Chet

I was feeling the calmest I had since I took this job and I had just about all of it to owe to Dahlia. Being around her was like a cup of chamomile tea and a shot of whiskey all at the same time. She made me feel so relaxed and so alive. The more time I spent with her, the more I was falling for her. In the last five years, I had occupied my time with anything but women with my last several relationships going terribly.

As I stood in the box, sipping my old fashioned, I thought about what happened between Dahlia and my mother. We still hadn’t addressed her episode that morning, but I had noticed that she was going out less, taking more time to herself. I figured that would be good for her.

I gazed down at the field below. We were another full house for this Sunday game, which was great for sales. The game was well underway, and since we were almost at the end of October, the heat was barely a memory. I scanned the field for Dahlia, smiling as I caught sight of her, standing with her hands on her hips, her long hair pulled back into a ponytail, her perfect curves draped in a thick, fall blazer and cowboy boots. As she kept her stare intent on the players on the field I realized with a chuckle that she was actually watching the game. She was starting to get the hang of it.

I glanced at the scoreboard. Not good, we were losing by fifteen points at the end of the fourth quarter. I gazed down at that abysmal game for the next twenty minutes before we inevitably lost. It was the sixth game that season. If we made it to the playoffs, it would be by the skin on our nails, and even then, the Superbowl was a long shot… and yet it was being held right there, in that stadium. If the Dallas Cowboys didn’t make it to their own super bowl, my mother would never get over the embarrassment, and neither would the company. It would be my first major failure as the head of it.

This was all they could talk about at the board meeting. This time Russ sat in, being head coach, he was directly responsible for this matter, and we were joined by Dr. Ralph Little, the head of health and safety. “Look, the fact of the matter is that we are losing. We’re losing games and we’re losing money. People don’t turn on the television to watch a sure fire thing. They want a fight. Pretty soon, our own fans are not gonna be coming to these games, and what do you expect will happen to sales then?” Jerry Smith, one of the board members, and someone who had started out as my Dad’s intern twenty-five years ago said.

We both looked at Russ, who had been sitting back in his chair, twiddling his thumbs.

I almost rolled my eyes; his God complex was starting to get annoying. “Well, Russ?” I asked staring at him pointedly.

Russ shrugged. “Look, I’m not a miracle worker. If we can’t have our best players on the field, we can’t perform our best.”

Dr. Little cleared his throat. “And what are you implying.”

He shrugged, holding his hands up in defense. “I just think that we might have to loosen up on all these regulations a little.”

Dr. Little frowned, flexing his mustache. “It’s not us; it’s the NFL. You wanna break the law, go right ahead, but you won’t win any games when the entire team is facing disciplinary action.”

Russ finally sat up. “It’s not just that. It’s the little things. The petty injuries. Our players are getting benched for rolled ankles and pulled muscles.”

I knew exactly what he was getting at and wanted to keep Dahlia out of this at all costs. I glowered at him. “I’m sure that’s an exaggeration.”

Russ shrugged. “Listen, I’ve been in the business for almost twenty years. I’m telling you, it’s that new sports doctor you’ve got prancing around.”

I set my jaw.

“Now, Dr. Waters is a new hire. You can’t expect to blame systemic problems are on her.”

“My players were fine before she came along!”

Dr. Little scoffed, letting out a dry laugh. “They were not fine, and you know that. You are hanging on to them by your teeth. Now that they’re crapping out on you, you’re looking to blame the easiest target. Dr. Waters is just low hanging fruit.”

My eyes widened. I would be expected to make a decision soon to mediate. Smith just sat with his arms crossed, his brow furrowed in exasperated disgust.

“If I can’t train my players and run them in practice, they just keep getting worse and worse. When they get worse, they make mistakes. When they make mistakes, they get hurt on the field. Now, when they get hurt on the field, they get benched for the season, and then we lose games. Guys this is elementary stuff. You looking’ for someone to blame, go to the water.” With that, he slammed his hand on the table.

I cleared my throat. “Well, you both make good points. The board and I will review the injuries of the season and the current team policies and come up with a mechanism for action soon.”

But even as I said that I knew it wouldn’t be enough.

There was clearly a conflict brewing, and Dahlia was smack dab in the middle of it.