"Damn son," John said to Dave as they got their massages. "I'm sore as shit."
Dave chuckled at him, "Serves you right. Why the hell do you keep goading her? It's become very apparent that she's not 'bluffing'." He put the word in rabbit ears, a classic Joey Rodriguez trade mark.
"I know, but damn." He said. "Even you Mr. Politically Correct have got to be feeling some kind of way about following some bitch on the football field that isn't a cheerleader or an interviewer."
Dave thought about it, in the grand scheme of things he would be the first to admit that it was a little bit disconcerting but he also had to admit that in the same scheme of things, she held his future in her petite hands. "You got to give her credit where it's due. She knows her shit."
John sighed hard, he couldn't dispute that. As she came in with her hard-ass, I-don't-take-no-shit attitude, he could see a vast improvement in the way the team played. He himself found himself looking down the field in a way he hadn't in the past and his blockers were definitely opening up holes making him look better.
"I know, but she's a woman." Dispute the facts or no, he couldn't get over the fact that his new coach had a vagina.
"A fact we are going to have to all get used to." Dave shrugged. He looked at John like a younger brother and felt he had to hip him to certain aspects of the league. "I mean, you are going to find yourself fucking up an opportunity that most men would give their left nut for. Why, because you feel your coach doesn't have any?"
"Just the opposite," John smirked. "She's got bigger balls than most of us. That shit doesn't bother you at all?"
Dave shrugged again, "I guess if she were incompetent at what she did I would have an issue but all jokes aside I see why McMahon hired her, the woman is fucking genius. I mean would I like that genius to be in a man and not a woman, hell yeah. Despite what you may think, when it comes to football I am a traditionalist, but I can also see we are six weeks into training camp and we are looking like we may win more than four games this season. The woman is making history. Don't you want to be a part of that?"
To be honest, he just wanted to be a part of a winning organization for once but he didn't think that it meant a woman had to lead them. They finished their massages in silence only broken by the ringing of both their blackberry cell phones. It was film time.
Joey had watched their film for what had to have been the twentieth time, wondering how and why certain blocks had been missed, assignments completely blown and all without punishment. She would surely be addressing this particular game today.
She heard the team filing in behind her. She rewound the clip again and pushed play, showing how the opposing quarterback had about seven seconds of undisturbed pocket to work with, completely carving up her secondary; this was un-a-fucking-ceptable.
"Good afternoon gentlemen," she said quietly. "I'm just reviewing one of the games from last season and I got to say, I'm impressed." She turned around to face them. "I'm impressed that with the level of incompetence I'm looking at, that most of you still have jobs." She turned around to rewind the tape. "I want to first acknowledge the front seven, guys, what the hell. You have on average fifty pounds on this particular o-line and you can't penetrate their backfield?" she was almost outraged though her voice remained quiet and evenly toned. "Strong safety my ass," she said watching as the ball sailed through the air damn near grazing the scalp of one of her cornerbacks, "easy interception." She looked at the side where her defensive players sat, "Someone want to be the one to explain to me why it didn't take place? Why someone didn't at least put their damned hands up to block the pass. This reception couldn't have possibly taken place if this defense was competent." Bobby Lashley put his hand up, "Lashley." She acknowledged him.
"This spiral was pretty tight,"
"Save it," she slowed the tape down showing where the ball had narrowly missed Chris Master's helmet. "Jump ball saves the reception," she stated. "So, tell me again." The room was silent. "As I said team, we have a lot of work to do, I'm not against cutting players nor am I against benching a player. If I were to ever seem some off brand shit like this on this team while I'm coach please understand that I will have your ass riding the pines for the rest of the damned season only to send your ass home with a pink slip. Now let's get busy." She started to play the tape again then paused, "and do yourselves a favor. Take notes."
The rest of the film session went like that, Joey stopping the tape, explaining things that they missed or didn't care enough to see. She was determined that the team she had grown up loving as a child would get their acts together so help her she'd fire the whole lot of them. Finally she looked at her watch, she had enough and there were still at least 15 more tapes like this to endure, "Dismissed. I'll see you on the field at 8 am sharp."
She looked down at her notes as they walked out of the room; they had a long way to go.
Joey was frustrated. This team was just lazy and she felt that most of them were still playing with her in a juvenile attempt to make her quit. She would have none of this madness. She was not quitting her dream job for a bunch of damned toddlers.
"Can any of you read?" she asked after she'd blown the whistle bringing the practice to a halt. She looked to her offensive coordinator, Shawn Michaels and her defensive coordinator Kevin Nash, both men old enough to be her father or even her grandfather. "Gentlemen," she address both coordinators, "I would like you to start implementing the fines for penalties. False starts and off sides penalties are for college players. You are professionals." She smiled, "Monies collected for fines will be used for the team of course." She blew her whistle, "Let's get busy."
She watched her team continued to play aggressively. She watched as many of her defensive players engaging with their head up. What in hell?
"Mr. Nash," she blew her whistle. She knew that he wasn't exactly thrilled at the fact that she'd made head coach but tough. "What the hell are your players doing?"
"Joey," he said between strained teeth.
"Save it," she came down off her platform she used to be able to view the team as a whole. She stood in front of one of her biggest defensive players, "Batista, engage me. On my whistle," The whole team stopped cold and watched her, David had yet to move. She walked up to him, his bulky frame, she couldn't possibly meet his eye but she made damn sure to make sure he knew she wasn't playing, "I said, engage me." She blew her whistle, "Let's go."
She got down in position to engage him and just like she suspected he was going into it with his head up. Like her father had always told her, the eyes are deceitful, the body never lies. The waist is the center of gravity and you destroy that and the man will crumble. After she tackled David she looked up, to Kevin pulling her up. She was out of breath, by no means was it an easy feat, the man had 200 pounds on her but she made him exert his strength and energy to do what it was she wanted him to do.
"Now, you never engage an opponent with your heads up, you should know that. You are going to mess around and they are going to carry you off my field on a damned stretcher with your necks broken. Give me a break," she looked at Kevin, "and you were letting it go on. Ridiculous." She blew her whistle, "Continue."
David watched her, they underestimated her. While he would never admit it to his team, he had not gone easy on her by any means, if she wanted to be one of the boys, he was going to show her what that was like. But, one thing he hadn't betted on was she knew how to make the body do what she wanted it to do. The ultimate manipulator, she was a bad bitch and they needed to all recognize it.
Kevin glared at her but he also did what she asked, making sure the boys engaged with their heads down. She shook her head, she wanted to go upstairs and shake Mr. McMahon. How could he let this kind of shit go on and be shocked when they go 4 and 12? She shook her head.
It's crunch time.