When my sister called on Good Friday to ask if I could take my nephew to field hockey practice I never thought that she would actually be doing me a favor.
“They’re practicing on a holiday?”
“There’s a tournament next month and the coach is a bit...” She searched for the right word.
“What?”
“Let’s just say he’s very serious about the game. Actually, controlling and pompous are probably better descriptions. Just ignore him.”
My nephew is quite possibly the best 12-year-old on the planet and since my relationship status is now single and motherhood may escape me, helping out was a no-brainer.
But my brain became a jumbled mess when I saw his coach and I knew that he was not someone one could ignore. I watched as he led the boys through their training. He spoke quietly, but with authority. According to my nephew, he was only 23, but he commanded respect. And how my sister managed not to mention that he was gorgeous was a mystery.
He glanced up at me once during the practice as if to make it known that nothing got past him. If there was someone new in his midst, he would notice. And when he came over to introduce himself afterward, I could only assume that his self-assured manner was what made my sister label him as pompous, but was probably better described as swagger.
"Do you like the game?" A smile crossed his face that I hadn't seen when he was with the boys. My response should have been so simple and yet, the only thing that came to mind was that I could imagine playing all sorts of games with him.
"I do," I finally managed.
"Then I'll see you again," he said as if he knew me better than I knew myself.
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