She stood and looked at her phone. “Maria Cortez, Sports Illustrated. Coach McCoy, what’s is like being the first female offensive coordinator in the NFL?”

I exhaled and gave the answer I’d practiced. “It’s an amazing opportunity. I hope that I’m not the last. In the last five years, the NFL has opened its doors to female coaches, trainers, referees, owners, and even the first female commissioner. It was just a matter of time before one of us had the title of offensive coordinator.”

“Any pushback?” Her follow-up question was expected.

“None. The players only want to get better and they trust me and the team of coaches within the organization to make that happen for them. I know football and they know that I do.” I clamped my mouth shut and waited for the next question. As planned, they were easy and predictable, and I answered each one confidently. I was on a roll until Duane Spitzer from USA Today Sports brought up my past before college.

“You went to Oak Grove High School.”

He waited for some sort of confirmation. I nodded. “Yes?” I wanted to say “so what” but that would have been rude.

“You were the first female quarterback in your state. You even took the Oak Grove Pumas to the state championship game where your team put up a good fight but lost seven to twenty.”

“Thank you, Duane, for bringing up a painful memory.” I chuckled and was met with nervous laughter from the group. It appeared we were all somewhat confused by his line of questioning. “Next question.”

He stood and waved his hand at me and them. “Wait. I’m not done.”

“Duane, we don’t have all day. Final question and then we’re moving on,” Bill said.

I didn’t like Duane. I could tell by his mannerisms and the way he shushed others around him that he was going to be a problem in future press conferences.

“The team has just signed Grayson Moats as the Cheetahs’ starting quarterback.” He didn’t wait for confirmation. He kept talking. “You played against Grayson when you were a Puma, right?”

There was a slight murmur. “It’s a small world. We’re from the same state. And yes, we joked about it the night before he signed.” I glanced over at Bill.

“Sit down, Duane,” he said. He didn’t seem overly fond of Duane either.

Duane waved again. “No, wait. Last question.”

I motioned for him to continue and kept the eye roll in check.

“So, you laughed about it before he signed. Was it awkward seeing his wife, your ex-girlfriend, again after fifteen years?” he asked.

That was a question nobody prepared me for. I tried to breathe. I could feel my lungs clawing for air. I tried not to react. Instead, I looked at Bill for help. He didn’t miss a beat.