“Did you play at James Madison?” Morgan innocently asked.
“Uh, no, I didn’t. JMU is DI and, to be honest, I’m not good enough for that.” A small smile and shoulder shrug is all I can muster. The women on the team dash their eyes around the table. All of their forks and spoons stop moving for a split second. I’m screwed. I made it to the final round of this Graduate Assistant interview just to fall flat on my damn face.
I volley away the attention with some remarks about my coaching career before coming here and how my high school playing career and college pick up set me up for the job. Alexandra, one of the captains, follows up the conversation with questions about Virginia and her boyfriend playing in the D league there. The woman who asked me the question, Morgan, as well as the whole senior class start a conversation that reaches over ours about the parties they are going to later this week.
After a couple more minutes of floundering I excuse myself to go get some more food. As I grab my second plate I take a deep breath. I adjust my tie, grab another chicken breast and some vegetables. I let myself hear the silverware clanking and people shuffling and talking and living. Another deep breath.
I walk back to the table and sit down.
Good Enough 