The locker room was buzzing with the usual post-practice chatter, guys slapping each other on the back and reliving plays from the day. I leaned back on one of the benches, the cool metal pressing into my skin as I watched Carson, our rookie wide receiver, mumble his limited vocabulary under his breath. "Alligator… fuck… alligator…" He'd get there, I thought with a smirk. The kid had spirit.
Suddenly, Hadassah burst through the doors with an energy that could light up the stadium. She had a grin plastered on her face and something mischievous in her eyes. Before I could even ask what she was up to, Coach Reid—“Grandpa Reid” as Hadassah had affectionately called him ever since she started tagging along to practices—came in with a handful of candy.
“Here, sweetie, try these,” he said, his voice warm as he handed her a piece of chocolate. Hadassah’s eyes sparkled as she accepted it, but Isiah, who had been watching from the sidelines, stepped forward with his hands on his hips.
“Coach, with all due respect, you gotta stop giving her candy. She’ll end up with cavities, and I’ll be the one dealing with it at 2 a.m.,” Isiah half-joked, half-pleaded. His concern was genuine, though, and I couldn’t help but chuckle.
Hadassah rolled her eyes dramatically. “Dad, it’s just one piece. Besides, I have the strongest teeth on the team,” she said, puffing out her chest like she was ready for a face-off. The room erupted into laughter.
Carson, standing by the lockers, perked up. His eyes darted between us as he tried to piece together the conversation. Finally, he opened his mouth. “Alligator… chocolate,” he said, proudly adding a new word to his limited vocabulary.
Hadassah's laugh filled the room, and she walked over to Carson, giving him a playful nudge. “Close enough, buddy.”
I couldn’t help but smile at the scene. For a moment, the weight of the season lifted. It was these moments that reminded me why I stuck around—not just for the game, but for this imperfect family that kept things real.
