Let God Be The Author: Chapter 2

Chapter 4

Bennet's POV

The smell of stinky socks, sweat and deodorant filled the whole locker room as everyone got ready to head to the showers or go home. It was one of those days where coach was in a bad mood and grilled us all with an intense training session.

Whenever someone would make an error or complain, he would make us run again and again around the whole field then force us to get back in position and do a replay. Saying everyone was cranky after a few lapse is an understatement, if coach wasn't around we would have ripped each other's heads off.

"If I only knew what happens to footballers, I would have chosen to be an architect."

Harry Stalli, my best friend and teammate moaned, limping his way to his locker.

"Are you sure about that?" I raised an eyebrow, ''Bro, you can't even plan your day, how will you be able to plan a house?"

"You just a hater."

He crowed, throwing a towel over his shoulder.

Slowly sitting on the bench and stretching out his leg, his face winced at the pain that shot through his hamstring. He definitely pulled a muscle.

"How was your date with the beautiful Nikita?"

I emphasized the lady's name, seeing his face show disgussted and irritated.

"Bad. Simply. bad. Firstly, she arrived 2 hours late and never apologized. Then she ordered literally the whole menu and all you could see was the tips of her head because she was so focused on the meal. Next thing you know, she calls the waiter again and orders another round of shrimp and wine. At this point I'm contemplating on whether I should be a gentleman and stay or grab my wallet and run."

His hands flew all over the place and his face twisted as he shared his traumatic experience.

"Just as I think matters couldn't get any worse, " He continued. "She takes one bite of her food and asked for a takeaway bag and permission to leave with the untouched wine bottle. Who does that? Where is the guilt...the shame."

I couldn't help but roar with laughter at the annoyance on his face.

"At least the conversation was flowing."

I spoke optimistically.

"What conversation?" The towel he had got thrown on the floor, "There was no conversation! She was conversing with the meal in front of her!"

Before I got the chance to add my last two cents and continue to press his buttons, coach entered the room with a board and a stern, angry look.

"Sit. Down. Now." He ordered a player who was heading for the showers.

Everyone moved like baby chicks and huddled around him like a mother hen. Tension and fear filled the once relaxed and calm room.

"What nonsense was that on the field."

Lasers came out of his furious eyes as he addressed the team.

"I said WHAT NONSENSE WAS THAT ON THE FIELD."

He yelled and threw the board on the floor out of anger. Everyone flinched at this action but quickly went back to their normal stance.

"Who taught you how to play football because it definitely wasn't me." His veins popped out as he yelled, "You looked like a bunch of losers. Im sure my 6 month pregnant wife can play better football than you."

His faced was painted in red and you could see smoke coming out of his ears. He was fuming.

"Im not gonna beg you be here so if you want to leave, the door will gladly open itself for you."