Cards (and how we play them) - Hartbig

Chapter 5

"You all look like a bunch of stumbling buffoons out there!"

Hannah winces as Mamrie wraps her wrist, ignoring Coach’s red face and bulging eyes, instead opting to watch the darkening purple spots around her wrist. 

"Sorry sweets." Mamrie mumbles the slightest to her, finishing her wrap and tightening it once before moving on to wrap John Doberman’s ankle. 

"Front line, where the hell are you? And it’s like the receivers are just playing tag down-field! And Hart, where the hell are you?" Hannah’s eyes shoot up, taking in the full experience of the middle-aged man’s angered expression. "You haven’t completed a pass since the beginning of the fourth quarter! You’re killing us out there!" Complete silence is met with his outburst, the final word echoing throughout the locker room. Hannah holds his gaze, determined to not back down, to not look away; determined to show no weakness. Something in her gaze hits the Coach, his demeanor softening, his puffed-out chest deflating. 

Taking off his worn baseball cap and rubbing a hand over his face and through his hair before replacing the cap, Coach Marks takes a moment to take in the ragged expressions of his players. Of his kids. A quiet man who’s lead a simple life, fulfilling his dream of settling down in his hometown and coaching at his alma mater, Brayden Marks has dedicated his entire life to this team. He has spent the last 15 years trying to win their school a championship.

And he is tired. He thought about giving up, until this team came to him. This specific group of kids, there was something about them. When you put them all together, it was like magic. Watching them play reminded him of why he loved the sport so much. And because he had so much faith in them, his disappointment was coming out in full force. But it was only because he wanted them to win so bad. Not just for himself, but for them. For these kids, for their friends, for the school. For the town.

But even that wasn’t worth discarding his integrity. 

"Look, guys, I just….this life, it’s short. And you have so much of it ahead of you, so many incredible days to look forward to that you aren’t even aware of yet. And maybe someday, maybe even in the next 5 years, you won’t remember the players on the team, or the scores of the game. But you will remember how it felt. How this feels, to be so incredibly a part of something, to know that you can run full sprint and know each and every person in this room will be full speed behind you. That is a feeling that you won’t get too often after this time. I know it’s only the first game, but this game will determine how the rest of the season goes; how the playoffs will go, if they even happen." He takes a deep breath, watching on bated breath as new life begins to color each players face.

"Now. One in?"

"All in." Hannah states with finality, standing with meaning and meeting Coach Marks gaze. He nods at her with pride, the rest of the team standing not moments later and chanting "All in!" in unison, following the team of coaches back out onto the field to begin the second half. 

Hannah watches them go, a sense of pride and obligation swelling in her chest. She can do this. She can help these guys. She has to help these guys. She has to push all of the shit filling her brain to the back of her brain and focus on the next 30 minutes. 

"Well if that wasn’t the cheesiest Friday Night Lights moment I’ve ever heard, then I don’t know what is.” Tyler states off-handly over Mamrie’s shoulder as the check’s the quarterback’s bandage once more.

"Alright Harto, you ready for this? Those guys are gunning for ya."

"Not really helping Mames." Hannah replies, standing and adjusting the pads underneath her jersey. She looks back up to find Mamrie watching her with a careful, concerned eye. "What?"