Page 70 of It's Always Sonny

Bulldog’s morning show is the biggest sports talk program in the country, but he’s also become a friend and mentor over the years. I even filled in for him last summer for a few weeks while he and his family took an extended vacation, and it was as fun as winning any game. Because their show is Carolina-based and I played for Clemson, I’ve had a standing call with them every Thursday for years from the beginning of August to the end of February—from preseason to shortly after the Super Bowl.

It’s huge. It’s also my favorite part of the week.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world—except for the other week. Sorry again about that.”

“No apologies necessary. Ratings took a hit when people realized there was no Sunshine, so I’ll probably have to sell a car to pay for my kid’s braces, but—”

“Ouch.” I laugh. “Do you feel good lying like that? If you can’t afford your kid’s braces, maybe you should stop encrusting them with diamonds.”

Buster laughs. He retired from the league in his early thirties. He was a fullback, and he had another few seasons in him, but he said he’d put off having kids for too long and he wanted to enjoy what was left of his youth. It was a shock to a lot of people. Fans, especially, took it hard. He was an institution in the South. Heck, in the league. But he got into broadcasting after a couple of years, and now, he’s an even bigger institution. More importantly to him, he’s been able to have a family—six kids!—and watch them grow.

“Between us, how’s the knee feeling?”

“Off the record?” I ask.

“Always. You know that.”

I do know that. Buster is good people. “It’s a sprain. So minor, if it were anyone else, the world would have moved on by now.”

“Glad to hear it. How are you feeling?”

“I’m doing all the right exercises, getting all the right injections,” I say. But I keep going, even though he doesn’t need to know any of this. “I probably should be more cautious, but I’m at a family reunion, and it’s hard to care about being too careful with my knee when I want to keep up with everyone.”

As if to punctuate the point, Sienna and Chris score on Anthony and Amber, and half of the family cheers loudly.

“I can hear,” Buster says. Then he exhales. “You know, Sonny, there’s more to life than football.”

Why does my throat tighten to hear him say this? “That’s the truth,” I say.

“Next week, let’s have you in the studio instead of calling in,” he says. “I’ll take you to lunch after.”

“I’ll buy,” I say. “You gotta worry about those diamond-braces, after all.”

Buster barks that famous laugh that earned him his nickname. “Nah, I got money enough. I’m too old and too rich to care about chasing dollar signs.” He sighs, but it’s a sigh of contentment, not one of regret. “It’ll be good to see you in person,” he says.

“You too.”

I put my phone down and think about the two conversations—Michael versus Buster. Two ends of the football spectrum. And here I am, in the middle.

I hear a yelp and look up. Daniel’s kid, Harry, has dropped a paddle on his face and given himself a bloody nose. Except, Daniel isn’t around. Where is he? I head over to Harry.

“Hey, bud, you okay?” I ask. Harry’s eyes are watering, but he puts on a brave face. He’s at that in-between age where he wants to be a big kid but is also still young. Someone from the staff runs over as I’m telling him to lean forward and pinch the bridge of his nose.

She looks breathless, young, and starry-eyed. “I can help him, Mr. Luciano,” she says. She’s blushing, but she’s not gushing. I don’t mind fawning fans, but I appreciate that she knows now’s not the time.

“It’s okay. I’ll take him to his dad. Come here, pal,” I say, taking the tissues from the worker and holding Harry’s hand. Chris and Sienna ask if I need help, but I wave them off and take Harry in the golf cart to find Daniel.

If he’s talking to Parker, I may kill him.

And who in my family asked him to pretend he was interested in her? I’ll kill them while I’m at it.

“Keep leaning forward and pinching your nose, bud. We’ll find your dad.”

The grounds are huge, but I memorized the map Parker gave us on the first day. When you’ve lived in as many places as I have, you realize fast how important it is to know the lay of the land. I spot Lucianos everywhere—the pavilion for crafts, around the campfire, where Rusty is teaching the teens to whittle wood—but no Daniel. And poor Harry’s weeping silently into his cloth.

I call Daniel and he answers on the second ring. I fill him in on what happened.

“I had to take a call for work,” Daniel says, “so I’m just in my cabin. Can you drop him off with my mom and I’ll meet you there in a few?”

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