker room. I can’t ignore the gnawing feeling in my gut that something else is going on, that there’ssomethingshe’s not sharing.
“Emmie!” She turns to face me. “If you ever need help, no matter what it is, we’re all here for you. Do you understand?”
