There was an eagle, some tribal designs, words, numbers, and more things she couldn’t make out. She made a mental note to ask him about his tattoos during the interview.
“He’s looking good in there,” Hank said, leaning toward her.
She nodded, not wanting to say anything in case she’d distract Trent some more. They watched in silence for a few minutes, then Sam thought it best to go. Trent needed to focus and not have them watch over his shoulder.
“We should go, Hank.”
“Alright,” he said, taking one last look.
She nodded at Ramirez who was standing on the other side of the ring and he gave her a barely perceptible nod in return. He hadn’t said anything to her the entire time she’d been there. Well, so much for the gentlemen in this place. She pointed at the plate of cookies in her hand and set it on a table by the wall. He nodded again in acknowledgement.
She didn’t say bye to Trent for obvious reasons. He’d gotten punched in the head when they arrived, so she didn’t want a repeat of that.
They made their way out quietly and Sam was glad that Hank had enjoyed himself. She could see it on his face. He seemed ten years younger, smiling from ear to ear.
“That just made my week.”
“I’m happy to hear it,” she replied, laughing.
They got in the car and she pulled out of the parking lot. She wished she could say the same, but that wasn’t the case. It’d been good to see Trent, but they still had unresolved business to take care of.
***
That afternoon, Ramirez introduced Trent to Bill Potter, a sports psychologist. Trent shook the guy’s hand with hesitation and more than enough irritation. Why the fuck was Ramirez bringing in a psychologist?
“I heard you just lost your first fight,” Bill said, looking at him with interest.
Trent nodded, giving Ramirez a look that spoke volumes.
“Going through such an important event can be life-changing,” Bill continued.
No shit, Trent wanted to say. He kept quiet though, not sure if he was supposed to be replying to anything the guy said anyways.
“A lot of athletes have a hard time recovering from a loss, especially one that is so monumental. When they feel like they’ve reached a certain point in their training or their career, or when what they’re doing isn’t cutting it anymore, they come see me.”
“Is that so?” Trent crossed his arms. “And what do you do?”
“I help them work out their issues and make sure they’re mentally prepared to move forward.”
That sounded like a bunch of bullshit to Trent. A therapist? Ramirez seriously wanted to bring in this guy?
“So what do you think you can do for me?” he asked, giving Bill a once-over.
“Well, I’m not a miracle worker, but what I like to do is get your take on what’s been happening with your fights and your training, and go from there.”
“And then?”
“Then we bring you to your mental peak. I analyze your mental state, check your self-esteem, anxiety levels, attention, imagination, motivation, stress management abilities, and goal setting.”
Trent’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you fucking serious?” He glared at Ramirez. “My mental state? Like I’m some kind of a nut job?”
Ramirez held his hands up as if to calm him down. “Just hear the guy out, Trent. He’s here to help and has helped lots of other guys.”
“So you think I need help now? Like I can’t do this shit on my own?”
“Sometimes it’s hard to step back and see the bigger picture,” Bill said in his cool and collected manner. Trent wanted to punch the calmness out of him.
“I don’t need a fucking shrink,” he told Ramirez.
“It’s not like that, Trent. You’re not gonna talk about your fucking feelings on who knows what. He’s here to make sure you can visualize the fight. Get your head back in the ring again.”
“That’s right,” Bill added. “The first thing I do with the fighters I work with is set goals that can be measured and actually
“He’s looking good in there,” Hank said, leaning toward her.
She nodded, not wanting to say anything in case she’d distract Trent some more. They watched in silence for a few minutes, then Sam thought it best to go. Trent needed to focus and not have them watch over his shoulder.
“We should go, Hank.”
“Alright,” he said, taking one last look.
She nodded at Ramirez who was standing on the other side of the ring and he gave her a barely perceptible nod in return. He hadn’t said anything to her the entire time she’d been there. Well, so much for the gentlemen in this place. She pointed at the plate of cookies in her hand and set it on a table by the wall. He nodded again in acknowledgement.
She didn’t say bye to Trent for obvious reasons. He’d gotten punched in the head when they arrived, so she didn’t want a repeat of that.
They made their way out quietly and Sam was glad that Hank had enjoyed himself. She could see it on his face. He seemed ten years younger, smiling from ear to ear.
“That just made my week.”
“I’m happy to hear it,” she replied, laughing.
They got in the car and she pulled out of the parking lot. She wished she could say the same, but that wasn’t the case. It’d been good to see Trent, but they still had unresolved business to take care of.
***
That afternoon, Ramirez introduced Trent to Bill Potter, a sports psychologist. Trent shook the guy’s hand with hesitation and more than enough irritation. Why the fuck was Ramirez bringing in a psychologist?
“I heard you just lost your first fight,” Bill said, looking at him with interest.
Trent nodded, giving Ramirez a look that spoke volumes.
“Going through such an important event can be life-changing,” Bill continued.
No shit, Trent wanted to say. He kept quiet though, not sure if he was supposed to be replying to anything the guy said anyways.
“A lot of athletes have a hard time recovering from a loss, especially one that is so monumental. When they feel like they’ve reached a certain point in their training or their career, or when what they’re doing isn’t cutting it anymore, they come see me.”
“Is that so?” Trent crossed his arms. “And what do you do?”
“I help them work out their issues and make sure they’re mentally prepared to move forward.”
That sounded like a bunch of bullshit to Trent. A therapist? Ramirez seriously wanted to bring in this guy?
“So what do you think you can do for me?” he asked, giving Bill a once-over.
“Well, I’m not a miracle worker, but what I like to do is get your take on what’s been happening with your fights and your training, and go from there.”
“And then?”
“Then we bring you to your mental peak. I analyze your mental state, check your self-esteem, anxiety levels, attention, imagination, motivation, stress management abilities, and goal setting.”
Trent’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you fucking serious?” He glared at Ramirez. “My mental state? Like I’m some kind of a nut job?”
Ramirez held his hands up as if to calm him down. “Just hear the guy out, Trent. He’s here to help and has helped lots of other guys.”
“So you think I need help now? Like I can’t do this shit on my own?”
“Sometimes it’s hard to step back and see the bigger picture,” Bill said in his cool and collected manner. Trent wanted to punch the calmness out of him.
“I don’t need a fucking shrink,” he told Ramirez.
“It’s not like that, Trent. You’re not gonna talk about your fucking feelings on who knows what. He’s here to make sure you can visualize the fight. Get your head back in the ring again.”
“That’s right,” Bill added. “The first thing I do with the fighters I work with is set goals that can be measured and actually
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