by Amber Heart
As he walked toward her, Kennedi mentally rescinded all of the thoughts she had earlier about how normal she thought he looked as she observed him on the practice field. Clearly, the silhouetted form she thought she saw, apparently seated much too far away, did no justice to the three-dimensional man standing in front of her.
Taken by surprise but excited to get started, Kennedi stood to make Dante’ acquaintance. “Nice to meet you,” she said extending her hand, “Kennedi Kincaid, the Douglas Weekly.”
“Dante’ Douglas,” he replied, reaching out to reciprocate her handshake. As their hands met, her fingers wrapped around his and squeezed tightly. Kennedi was struck by the firmness and warmth in Dante’s grip. So far, nothing was as she had expected it to be. Considering how much he relied on his hands as the quarterback of his team, Kennedi expected them to be hard, perhaps even callused. Instead, the soft texture of his skin matched what she perceived – at least from the way he started the meeting – to be the tenderness of his character. Both were a welcome detour from her the scenario she expected.
After the handshake, both Dante’ and Kennedi nervously took their seats, actively avoiding eye contact with one another. From the outside looking in, it appeared that both were anticipating an intense discussion and were taking a last-minute opportunity to steal a moment or two for themselves before the interview officially began.
“Thanks for arranging this,” Kennedi said, smiling at Dante’. “I really appreciate you for taking the time to meet with me,” she continued, “you have an impressive past, an exciting future ahead of you, and you’re one of DSU’s most prized assets. My goal here is to document all of that in the most authentic way possible.”
As she spoke, Dante’ looked into Kennedi’s eyes and nodded along intermittently. Though she managed to speak coherently, Kennedi nerves were secretly on the fritz. In addition to contending with the gravity of the moment she also had a much unexpected battle on her hands. Dante’s almond shaped, hazel eyes were mesmerizing, breath-taking structures that, upon initial interaction, seemed to be like two-way mirrors. Not only did Kennedi feel like she was looking into his soul, she got the eerie feeling that he was peering right back into hers. Though she tried her best to engage him on a strictly professional level, Kennedi could feel herself getting lost in Dante’s eyes. Considering that they had just met and hadn’t even scratched the surface of their discussion, she tried to reel herself in – but the prospects weren’t looking good.
“I want to apologize for what happened earlier on the field,” Dante’ said, very sincerely with his head slightly lowered. “I’m not sure how it came off for you or how you saw it,” he continued, “but at the time, I had just been told about your project – I’m talking about…not even a full minute before. I felt blind-sided…like everybody knew about this, but me…”
“…and I’ll have to apologize for that,” Kennedi conceded. She wasn’t sure if Dante’ had completely finished his thought, but she felt compelled to interject and broaden his perspective. “That was my fault,” she added, wanting to be up-front about her role at the very beginning and hoping to absolve Coach Bailey of any wrongdoing. “I decided, when I first started thinking about how to cover the story, that it might be better to see you in your element before springing this idea on you. I know, now, that I should’ve planned differently and I’m glad that I have an opportunity to say so – and apologize – right at this moment. I can see how unnerving that experience might’ve been for you and I’m glad that you still decided to give this project a chance.”
Dante’ nodded but, unlike before, offered little show of emotion by way of his facial expression.
Happy that they were able to address the huge elephant in the room early-on and ready to move the discussion along, Kennedi reached for her tape recorder. “Do you mind if I turn this on----?” she asked, getting a hold of the somewhat archaic contraption and pulling it closer to her.
“Before you do that,” Dante’ said, sinking lower into his seat and crossing his arms, “I want to hear it directly from you. What are your motives here?”
Kennedi was stopped in her tracks; immediately. All over again, she felt like she would need to go into pitch-mode. Earlier, after her impromptu talk with Coach Bailey, she’d hoped to be done with this particular exercise for good. But suddenly, it sunk in; throughout the day, she had pitched to everyone except the actual subject of the series. “That’s a fair question,” Kennedi said, sitting back in her chair, and taking a moment to think.
As she prepared to answer Dante’ thoughtfully, Kennedi felt sheepish. She’d thought about how to sell her idea from just about every angle, but she never really put Dante’s needs at the center in any of them. In fact, the reasons that motivated her to do the series had less to do with Dante’ and more to do with what the coverage could do for DSU, the Weekly, and herself. All of the reasons she’d previously pitched were only helpful to Dante’ on the periphery. She knew she had to think fast.
“I want to tell your story,” she began. “I want people to have a multi-dimensional view of who you are and to understand what an asset your presence here on campus is – to all of us. I’m thinking across the gamut – from administrators, faculty, staff, and students to sports fans and sports agnostics alike. I see this series as a way for you to actively shape your legacy, in real-time. As a bonus, I think an engaging, profile-boosting profile about you can significantly buttress the future impact and reputation of the University. I think that’s just how powerful your story is and how important telling it can be. Not capturing this opportunity would be a significant misstep for everyone involved.”
“OK,” Dante’ said, staring off pensively. “I understand everything you just said but I want you to understand something as well...”
Kennedi suddenly realized that her frame had gotten tense; she relaxed her shoulders and titled her head toward Dante’. “I’m listening,” she said, giving him her full attention.
“It’s just that, everywhere I turn, it feels like everybody wants a piece of me. That people are out to help themselves and, if they’ve got to use me in the process, they’re perfectly fine with that. In order to preserve my own soul, I’ve got to put my foot down. Understanding how and when to do that…gracefully…is new to me. I just need to make sure this isn’t a bad look.”
Appreciating his candor, but wishing that she was catching it all on tape, Kennedi realized that she needed to tread lightly. “How about this?” she said, hoping to address Dante’s concern constructively. “What do you want this project – the articles I write, the pictures that I paint, and the perspectives that I present – to ultimately say about you?”
Dante’ exhaled and slowly drew his breath. He rolled his eyes up to the ceiling and then back down to Kennedi. “The main thing I want to come out of this is that I am a good dude, who works his tail off, and doesn’t take any of this for granted.”
Kennedi nodded, “Then that’s what we’ll do! Throughout the series, I’ll make sure that narrative shines through.”
“Sounds good,” Dante’ started, “just not tonight, though.”
Kennedi looked confused.
“You want to get this story on me?” Dante’ asked rhetorically. “Meet me back at the practice field – tomorrow morning – 5:00 AM sharp!”
Kennedi’s eyes grew wide, she couldn’t remember the last time she had been up that early. “5:00 AM?” She asked, hoping he’d say he was joking.
“Absolutely,” he confirmed. “Tonight was my way of getting warmed up to you. Seeing if I felt comfortable talking to you and being around you. Now that I know that I do, let’s get to business. 5:00 AM!” Dante’ rose from his chair, and unceremoniously made his exit, closing the door behind himself.
Kennedi stood up abruptly and started gathering her journalistic artifacts. In the midst of wrangling her tape recorder, notebook, and pens, she kept repeating over and again, “5:00 AM?!” She couldn’t believe how everything was turning out
and wondered if she was actually trapped in some kind of surreal nightmare.
Just then, Dante’ peeked back into the room, causing Kennedi to stop in her tracks. It wasn’t April, or anywhere close to it, but Kennedi totally expected him to yell, “April Fool!” But no, that’s not what happened at all – in fact, what actually happened was far from it. Instead of pulling back, Dante’ pushed forward. “I almost forgot,” he said with a smirk, “make sure you wear something comfortable.”
Before she could ask a question to clarify his directive, Dante’ had closed the door and disappeared all over again.
Chapter 6
As she woke up to the nagging call of her alarm, Kennedi was immediately struck by how her current morning contrasted with the previous one. Unlike the day before, within milliseconds of opening her eyes, she immediately sprang up, got dressed, and prepared herself to attack the day.
Recognizing that she is – by no means – a morning person, but desperately wanting to be prompt for her pre-dawn meeting, Kennedi knew that she had to carefully balance the dueling needs of getting the maximum amount of sleep and arriving on time to the practice field. Her ability to be both rested and timely would have a direct impact on the impression she made on Dante’ and her ability to build a solid rapport moving forward. In her pursuit of a realistic, reachable balance and an optimal solution to her conundrum, Kennedi ultimately decided on an approach that would give her 30 minutes to get from her bed and onto campus. Upon rising, she remembered that she hadn’t left any room to hit the snooze button and she dutifully obliged the unforgiving time-keeper on its initial notice.
In spite of the myriad of circumstances that could have derailed her, Kennedi came out on top. She made her way to campus, in what appeared to be the stillest part of the morning, and was in place, at the practice field sharply at 5:00 AM. Following Dante’s instruction to dress comfortably, she wore sweatpants, a T-shirt, and tennis shoes; she put her hair in a topknot and only wore a touch of gloss across her lips.
Feeling totally in the dark about how to prepare for the meeting or what they would be doing, Kennedi toted her book bag to the track, its straps draped across her shoulder. Filled with the same materials she’d brought for their discussion the night before, Kennedi came prepared with all she thought she needed to both have and capture a dynamic interview. Without a precise location to sync up, Kennedi stood along the track that encircled the practice field, in what she thought was an easily discernible spot.
“Good morning,” she heard a familiar voice say from behind her. She turned around to see Dante’ on the approach, clad in a pair of shorts, a T-shirt, and tennis shoes. “You ready to work out?” he asked nonchalantly, going into a stretch.
Kennedi’s mouth dropped; of course she wasn’t! Even in her wildest dreams, the most she thought she’d be doing is observing Dante’, in his element, going through a workout regimen. Recognizing how important it was to be flexible, she quickly fell in line. “Of course I am!” she said, fixing her face, dropping her bag, and falling into her own set of stretches.
“Good,” he followed up, with a smug look. “Here are the rules,” he began, stretching out his quads but looking intently in Kennedi’s direction. “In a few minutes, we’re going to start running around the track. During the workout, you can ask me whatever you want to – for as long as you can keep up.”
Kennedi silently stretched her neck as she listened to Dante. Could she run? Yes. Was she fit enough to keep up with Dante’? Not quite. Figuring that nothing beats a failure but a try, she decided to accept Dante’s terms. “Agreed!” she said, initially sounding confident and going into a hamstring stretch. “But,” she added, after a considerable amount of doubt crept into her thoughts, “suppose I can’t keep up?”
“Well,” Dante’ said, reaching his gigantic hands to the sky, in a Warrior 1 yoga pose, “keep running, keep moving forward! Stay alert and keep your eye on where I am.” Transitioning into the Warrior 2 pose, Dante’ continued, “When you see me circle back around the track, and our paths connect again, ask another question, and – again – just try to keep up.”
“Got it!” Kennedi said, still not confident but feeling better after hearing the contingency plan.
“Ready?” Dante’ said, walking toward the track and standing behind the white start line etched onto it.
“Ready!” Kennedi said enthusiastically, walking towards him and lining up on the brown and white surface.
“….and,” Dante’ said, getting in a relaxed runners stance, with Kennedi following his lead. “Go!”
As they started out, Kennedi and Dante’ were jogging in time with each other. Kennedi had never done an interview quite like this before and was frantically trying to get her mind and body to cooperate with each other. She urgently needed them to work in tandem in this highly unusual context.
“This is my warm-up,” Dante’ announced, jogging at a relaxed pace, “this may be the best time to get your questions in.”
Taking his cue, Kennedi began. “OK, let’s start here: with all of your talent, all of your promise, you could’ve chosen any college in the United States to launch your journey to the pros. Why DSU?”
“I get that a lot,” Dante’ said, still looking relaxed and still not breaking a sweat as his strong, powerful legs effortlessly propelled him around the track. “Well, actually, I’ve got deep family ties with this university,” he said, slowly getting to the heart of his answer.
As if a light bulb went off over her head, Kennedi suddenly realized that there may be more than a coincidence between Dante’s last name and the name of the institution. Wondering if there was more ground to cover and explore, she quickly put a follow-up question into her queue.
Dante’ continued. “Actually,” he said, “my mom and dad both went to DSU as undergraduates. This is where they met. My dad in particular loved the experience he had and always told me that I would go here ever since I was a little boy. He was adamant about me coming to DSU, well before anybody thought I would have a career in football. That really stuck with me.”
Starting to feel winded, Kennedi did her best to stay in step. As her breath got heavier and the sweat began to collect along her brow in beads, it almost felt like her queue of questions got scattered. Instead of accessing the most appropriate follow-up, she quickly reached for the first thing that came to mind. “Ah! So, when did you realize that football was your future? Has football always been it for you or were you interested in some other sport?”
“Actually,” Dante’ said, looking toward the sky, “I love basketball and football equally; I even played them both all throughout high school. I’m most naturally talented at football, though and – actually – I had coaches from both teams at DSU scout me during my senior year. The football coach, Coach Bailey, seemed way more invested in me as a person and that’s what I was looking for. So, it’s almost like football chose me; I’m not sure that I actually chose it.”
Although Kennedi was doing the best she could to stay on par with Dante’s, she was panting heavily and steadily losing ground. As he abandoned his warm-up pace for full-on workout mode, she could see the distance creeping in between them. When Dante’ realized that Kennedi had started to trail him from much too far behind, he quickly reminded her of their deal. “Don’t forget – keep moving!” he said, “We’ll link up the next time we cross paths on the track.” With that, he was off.
Kennedi was too winded to speak or even acknowledge that she had heard him. As she saw Dante’s well-chiseled, elegant form cut through the early morning air at a much faster pace than she ever could, she reviewed and digested the answers he’d already given her. Since she didn’t have her notebook or tape recorder with her, it was up to her memory to capture as much as it could. In order to preserve the accuracy of their conversation, she greedily stored all that she could into her memory bank.
Kennedi kept her promise to Dante’; despite increasing fatigue she kept moving forward. She didn’t walk,
as she thought she might, she just slowed her pace down significantly. Her strategy was simple: to catch her breath and be ready to ask the next question as soon as the opportunity presented itself.
While out on the track, Kennedi couldn’t help but kept her eyes on Dante’. The day before, she had the pleasure of getting lost in his mesmerizing eyes. Just now, she had the pleasure of seeing his body in motion, appreciating the curve and power of his muscles, and watching him move so majestically.
Getting back into the moment, Kennedi took a quick look behind herself to see Dante’ quickly gaining on her heels. Knowing that their paths would cross soon, she had to think fast about what her next question should be. She had gotten so wrapped up in everything else – his body, her fatigue, and the quest to record everything happening around her (in her mind) – that she had to force herself to focus. Hearing his footsteps get closer and closer from behind, she roughly estimated when they would be side-by-side. When she felt the time was right, she turned her head and blurted out, “Dante’, what is your greatest ambition….outside of football, that is!”
Kennedi had totally expected Dante’ to yell a flippant answer at her as he effortlessly passed her by – despite her best, yet futile attempt to keep pace. What actually happened, however, was quite different. Intrigued by her question, Dante’ slowed down considerably, back down to a jog, to align himself with Kennedi’s stride. “My ambitions beyond football?” he asked, making sure to meet her glance. “Did I hear that right?”
“Yeah,” Kennedi said, trying to catch her breath and unsure why he was so engrossed in that particular question.
What Kennedi didn’t realize was, by agreeing to such an unconventional interview and doing her best to keep moving, Dante’ had built an appreciation for her tenacity. He watched as she struggled to simultaneously keep up and ask the questions. While she had been observing him, as he raced around the track, he – in turn – had been observing her and was beginning to like what he saw.
