I’ll see you at the game – I text my parents. I’m forever grateful that they gave up their retirement to come live near me. I don’t know what I’d do without them. More so, since they’ve become my go-to for babysitting, especially during overnights and away games. Sure, the kids have Miss Meghan, but she’s young and deserves a life as well.
I finally allow myself to look at Autumn’s text. It’s one line: I should be able to make it by half-time. I open the message to reply and am saddened when I see that’s the only thing she sent. I don’t know what I was expecting, especially since I didn’t text her after leaving last night. I wanted to, and I thought about it a lot. I wanted her to send me a flirty message like before. I suppose if I wanted something like that, I could’ve initiated it. I respond with: I’ll leave the ticket at Will Call. I hope you had a good night with Peyton. I’ll ask her to make sure you have a press pass. I’m excited Autumn will be at the game, albeit slightly nervous. The last time she was there, I laid a giant egg on the field and played the worst game of my life. Of course, in my infinite wisdom, I blamed her. Everything from the moment I met Autumn was her fault. It was easy to blame her than myself and the shit that’s going on with Elena and my joke of a marriage.
My alarm sounds again. It’s time to get moving. I take my phone into the bathroom and turn on the self-help podcast I found. For some reason, listening to people talk about their problems and how they’ve solved them is soothing. It shows that I’m not such a fuck up. When the temperature is decent, I step in and let the water run down my back. It won’t be until later, when I’m at the stadium or home, that I'll get a powerful spray that I need to loosen up my muscles. These hotels aren’t designed to help us athletes ease our aches and pains.
After dressing in sweats, I make my way down to the conference room where breakfast is. This is the most essential part of my day, and the only time I’ll eat until dinner tonight. Once I get to the field, the last thing on my mind is food. Water and Gatorade are all I’ll have later. Right now is my only chance to add all the necessary fuel to my body so I can outperform everyone determined to bring me down today.
Noah raises his hand when he sees me. I nod, signaling I’ll be over after I make my way through the buffet line. Thankfully, the hotel provides staff to help us carry our plates to the table. Because us football players see a buffet and it’s game on. It’s a challenge to see how many plates we can fill on our first trip through.
The unlucky employee who helps carry my food follows me to where Noah is sitting. Players usually sit wherever they want. Sometimes the coaches want to have impromptu meetings while eating breakfast and will beckon a player over, and sometimes this is just like the cafeteria. Breakfast can totally turn into a popularity contest. You can fully expect a rookie receiver or running back to try and sit with Noah to plead their case that they need the ball when they’re in there. Unless they’re a first or second-round pick, these rookies are likely filling in for a down to give people like me a break.
I sit down across from Noah, who moves a couple of the empty plates he has in front of him to give the hotel employee more room to set my copious amounts of food down. Noah looks at me and then down at the table and back at me. He grimaces and then laughs. “Are you seriously going to eat all of this?” he picks a piece of bacon off one of the plates and sticks it in his mouth.
I shrug. “Maybe. I don’t want to have to get back in line with the defensive backs.”
Noah nods in agreement. “You ready for today?”
It’s a question Noah asks most of us on game day. He’s trying to get a feel for where his teammates heads are before we get onto the field. It’s his job to lead us, but we won’t be in sync on the field if we're not on the same page.
“I am. I feel good. Slept like shit though.”
“I rarely sleep well the night before a game. I hate hotel beds, and I hate being away from Peyton, especially when I know she’s at home. At least she’s not by herself.”
“Parents in town?”