by Andrea Cale
Syracuse fans had seen enough. Many joined a growing chorus of boos.
“I just can’t take this,” said JP’s mother. “I’m out of here. I’m going to walk to my office. Call me when it’s over.”
“You’re leaving?”
“Of course I’m leaving. It is unbearable to just sit here and watch.”
JP’s father found it hard to argue with that.
“What about me? I can’t battle this entire stadium on my own. I’m not as spry as I once was.”
“Oh, please,” she said angrily. You always treat the ones you love the worst, she acknowledged to herself. Today, she was definitely taking things out on her husband.
He tried to come up with another reason—a better reason—for her to stay.
“But what about JP? Don’t you think he needs you here?”
“Our seats are so far up my nose is practically hemorrhaging. JP will never know the difference. Call me when this is over.”
Down on the field, JP absorbed the heckling, which came at him from every angle. He knew he deserved it. He had looked up at the exact seats in which he had sat during his youth. Back then, he was on the same side as the crowd, cheering when the Orange and Navy made a good play and running his exasperated little fingers through his hair when things didn’t go the team’s way.
As he made his way off the field on this very different day, he squinted upward to find his mother rise from her seat. He couldn’t see her expression or read her body language from so far away, but he knew her frame. He’d spent his whole life beside it as her sidekick. The sight of her reminded him that there were bigger things in life than fumbling a ball. In this game and throughout his life, she unknowingly managed to mute the hecklers for him. Without her, life would’ve taken a much different and unknown turn. He was lucky. If he couldn’t make his dream work this time for himself, he would do it for her. She would become his inspiration to turn things around. She would always serve as his calming force.
After working her way down flights upon flights of stairs of ticked-off fans, the professor pushed open a big, non-revolving door of the stadium. The air pressure seemed to kick her out like a big wind gust, like a big kick in the rear. She instantly wanted to go back and support her son. Had it really been too much to bear? She couldn’t help him or hold him, she thought. She knew the position was a responsibility he had to take care of on his own. She decided during her familiar campus schlep to her office that she’d at least turn on the radio and force herself to listen to JP’s every step. For better or worse, she knew the radio broadcasters would be covering him closely.
With all of her students’ term papers graded and final exams corrected, the professor glanced nervously about her workspace for anything to keep her busy. She peered into the eyes of the youthful picture of JP that was still propped up on her desk. She looked up through her skylight at the heavenly view that saw her through good days and bad. Her foot tapped the trashcan that once caught the Infertility: A Practical Guide for the Physician book. Her fingers ran across the greasy black phone that had once facilitated the call from the adoption agent who so many years ago had said he might be able to give her a son.
The professor finally turned on an old clock radio and moved the dial along a blaring medley of fuzz and music stations until she finally found a young voice talking about the game. She was desperate for a score. Lucky for her, she chose a station operated by SC’s communications school, where faculty taught budding sports broadcasters to give the score often, because that was really what the audience wanted most.
“Well, we’re already at the half of a heavily defensive game, but the Orange and Navy have managed to put seven on the board to the Tennessee Volunteers’ zero. And those points came from the unlikeliest of players. For those of you just tuning in, my colleague Derek here has the story.”
The professor instinctively grasped the photo of her son in the office and clung to it like a lucky charm.
“Thanks, Matt. It’s been a climactic half to stay the least. JP Hemmings is the unlikeliest of scorers indeed, especially following a horrendous start in the first quarter. Incidentally, how many times have you heard boos toward an Orange and Navy in their own stadium before today, Matt?”
“I think that was a first for me, Derek. We’re here talking about Syracuse College’s 7-0 lead against Tennessee at the half. Back to you, Derek, for the summary so far.”
“Yes. JP indeed had a rough start. The pressure seemed to get to the five-foot, six-inch player, who laid down on the ball on his first carry and, even worse, fumbled it on his second.”
“There was a lot riding on this little guy. We should add that those weren’t just his first carries of the game—this game is the first he’s played all season. And with the Orange and Navy’s star running back out with an injured shoulder, JP took the starting position.”
“That’s right, Matt. You can literally feel the emotion here in the stadium. The walls have been rocking. We’re talking about the Orange and Navy’s 7-0 lead at the half. Those seven points came, despite enormous pressure, from JP Hemmings in an impressive 24-yard run in which he dodged three sizable Tennessee Volunteers to break free for the end zone and give SC the only points of the game so far.”
JP’s mother raised the boy’s picture and shook it silently in celebration.
“I think there were a few fans in the stands left eating their words after that play. Talk about elusive. Talk about quick feet. Talk about going from nothing to something.”
“That’s right, Matt. Seven-to-zero at the half, with a touchdown by an unfamiliar backup to a backup to a backup running back named JP Hemmings. As you know, Matt, this is a big televised game with big consequences. The Orange and Navy’s dream of a cream-of-the-crop bowl game hinges on whether they can pull out a win here today. When asked at the half how he managed to snap out of his funk and turn things around, JP told a major network’s on-field correspondent that he saw his mother, of all people, rise in the stands and he collected himself for her. He said she’s sitting with his father in the nosebleeds, the very pair of seats the parents took turns bringing JP to as a boy. Before hustling off the field, he added that back then, his parents didn’t even like football.”
“Well, I bet they do now, Derek. Especially today and …”
The radio voices seemed to trail off as the professor snapped out from the heavy blanket of stress. She still clung to the picture of her son that she had displayed proudly in her office so long before he had become just a little bit famous on campus and throughout the region.
“What am I doing here?” she asked herself aloud in disgust.
She gathered her winter clothes and hustled toward the building’s exit, hugging the coat, mittens, and hat still in her arms. She didn’t put them on until after she located her ticket stub in her mess of a purse. Her feet moved much more quickly during this trek to the stadium. By the time she finally climbed her way back up to her seat next to her husband, she was out of breath.
“I guess I’m not going to win Mother of the Year this go ’round.”
“You came back,” he replied, even though his eyes remained fixated on the field. “She came back!”
He looked sweaty from cheering. Four stacked, empty beer cups tipped over onto the couples’ toes as a fan seated behind them handed him a full one. She thought her husband never looked more handsome.
“JP scored both the touchdowns that are on the board,” he said with eyes still fixed on the game. “You just missed one. We’re winning, Mum. We’re winning!”
“I was wrong to leave!” she screamed toward her husband’s ear. “It’s easy to admit that now that the fans are cheering for my son instead of against him. Win or lose, I should be here.” She kissed his sweaty cheek.
“Go JP!” the man screamed. “That is my boy! That is my boy getting the first down!”
It was the type of comment that the loving father had apparently yelled a few times already, as he began sl
apping fives with the fans below, beside, and above him in a choreographed, clockwise motion.
“And this is his mother!” he shouted, raising his wife’s arm jubilantly.
The woman looked around the massive stadium and felt a few gentle pats brush across her shoulders as though she were suddenly a celebrity. She calmly watched JP run in his third touchdown. She smiled, feeling ashamed that she got to witness only one.
With the game clinched, she watched her son’s body language finally loosen. She saw his teammates slam into him a little too hard before lifting him up like a ragdoll.
Down on the sidelines, another woman was watching him too and attempting to come up with words that could possibly capture the unlikely turn of events for a photo caption. The delicate International Presswire photographer got jostled a bit as she reached for a notepad in her breast pocket next to a press pass labeled “Maxine.” As her competitors snapped away, Maxine hustled to ask Coach Flash a question before jotting down the words magical and hat trick.
CHAPTER 22
DEVIN
The Gifted One
A couple of weeks and University of Boston football wins after her first date with Devin, Caroline sat on an old, pilled plaid couch in his apartment with her cheerleading uniform folded neatly in a duffle at her feet. She nervously peered around a suit and a small row of immaculate jerseys with the number four on the backs hanging neatly from a horizontal brass bar of a floor lamp. She attempted to find out which students were bounding their way up her boyfriend’s stairs now. Devin’s apartment entrance was a revolving door of guys and girls who wanted to feel like they belonged with the most sought-after guy on campus—maybe even the most popular guy in the city of Boston. The Falcons’ star quarterback had an ever-changing entourage.
This particular group of student bachelors spoke—as guys in Devin’s apartment often did—about their latest female conquests.
“You had to see her, Dev,” boasted one. “Smokin’ hot.”
Caroline’s hair matched an orange stripe in the outdated sofa. The couch was perhaps the only place in the world where she seemed invisible.
“Hi,” she said to the guys despite knowing they would not end up answering her back.
Devin looked at her and gave her a wink. He thought it would be just enough to keep her from walking out. He watched her pick up her locket from her chest.
“So I’ve got a group of friends ready to see me, Dev, who you gotta meet,” said someone.
Devin cautiously wanted to hear more.
“Oh yeah? What are their names?”
“Andrea, uh, Andre, Stephanio, and Emilio.”
Devin winced at his friend’s inability to realize that Caroline was smarter than all the others who had sat in that seat before her. He watched her drop the locket onto her chest and gather the winter coat he had forgotten to help her hang up. The room fell silent and the air felt tense.
“Well then, what am I doing here?” Caroline finally asked.
The guys exchanged looks that would’ve said “Crap” if they had spoken out loud, while Devin leaped to her side and walked her to the door.
“Let me drive my princess home.”
“I can manage,” Caroline said without breaking step. “I’m pretty resourceful, actually. I’m pretty happy getting by on my own.”
Devin couldn’t help but laugh. In dating, on the football field, and even in life, Caroline was his only challenge. He grabbed her arm and gave her his golden boy smile. She didn’t return one this time. She still looked more beautiful than any girl he’d seen.
“Oh c’mon, Caroline,” he whispered. “You know those guys are bumbling idiots. Do you seriously believe I’d listen to them? You wouldn’t break up with me on a day that I’ve been waiting for, like, only my whole life. You know what my itinerary is for today? Your man just so happens to have a date with the National Sports Network through a live feed at our stadium. Which bowl game announcement do you think it’s going to be? Orange Bowl? FedEx BCS National Championship?”
“I think either’d be an honor,” Caroline said in a tone that was somehow kind and cold at the same time.
Devin smiled.
“Do you want to meet my family, Caroline?”
“What?”
“When they come for the bowl game, do you want to meet them? I’d like them to meet you.”
“Um, I guess.”
“You guess?”
Caroline finally let a smile break through.
“Of course I would,” she said.
“Fine. And are you going to watch my interview on the network tonight? It’ll help my performance knowing that you are out there, somewhere, with me.”
Caroline nodded much more weakly. She knew that after the upcoming bowl game announcement rally on campus, she’d have to hustle off to her secret job at the Gentlemen’s Club, where she was bound to miss seeing Devin’s interview unless it was being played repeatedly on one of the club’s plasmas. As a backup, she would quietly ask her roommate to record the interview, she thought. Caroline knew the girl would probably be doing it anyway. She still had a crush on Caroline’s boyfriend, just like everyone else seemed to.
“See you at the rally,” Caroline said. “And then on TV.”
“See you at the rally, Caroline. You sure you don’t want to ride with me there?”
“I’m going to walk, thanks. I’m used to the cold.”
Devin leaned in for a quick kiss before running back up his apartment stairs, skipping every other step.
“So tell me about this Andrea, Stephanie, and Emily,” he said once he reached the top.
The guys erupted in laughter so loud that Devin wondered if Caroline could hear it from the other side of his front door. He hoped she wouldn’t think the joke was on her. He knew she was smart enough to figure it out.
“Keep it down, morons,” Devin snapped.
Devin slipped out of an ecstatic rally crowd of teammates and University of Boston Falcons fans into a black truck that was waiting to whisk him from the bowl announcement to the university’s public relations office. His mood didn’t match everyone else’s outside of the vehicle. He sulkily tipped his head back and tried to catch a three-minute nap before reaching the media training he was already dreading. Before his body could fully rest, the driver was already rousing him.
“Excuse me, young sir. We are here.”
“Great,” Devin replied sarcastically.
He gazed through the window to see a gray suit with a matching coat; in it was a man presumably there to hold Devin’s hand through the day’s media process. The man opened the quarterback’s door as though the quarterback were Prince Charles.
“Devin, I’m James O’Leary, the new director of public relations at the university,” the man said. “Congrats on your spot in the Orange Bowl. I guess it would be an understatement to say how excited and proud we all are.”
The man had a friendly face and a sincere tone. He was instantly likable and was obviously smart without being arrogant. None of that mattered to Devin. He would make this guy earn his money today, he thought.
“Fine,” said James. “Well, let’s get inside and get straight to work. You’re a busy man.”
Their walk inside the office building included no conversation. James knew not to force it another direction.
“Please have a seat,” the man said once they reached his press office. “Can I get you something to drink—coffee, water, a celebratory bottle of champagne?”
“Champagne.”
“That one was just a joke,” James said.
“I know.”
“OK, then, let’s just get started. We’re here to make today’s media interview run as smoothly as possible for you. I want to make sure that in the end, you feel like there were no curveballs thrown at you. I want to make sure you aren’t left thinking, ‘I wish I said this or that.’ We need to come up with one crisp message. Would some role-playing be helpful to you?”
“Whatever
, man,” Devin said. “Let’s just get through this.”
“OK. So let’s pretend I’m NSN’s Roger So-And-So or one of the station’s esteemed college football experts on tonight’s panel.”
“You mean one of their has-been players?”
“NSN hasn’t let us know which member of their team will be interviewing you yet from their studio. So here we go. Let’s role-play. Congrats, Devin Madison, to you and the University of Boston Falcons for securing a trip to the Orange Bowl. How did it feel when you heard the news today?”
“Just ducky.”
“Interesting choice of words, Devin. Let’s continue with a little more seriousness if you can. How about this tougher one? The Orange Bowl is prestigious, but do you think the polls got it right? I mean, your team is undefeated while Texas A&M and Miami are going to the FedEx National Championship Game with a loss each. This is a happy day for the Falcons, but is it bittersweet in any way, to come up just short of a trip to the FedEx?”
Devin’s cheeks flushed a little.
James realized he had stumbled upon the source of Devin’s sour mood.
“Listen, Devin. You’re going to be asked this question. Things could’ve gone either way. Let’s just plan to make sure your answer gives credit to just how successful your team has been—how successful you have been—without coming across the least bit bitter.”
“I think I’ll say that the polls are jokes.”
“Devin. I’m clear on the fact that there are other places you would like to be than my office. This may be one of my first days on the job at the college, but it’s far from my first press interview. I’ve probably done a thousand. I know that you know better. I’ve done my research and watched some very successful interviews with you. I know you are playing with me, but I’m just tryin’ to do my job. Listen, when you are asked this question, you can answer that your selection as the ACC Champion is a great recognition of your team’s hard work and success this season, and that you are looking forward to the Orange Bowl, where two of the top teams in the nation are scheduled to face off. Something along those lines. Make sense?”
