Gemotions

The locker room air was thick with the smell of sweat and liniment. I sat on the bench, my hands clasped together, my knuckles white. Coach Rodriguez’s booming laughter from the other room felt like a discordant note in the growing silence.

I'd worked so hard, harder than anyone. Every morning, before school, I was on the field. Every evening, after practice, I practiced some more. But lately, I hadn't been playing as well. The pressure had really gotten to me.

He finally came in. The smile was gone, replaced by a professional mask. My jaw clenched as he began to speak.