“I’ve dealt with cold before. You act like I haven’t played in Wisconsin.”
“Playing there and living there are two totally different things. Their salary cap isn’t going to give us much wiggle room.” Ernie’s no-longer-a-pack-a-day, been-around-the-block voice rumbled.
“I don’t care. If they’ll play me, I want to see how the talks go.” I notched the speed up another half step. After training camp, I’d pushed myself harder than ever, and I’d still been relegated to the bench. Second string after proving myself on the field, like an incredibly well paid mascot. It had its benefits, though, like starting a foundation reaching out to kids like me and setting them on a better path. Tonight, I had to take a couple who’d won an auction for my foundation to a Without Grey concert. Whenever I heard their music, I couldn’t help but think of Bay.
It hadn’t helped that their hits felt like they had been non-stop over the past few years, but their songs weren’t the only reason I avoided the radio or kept my streaming channels to music from decades past.
Without Grey’s music seemed to be inextricably enmeshed in my life, although I’d only met them a few times. But tonight, at their concert I’d be a good host to the auction winners. Their bid had been generous and would do all kinds of good.
Ernie’s gruff voice broke through my trip down memory lane. “It’s less money. Come on, Keyton, you’re killing me here. I have three college educations to pay for.”
“Your ten percent will more than cover it, and think about how many more endorsement deals we can get once I’m actually playing.”
I’d thought there were no more second chances in football, but it turned out superstition had a way of making people rewrite all kinds of rules.
“Those deals I’ve negotiated are mighty nice already.”
“Think about doubling it. So much more leverage, if I’m the one who makes the game winning catch or block.”
“Or you break your leg again.”
“That was three years ago.” I jabbed the button, cranking up my speed trying to sweat out the frustration. Charlotte put me in during my first season after my trade to the Lions. I’d played in five games. We lost all five, but the clincher had been a brutal tackle that had left me with my leg in traction for two weeks before surgery and then months of rehab and physiotherapy. My trade to Miami the next season had been for almost nothing compared to most contracts, but I was fully healed and ready to play. They had other ideas on how to use me, and it wasn’t on the field. But it added another ring to my shelf, and the good luck shine was back on me for the trade to Philly for my fifth season. The sixth started in less than a week.
“And the only season you don’t have a championship ring for. No one wants to chance it. It’s safer for you sitting pretty on the bench.”
“I don’t want to ride the bench anymore.”
The wheels were turning on the other end of the line. “I still don’t like it.”
“You don’t have to like it. I have to like it and I want to see what options I have.”
Grumbles were all that came over the other end of the line. “Fine, but if they start screwing us around, we walk.”
“We’ll see what the offer is first and then decide if they’re screwing us around or not.”
Training camp was over. Another season was about to begin. Another year of wins. Another five months of being a useless waste of space.
Five championship rings sat in the safe in my closet. Five rings from three different teams. Speculation flew on whether I’d spend the next season in Philly or move on to greener, more lucrative pastures. The same thing had been repeating in my head since walking out onto the field amidst confetti, fireworks and a gleaming gold trophy lifted overhead.
Every year around this time, those memories resurfaced. The summer that changed my life. The summer I’d lost Bay and almost lost everything.
I jammed my finger into the cool down button and slowed from my sprint to a jog and finally a walk.
Six years, two months, and three days.
The last time I’d seen her I’d told her I didn’t want to go anywhere near that long without seeing her again, and my wish had been granted like one made on a monkey’s paw.
She’d been in music videos, commercials, award shows, red carpets and charity events. I hadn’t had to spend six years without seeing her. Instead, I got to see her what felt like daily, and it was worse—so much worse.
My phone lit up beside the water bottle slotted into the dashboard of the treadmill.
“Knox, what’s up?”
“You’re not going to give me the scoop?”
I laughed and jabbed the stop button. “A true reporter now, huh?” Grabbing my towel, I ran it over my neck and face.
“Only trying to prove my worth now that I’m off the field.”
“Keep taking your shirt off and I’m sure the ratings boost from the ladies will secure your seat.”
“The cookies have finally taken hold in the off-season.” He sighed, but didn’t sound the least bit remorseful. “The six-pack isn’t what it once was.”
Dumping my towel in the hamper, I kicked off my shoes and headed for the kitchen. The fridge was stocked with protein shakes and grilled chicken and vegetable dishes portioned out to my nutritionist's specifications.
“I can tell by your silence that you’re staying in peak physical condition as always.”
“Being prepared to head out on the field is half the battle.” The other half was actually getting some playing time.
“You should be swimming in your money Scrooge McDuck-style and shoving your face full of cake at every turn. How many guys make it to their sixth?”
“Probably a few kickers out there.”
His laugh vibrated the phone in my hand.
I grabbed one of the green shakes and kicked the fridge door closed. “And how many guys have had less than a game of playing time in five seasons?”
“Are we having this conversation again? Take the money and run. Or don’t. Other than that apartment Alice had you get you’re probably still spending money like you were when you were on the practice squad.”
The pristinely sophisticated apartment in the Four Seasons. Who even knew you could live in a hotel like this? I hadn’t. The view was stunning. One Liberty Place gleamed right outside my window. The price tag for a year in this place had stung like a hive of bees finding out I was after their honey, but it had been a compromise. Alice hadn’t wanted to move in here. She’d wanted a house. Somewhere with a yard. A place to start a family.
The apartment had been a compromise and the beginning of the end.
“Is there a conversation or just a lecture?”
“I’m worried about you, man.”
“Don’t be. I’m good. Never better. The foundation’s going well. I have another purely ornamental position on another team poised to make it to the championship. I haven’t had a fight in what? Four years.” After over twenty years of friendship, he still worried about me like I was the kid hiding out in his basement in Greenwood. He didn’t need to worry about me, but old patterns died hard—the same ones I’d worked on correcting. I couldn’t blame him for having his own. At least his patterns didn’t leave him with bruised knuckles and a busted lip.