The Coach - Part One

*** Four: Slow Decline.

I tried to focus and I tried to improve but it was no use. Over the next three weeks, I seemed to get worse and worse. Liam was angry, worried, confused and frustrated all at the same time. He couldn’t understand why I was on a slow but constant decline. The nationals were looming and as a desperate attempt to save the team, Liam replaced my individual events with Simon’s, only entering me in two team events. I had got to the point where I just didn’t care anymore. My love for Liam was consuming me and I knew that I couldn’t go on like that much longer.

After a morning of untidy routines, botched landings and clumsy vaults, I was exhausted and almost in tears. I hurried out of the gym and went straight to my room and collapsed on the bed. The tears started to flow down my face as I lay there trying to get a grip on my emotions. The door flew open and Simon bustled in.
“I missed you at lunch Kev, what’s up?” He said as he plopped on the bed next to me. “God, that man is really pushing us and I don’t . . . !” Then he took in my tear stained face and stopped short.
“Oh shit, Kev,” he said, “what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I managed to whisper.
“Nothing, my ass,” he said, “You’re crying for God’s sake, something must be wrong.”

I kept silent.
“It’s because he’s replaced you, isn’t it?” He said softly. “With me.”
I shook my head.
“No, it’s not that,” I said, “You are better than me anyway.”
“Crap, and you know it,” he said, “I’ll never be as good as you.”
“Simon, I don’t care about being replaced,” I said adamantly.
“Okay. Then it’s because of him, right?,” he said.
“Yeah,” I nodded.
“I don’t blame you, he has been riding you pretty hard lately,” he said.
“I don’t care about that either,” I said.
“But you just said it was because of . . . !” He stopped and stared at me, the light suddenly coming on in his mind. “Oh no . . . ! Oh shit Kev, please don’t tell me you’re crazy about him.”

I nodded.
”Seven years now,” I mumbled.
“Seven . . . !” He said aghast. “Oh Jesus!”

We sat in silence for a while as he digested this. Then I told him what had happened between Liam and I all those years ago.
“What are you going to do?” He asked when I had finished.
“God, I don’t know,” I replied. “Maybe I should just transfer out of here. I know I can’t do this much longer.”
“Yeah, you’re a mess,” he observed.
“Thanks!”
“You’re welcome,” he said with a small grin.
“At least my academic major isn’t suffering,” I said with a small smile.
“Yeah,” he said, “Simply because he ain’t in the same frigging room as you.”

We discussed various options, some of them bizarre but all of them useless. There seemed to be no solution apart from transferring to another college. I decided that that was my only course of action so I went to the office and put in a request for a transfer. I left the space labeled ‘Preferred College” empty. I really didn’t care where I went as long as I got out of Middleton.

The nationals came and went and we didn’t do as badly as I’d supposed we might. I did fairly well in the two events that I had been entered for, but I didn’t excel as I usually did. Liam was fairly happy with how the team did, but I could tell that he was a little disappointed that we hadn’t done as well as we should have. I could also tell that he was deeply disappointed with me and it hurt; it hurt terribly.
A week before the holidays, my transfer application did the rounds. Each of my lecturers and of course, my coach had to sign it before it was processed. I waited with baited breath for Liam’s reaction.