Page 60 of Catching Our Moment
Aaron’s assuredness halted just short of the camera shot.
“Hey, my man. What’s up?” I said over my shoulder as if we were just sitting at a booth in a restaurant.
Aaron hesitated, staring at TJ and the equipment, and rethinking his action, confidence leeched from his face. “You’re wrong.”
“What’s that?” I asked Aaron. “Come closer to the mic so he can hear you better.” I motioned him forward with my hand, making sure not to touch him.
“He’s wrong,” Aaron repeated. “Tell him.” He stared at his hands as he fidgeted with his fingers. “Tell him he’s wrong. That’s not what happened. It was the Denver game, and you ran forty-seven yards.” As Aaron spoke, I slowly maneuvered the microphone between us.
“Perry snaps the ball—” Aaron gave the play-by-play as if it was being read back by the announcer, just like he had the night we watched the game together.
TJ leaned back in his chair, crossed his leg over his knee, twirling a pen between his two hands, sliding it back and forth while listening to a teenager school him.
Once Aaron stopped giving his dissertation as to all the reasons TJ was incorrect, he turned off his commentary and sat still with his hands clasped in front of him, chin down. I nudged him and whispered, “Good job.” He glanced at me, and I winked.
TJ blinked multiple times. “What do you think was the best play of Shaw’s career?”
“Dallas, last year, third quarter, second and five. Perry dropped back in the pocket, couldn’t find Miller, Shaw ran a slant and broke the coverage, with a catch and run got a 43-yard touchdown,” Aaron answered.
“What was the best play of my career?”
Aaron proceeded to stroke TJ’s ego with a verbal highlight reel of his career, even giving statistics and comparisons that had TJ leaning back in his seat and crossing a leg over his knee.
“You seem to know a lot about football.”
“Yep.”
“Can you tell me the scores from last weekend’s games?”
“That’s too easy. You can look those up online. Ask me something harder.”
“Las Vegas versus New England 2018?”
Aaron shot off. “That’s easy?—”
TJ lifted a hand and said, “At halftime.”
Aaron lifted an eyebrow and one side of his mouth. “10-3 at the half and 20-6 final Las Vegas.” His eyes lit up, and he inched up in his seat. “Ask me more.”
TJ rubbed his hand over his chin, “Carolina versus Dallas, 2020 Wild Card game, 2:20 left in the half, 3rd and two?—"
Aaron took a moment, looked up at the ceiling, fidgeted with his fingers, and said, “Chris Tresor ran a bootleg for a touchdown.”
TJ tried again. “Carolina versus San Diego 2019 season opener 3rd quarter, following a punt return?—”
“Jamar Frankis runs a jet sweep 54 yards for a touchdown.” Aaron shifted on his feet, quicker and more confident this time. He turned to me, and his eyes were smiling. “This is fun.”
“Is he right?” I asked TJ because I had no idea—but I thought he was.
TJ shrugged. “No idea. It’s your damn team, man.” And we both started chuckling.
“You’re gold,” he said to Aaron, leaning back and running his hand over his head. “You are blowing my mind.” His eyes grew big and then narrowed as he studied Aaron. “You’re how old?”
“Twelve.” Aaron glanced at me for reassurance, and I reached out a hand to place gently on his back, coaxing him closer.
TJ’s shoulders shook with amusement. “We’re about to have some fun…”
Aaron, TJ, and I sat for an hour, talking shop. Actually, Aaron and TJ shot back and forth. I just sat and watched, occasionally inserting my two cents.
