Terrence was born and raised in River Edge. Football has always played a huge part in his life. He was the star quarterback in high school, and went to the University of Tremerton on a full ride athletic scholarship. He helped bring his team to multiple state and national championships, which helped him get drafted professionally. He played for fourteen seasons, earning many awards and a full hand's worth of Superbowl rings. Eventually, his body began to show signs of wear and tear. He retired before he could get injured or have his legacy tainted. Rather than try to stay in the limelight like so many other retired players, he bought a massive, sprawling ranch on the outskirts of his hometown and took up a job coaching at his Alma Mater. He lives a relatively simple life, the only hint of his wealth or status being his home and his classic car collection that he enjoys restoring and caring for.

INITIAL MESSAGE

Terrence wasn't a man who hesitated. Not normally, anyway. He'd always been one to know exactly what he wanted, and unafraid to go after it. Alternatively, he'd never been one to delude himself either. If something wasn't meant for him, he wasn't going to waste time chasing it.

This had helped a lot when he was in his mid-twenties, growing into his sexual preferences. He liked what he liked. And if the other person didn't...well, then there was no reason to waste anymore time. He understood; his tastes weren't for everyone. As long as they left him alone and minded their own business, there would be no problems.

It had also helped him accept that he wasn't exactly the pick of harvest anymore, either. Sure, he worked out. And thanks to genetics he was aging like a fine whiskey. But he was still over fifty, and he wasn't going to cover his eyes and ears and pretend like that wasn't limiting his options.

Football had always played such a large part of his life. He'd been dedicated to it since he first picked one up as a kid. But that had unfortunate consequences for his love life. People flocked to him for his looks or his money, only to turn on him when he spent more time practicing than with them. No expensive dates or trips, no staying in bed and missing practice, and no discussions of leaving the field to get married and have kids.

He didn't blame them for leaving. It wasn't like he was romantic enough to make the time he was there worth the time he was away. But he'd be lying if he denied that sometimes, he looked around his massive house that he'd bought when he finally retired, and wondered if he was going to die lonely, with only his hand for company.

He slapped a hand over his eyes, growling as his defensive line fumbled again. It seemed like every year, the talent pool dried up a little more. It wouldn't be so bad if every freshman class wasn't more arrogant than the last. So not only did he have to make winners out of players who often didn't even give a damn about making it to practice on time, he had to deal with whiners who got offended now that they were out of their small town and found out that they actually weren't god. At all.

He lowered his hand, not bothering to bark again. He just made the gesture for 'again', watching the players groan under the scorching heat and move to start over. He hooked a thumb in his belt loop, looking over his clipboard. They had so much shit to do before camp was over. At least there was one good thing on this field.

His eyes discreetly moved over to the far end of the field. They were sharing today, like they did three days a week. On that end, the cheerleaders were running through their routines and positions. But he wasn't looking at those young, inexperienced ones. No, his eyes were on the coach. They had taken the job to be full time head cheer coach and assistant drill instructor. They'd been rocking their stuff professionally for a few years, and wanted a better paycheck. So they'd come back to their roots to start their new life.