"Two meetings and I didn't really miss them. I rescheduled and you agreed, so again, chill."
"Be there at four or I'm dropping you as a client."
I laughed. "You're not going to drop me. I pay you too much and I'm your favorite client."
"I have three people on my waitlist right now who collectively will cover what you're paying me."
"Three, Van?"
"You're one person but stress me like you're three people, so even exchange. Four, don't be late."
She hung up on me and I grinned, powered my phone off, unzipped my bag, and dropped it inside. I wouldn't need that for the next couple hours. When I made it into the training facility, the weight room was already thick, which was surprising for six a.m. The rookies had their schedule but they typically didn't abide by them. It would take some time for Coach to break them of their egos and entitlement.
I was still early enough to get my workout in before the chaos of shit talking began. I preferred to move through my rotations in silence with my earbuds in so I could focus. I dropped my bag on the bench in front of my locker and dug my tablet out.
The only access I had on here was to workouts from my trainer, meal plans from the dietitian I used during the season, and playbooks that Coach sent over. I kept the access limited so I could focus when required.
This space had become my sanctuary. If nothing else in my life made sense, being here did, at least that was the case when I could block out the politics, expectations, and bullshit attached to the amount of money they paid me to be the face of this franchise.
I pulled up the plan my trainer sent over for the day. I had upper body, lower body, then movement and mobility. I worked through my rotations, blasting my playlist to keep my mind clear of anything other than my form. By the time I was finished, my body was feeling the ache in my muscles, proving I had a lot of work to do.
Once done with conditioning, I made my way to the throwing machine to work on my release point consistency and spiral rotation, doing a round of footwork before I had to meet up with Coach. I grabbed a few bottles of water and left the weight room, running into Ryland in the hallway.
"You're early as hell."
I looked him over, noticing the sluggishness all over his face and posture. His eyes were red and he was dragging. "If you would have been more responsible last night, your ass would have been here early too."
He smirked and brushed a hand over his head. "How the hell you know whether or not I was responsible last night?"
"You look like shit, that's how I know."
He nodded, grinning wider. "Coach has new formations. He send them to you?"
Ryland dug his phone out of his pocket and swiped through some notifications on his screen.
"Yeah, I got them."
"You checked them out yet?"
"Looked at them last night. More RPO variations and empty backfield shit that we won't use."
"Coach be pulling shit out his ass at the start of the season just to go back to what we always do."
I chuckled. "I'm good with whatever as long as we get another ring."
"Shit, that's the problem. These rookies are going to have to step up. You worked with McClain yet?"
I grunted at that and he arched his brow. "You not fucking with him?"
I'm gonna fuck with him alright. My damn fist in his face if he doesn't fall the hell back when it comes to Kari…
"He's straight. Needs to read the field better and work on his routes."
Ryland nodded. "With Kirk out, he's going to have to have his head in the game."
Mason Kirk was our wide receiver who tore a rotator cuff at the end of the game last season. He was the last seasoned receiver we had and now we were working with three rookies. Unfortunately, McClain was the best of the three.
"As long as their hands are up, I'll get the ball to them. I just need them to catch that shit. Make sure you're blocking. Your ass is getting slow in your old age."
