Page 204 of The Surprise Play
“Austin,” he murmurs to his wife before taking the call. “Hey, buddy… Yeah, I’m with him now.” His eyes dart to his son, and he looks agonized. “Not great. There’s been a delay on his surgery…” He winces but then starts nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.” Closing his eyes, he pinches the bridge of his nose. “It’s not over. We just need to figure out a new game plan…” He nods again. “Do you want to speak to him?”
Wily shakes his head, holding up his hand and refusing the phone when Mr. Wilson holds it out to him.
“Come on, son.”
“No.” Wily’s voice is weak, but the expression on his face leaves no room for argument.
After a short sigh, Mr. Wilson wraps up the conversation, promising to call back with updates and their next move forward.
I wonder who he was talking to. Mrs. Wilson seems unfazed by the call. She hasn’t taken her eyes off Wily since she stepped in here. She’s now stroking his arm and looking just as devastated as his father.
Maybe that man was Wily’s agent. I’m sure he’d have something to say about all this.
Wily told me the guy is really close to his father.
I hold my breath, watching Mr. Wilson as he starts talking. His voice is deep, more serious, gruffer than Wily’s, and I can’t help another instinctual step back.
“It’ll be all right, son. We’ve still got options. You won’t be a Top Ten pick for the draft anymore. Austin’s guess is that you’ve dropped down to around the forty to fifty mark.” He sighs, resting his hands on the bar at the end of hospital bed. “Team’s still take on injured athletes if they’ve shown great potential, which you most definitely have. This isn’t the end of the world, although you’re worth more than a shitty contract.” Mr. Wilson shakes his head, his mind clearly racing as he tries to problem-solve his way out of this disaster. “Let’s not entertain the free agent option until we know for sure what your recovery time is going to be.” Pinging straight, he starts looking around, and I shift to hide myself behind Mrs. Wilson. “Is there a doctor around anywhere? I need to speak with one. If we can get a time frame, we’ll be able to sort out a plan moving forward.”
With a delicate sniff, Mrs. Wilson ignores her husband, brushing her hand over Wily’s cheek, her disappointment raw and overpowering.
Wily shakes his head, still not able to say anything, and I want to tell them all that it’s going to be okay.
Why are they bombarding him with stupid game plans?
Why aren’t they telling him they love him?
Why aren’t they hugging him? Supporting him?
“When did you see the doctor?” his father asks.
Wily replies in a croaky voice, telling him what he knows, which doesn’t feel like much, to be honest.
There’s so much worry swirling around them, like this torn ACL is the most devastating thing that could happen to their son. But I want to shout that he’s still alive! That it’s a knee injury, not cancer!
“It’s going to be okay.” Mr. Wilson nods, still running a hand over the back of his head like he’s trying to comfort himself. Stress is emanating from him in waves. It’s impossible not to feel it. “I’ll get in touch with the Scouting Combine people. Explain the situation. We’ll find a way around this.”
“It’s not gonna happen this year, Dad.” Wily’s voice is cold. Stony.
“No, don’t talk like that. We’ll get you back on your feet. I’m gonna get you the best medical care. We’ll talk to any experts we have to. There are options. Austin’s already told me about a private training camp we can get you into. It means?—”
“Dad, just…” Wily raises his hand to slow the guy down.
“This can’t be over, son.” His father’s voice cracks. “You’ve worked too hard. I won’t let you give up on your dream.”
Wily sighs, shaking his head.
Wow. He really thinks he’s done. Is that just shock talking? Where’s my“I can conquer the world”man gone?
I step forward, ready to reach for his hand and assure him that he’s not even close to being done. We can work through this. He’s got his whole life ahead of him, and I’ll help him become whatever he wants to be.
“Excuse me,” his mother snaps when she senses my movements. Her blue eyes land on mine, surprise quickly morphing to sharp annoyance. “This is a private family matter. Who are you?”
“Oh, I…” Forcing a smile, I reach out a hand to introduce myself. “I’m Elizabeth. I’m Wily’s?—”
“Tutor,” he interjects. “This is the girl who’s been helping me. She’s the reason I’ll be able to graduate.”
I glance at him, but he won’t look at me. His jaw clenches, and he keeps his eyes trained on his knee.
