THE WEEK AFTER THE embarrassing AFC Richmond loss against Crystal Palace was back to normal. No more press conferences, just regular busy work and coffee runs at work. Lily and Jess continued their mission to make me fun. Jess burnt at least two meals when she attempted to cook up dinner. James complained about his job that he actually loved. I absorbed Trent's critiques on my writing as if they were my only lifeline.

However, one particular day that week his critiques were extra brutal. Usually, I understood all his criticism. He also tended to add in a compliment ever now and again. If he added these because he actually liked my work or just so I didn't cry myself to sleep, I wasn't sure. I appreciated them, though they were usually one word like "Good" or sometimes the phrase  "Interesting point." 

This day, though, it seemed every online he had some problem with. Like my word choice could've been improved upon, or that my take on Manchester City's defense was too boring to be even remotely interesting. At one point, Trent actually wrote out "Sabrina, I am falling asleep. Please get to an actually interesting analysis."

As I read over his comments, I felt a feeling of shame swirl inside me. If my story was truly as poorly written as Trent claimed, I had just embarrassed myself in front of one of the best sports journalists in the country. A small part of my mind, deep inside the dark part that still held all the arrogance I acquired from being considered 'gifted' my whole life whispered that my story was perfect. The criticism was wrong and unwelcome. I shook that off and attempted to internalize everything listed.

"You good, Sabrina?" James asked.

I glanced up from my computer. "Huh? Oh, yeah. I'm fine."

"You sure? Because you look like you're just about to explode," he laughed.

"I'm fine," I said. When he gave me look that said he didn't believe that for a second, I added, "I swear."

James clicked his tongue and went back to editing whatever video he had filmed earlier. I turned my attention back to the screen and began to reread his comments starting from the beginning.

"Sabrina," a voice said from the doorway of the intern office. I looked up and saw Trent standing, seemingly ready to go somewhere although it was only 10:00 AM. "I'm doing an exclusive profile and you're going to shadow me."

I minimized my story and repeated what he had just said in my head. Shadowing Trent doing a profile sounded more wonderful than anything else I could imagine. That was one of the things that really got me into journalism. Being able to ask those hard hitting questions and get actual answers. However, I couldn't help but feel extreme nervousness at the idea of being around Trent after he had just ripped apart my story to it's bare bones and spat on it.

"Right now?" I asked and he nodded. "Where is it that we're going? And who are you doing a profile on?"

"I'm going to be doing the profile on Ted Lasso, the new AFC Richmond coach. We'll be going to the Richmond training center. Be there in thirty minutes."

☕︎︎☕︎︎☕︎︎

I arrived at the training center a minute or so before Trent, who pulled into the spot next to me. He glanced over at me before hopping out of his car and I followed. We walked onto the practice field behind the center, where the two coaches were already standing. The boys were doing some drill.

Curses, both mumbled and yelled in frustration at messing up or just because came from the players. The two coaches stood, watching carefully. Coach Beard stood next to Coach Lasso, arms crossed and eyes covered by sunglasses. His face was passive but he was paying extremely close attention to how the players were handling the drill. Coach Lasso was saying something (as he seemed to always be) to the other coach, ignoring the fact that he seemed to not be paying attention. Behind the coaches was who I assumed to be the kit man setting up cups of some sports drink concoction.

Ted looked over at us. "Hey, there he is!"

Trent smiled slightly. He played with his glasses in his hand as he said, "Hello Coach Ted Lasso from America."

"Hello, Trent Crimm from The Independent." Ted looked at me and smiled, recognition immediately filling his face. I thought back to Jamie in the bar the other night, how he didn't remember me. I pushed the thought of that asshole out of my mind as Ted continued, "And hello to you, Miss Pennsylvania!"

Trent glanced between the two of us. "I see you've already met my intern, Sabrina Lewis. She's shadowing me today." He threw me a look that silently asked how I knew the coach.

"Yeah, we met at the press conference. Glad to see me and Coach Beard here aren't the only two patriots in England!" He joked. "Well, I'm excited to spend the day with ya'. And please, call me Ted." He shook both our hands with a smile on his face and I wondered if his mouth was permanently frozen that way or if he was truly always that happy.

My attention turned back to the field as cries of 'Here!' and 'I'm open!' came from all around. Although, I could pick out Jamie Tartt's voice the most from the group. I grimaced at the idea that spending all day at AFC Richmond also meant spending all day the place he worked. My mood quickly turned around as I watched a beautiful pass be made to Sam Obisanya, who sunk the ball into the back of the net.

As Obisanya celebrated with the people around him, my eyes found Jamie. He was shorts that rode up too much and clung tight his butt and crotch. Of course he would that of thing to fucking training. He looked annoyed at the fact that the ball hadn't been passed to him, and instead had went to the wide open Sam.

Ted jogged onto the field blowing his whistle. "Atta boy, Sammy! How'd that feel?"

"Oh, wonderful coach," Sam replied, the high from scoring the hall still evident in his voice. "I felt that one in my penis."

"Yeah! No, that sounds about right, that's good!" The coaches attention then turned to Jamie. "You gotta sell that run through hard, baby. Make the defense believe you. Watch, like this."

Ted proceeded to show an extremely over-the-top call for the ball. This included yelling and pointing his feet, which made me suppress a giggle at the thought of Jamie doing.

After the coach finished his performance, Jamie's eyes trailed over and met mine. I forced my expression to remain neutral and watched his. At first, he looked confused. Whether it was at mine and Trent's simple presence at the training or if he was trying once again to remember me, I wasn't sure. It seemed my splashing drink had left enough of an impression though that the confusion quickly turned to recognition and obvious annoyance. He winked at me and I couldn't tell if it was some weird way of expressing his anger at me or if his had just twitched.

I felt Trent glance at me, obviously having also watched whatever the hell Jamie just did. "Do you two know each other?" He asked.

"I know enough about. He knows very little about me," I replied, attempting to be as cryptic as possible to avoid continuing to discuss him.

Jamie turned to Ted. "You want me to run decoy? That's a fucking joke. Lucky for you though, no one thinks it's funny."

That comment made team captain, Roy Kent, step forward. "I have to disagree. I found it hilarious. I thought it was funnier than Step Brothers. The scene where the bunk bed collapses... I used to think it was the funniest thing I'd ever seen, but than I just saw that. And now I'm gonna have to rethink my order of what was the funniest thing I've ever seen."

Ted said something else that I didn't quite catch, since Jamie had once again found my eyes. He had looked over quickly after Roy finished speaking, seemingly wondering if I had heard what he said. I rolled my eyes and looked away.

"It's a smart play," I muttered to Trent. "And it could work if Tartt would put aside his own ego."

"Hmm," Trent nodded. As Ted came back over, Trent remarked, "Interesting play, Ted. Did you come up with this?"

"Oh no, this was all cooked up by our very own Nate the Great!"

"Who's Nate the Great?" Trent asked. Coach Beard pointed over to the kit man, who had moved on from the sports drinks and onto setting up balls.

"Someone's been walking their dog here!" Nate called. "Found another poo!"

Trent and I exchanged a look. Ted was entrusting the plays done by his team to his kit man? The kit man that was currently looking for dog shit on the field?

When Trent had followed up on what exactly Nate the Great did, and then asked what I had been thinking previously, Ted just replied with "That young fella's forgotten more about the sport than I'll ever know. Heck, he might be a genius." He turned to Coach Beard. "Anything to add, Coach."

Beard nodded, arms crossed and gaze still fixed on the players. "Good kid."

Ted immediately dropped into what I was only 50% sure was exaggerated shock. "Boy, oh boy. If you knew Coach Beard you'd know what high praise that was! You really mean that, don't you?"

Beard nodded and Ted went on another one of ramblings. I stared at the two of them and wondered, not for the first time, how they ended up coaching this team. Ted's intentions seemed truly positive and he seemed to be only for the betterment of the team. Maybe the first game was truly a fluke.

"Tighten up those lines!" Beard yelled, startling me and clearly shocking Trent. I had been beginning to think he didn't speak.

"Let 'em know, Coach," Ted said.

☕︎︎☕︎︎☕︎︎

After training had concluded, Trent and I were lead into the Coaches office. Trent began looking around, searching through the office for anything he could use for his story. I busied myself by making sure my back stayed to the window that looked into the locker room.

"Looking out there won't kill you," Beard said, once again startling me.

"Yeah, but if I see Jamie Tartt one more time I might kill him," I thought. Instead of voicing this, I said, "I thought you didn't talk."

Beard shrugged and replied, "I talk when I have something to say." He turned and took a white board I was guessing had a play on it away from where Trent was looking before Ted walked into the room, now wearing a sweater.

Before anything could happen, Trent motioned me over. "Go see what comments you can get out of the players in the locker room," he told me in a low tone.

I looked at him, confused. "Why? The profile is happening in here?"

"And I'm your mentor who is giving you a chance to go experience some real journalistic endeavors by getting comments."

I raised an eyebrow. "Is that why or are you just annoyed I'm not telling you how Jamie Tartt and I know each other?" It was the most I had ever said in terms of fighting a thing Trent had told me to do and I regretted it as soon as I said it. I was still upset over the article criticism from earlier, and my filter didn't seem to be working as well as it normally did.

However, Trent smiled. "Maybe. Now go."

I held back a groan and walked out of the office into the locker room. I scanned the room for who I could potentially ask questions. My eyes, not for the first time that day, landed on Jamie who was already staring at me. He stood up from his spot and began walking over to me. I panicked, quickly scanning the room again and found a pissed off Roy Kent brooding in by his locker. And, since anything seemed better than hearing whatever Jamie was going to say to me, I walked over to him.

"Hi," I said. He looked at me, confusion evident on his face. Taking a deep breath and slipping into my reporter persona, I pulled out my notepad and introduced myself. "I'm Sabrina Lewis. I work at The Independent. I was wondering if you had any comments on Ted Lasso's coaching methods?"

He looked at me up and down, still confused. "Why the fuck are you asking me?"

"You're the team captain. You're the most obvious choice to ask." When he gave me a look, I sighed. "Also, I did not particularly care to talk to Jamie Tartt. I'm already having a bad day and I just... can't deal with him right now."

Roy smiled (I think? His face stayed mainly the same) and I hoped it was at the fact I didn't want to talk to Jamie and not that I was having a bad day. "I'm glad we can both agree that Tartt's a prick."

"I didn't say prick," I defended, though I definitely thought he was prick. However, openly admitting to that in a locker room surrounded by his teammates didn't seem like the greatest idea.

"Yeah, but you thought it."

"Do you have a comment or not?"

"Oi! Drink girl!" Yells interrupted my attempt at extracting anything worthy of printing from Roy. I looked to their source and saw Isaac and Colin.

"Jesus," I muttered. I had half hoped they wouldn't recognize me.

"'Drink girl?'" Sam asked, his attention turning from his locker to the interaction happening around him.

"That's the girl that threw her drink on Jamie!" Colin exclaimed. The locker room, Roy included, burst out laughing. My face heated up and I glanced over at Jamie whose eyes were still on me. He was not laughing and honestly looked a little pissed that the drink incident was brought up. Good. I'm glad it embarrassed him.

"You just keep getting more interesting," Roy clapped me on the back.

"So, I'm assuming you don't have a comment?" I asked, trying to get back on track.

"Oh, fuck no. Not one I'd give to the press," Roy said. "Sorry, mate."

I sighed and continued to ignore Jamie, Colin, and Isaac's stare. Sam offered me a smile from behind Roy and I returned it. Rebuilding my confidence, I turned around and looked at Isaac.

"Lily says hi," I said, which was a lie. She had not mention Isaac since she spent the night flirting with him, but she probably wouldn't mind me saying she did.

"Oooh," echoed the locker room and I was struck with the the realization that they sounded like a chorus of middle schoolers after someone is called down to the office.

"Roy, Coach says you're gonna roll out in ten," Beard said. Sometime in the last minute or so he had walked out of the office.

I felt my phone vibrate and looked down to see it was Trent. He very rarely texted me, and when he did it was exclusively work related.

Trent Crimm

Trent Crimm
I am going with Ted to a school
to continue the profile. You can
go back to the office and look
over my feedback of your last
story.

Sabrina Lewis
I can't go with you?

Trent Crimm
Correct.

Sabrina Lewis
You knew I wouldn't be able
to get any comments from the
team, didn't you?

Trent Crimm
Also correct.

I POWERED OFF MY phone and began to walk out of the locker room, leaving the team ti their arguing. As I walked down the hallway, I heard my name being called. I turned and was met with Jamie Tartt's face once again. I turned again and kept walking.

"Wait!" He called. I stopped walking and let him walk around me to be face-to-face with me. For a moment he just stared at me.

"Are you going to say something or are you just wasting my time?" I asked.

"I'm trying to remember your name," he jabbed. I rolled my eyes. "I didn't know you were press."

"It was one of the first things I told you." Seriously, did this guy have short term memory loss?

"Yeah, but I didn't believe that. Since you're American and all."

"Who the hell lies about something like that?" I crossed my arms over my chest. "And I went to University in England. I have family that lives here." Very distant family that does not like me or my mother, but he didn't need to know that.

"Well, I just wanted to let you know that you don't have to show up to work to get my attention," he smirked. He knew it bothered me that he said stuff like that, and he was now using that to annoy me on purpose.

I pushed past him. Who did that guy think he was?

Authors notes:
Thank you guys SO much for 3,000 reads! I'm glad you all like this story as much as I like writing it. Please remember to vote and comment if you enjoyed this chapter!