Page 1 of Scoring Truth
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JACKSON
“That’s my boy!” Dash is cheering and swinging a towel around his head, along with the thousands of others in the stadium.
“Leading the team is Jameson Winters!” The crowd erupts, and it's deafening. “A rookie here with the Warriors, he was drafted in his third year from North Pole University down in Candy Cane Key.” The announcers laugh as they realize the crowd’s noise level is overtaking their show.
“Listen to that crowd, though. They sure do love Jameson!”
“No shit, they love Jameson. He’s the best fucking QB to come through this team in years.” Dash is still on his feet, swinging that damn towel and yelling.
“Whoa! Easy there, Dash. It wasn’t that long ago that I was the starting quarterback for this team!”
“Jackson, please. You’re an old man now. Stop trying to relive your glory years through my son.”
“I could still school you.” I snicker at Dash. I love to get that guy going. The problem is, he’s so even-keeled now, so I don’t get the same reaction I used to from him. I’ll keep trying, though. Someone’s got to poke the bear. “Who do you think taught your kid how to play?”
Jameson was the star QB for the high school team I coached back home in Christmas, Texas. Watching him lead our team to State Championships twice was amazing. That kid really saved my ass, and I don’t think he ever knew it. He showed me what it meant to be from and stick with a small town. I wouldn’t have married my wife if he didn’t teach me a thing or two.
Dash scoffs at me. “I was throwing with him in the yard when he was four years old. Don’t start your bullshit.”
We settle in to watch the game. I’ve been making trips more frequently to see him play, especially when he’s here on his home field. It’s hard because I fly in and out on the same day, being that I have to be back for my own team, but I won’t miss these games for anything.
Throwing my arm around my wife, Francesca, I lean in and use her nickname, which I love. “Chessy, what do you think? In twenty years, can we see JJ playing here?”
She rolls her eyes at me. “Do not push my son to be a football maniac!”
“I don’t have to push him; it’s in his blood. He’s a Gage through and through, and with his momma in Public Relations, he’s all set!”
“Stop it. We will let him choose his own path. I’m busy running the PR withthisQB at the moment.”
Francesca owns LPR, Love Public Relations, and Jameson was her first client. He’s her only professionalclient, but she does a lot of college recruitment for my high school team. She was with the professionals when she worked for a different firm, prior to moving back home, but she didn’t like the cutthroat business. She’d rather focus on the younger kids, teach them how it's done, what to look out for, and stay away from, and prepare them for the big leagues.
Our other best friend, Mark, and his girlfriend Mackenzie are sitting behind us, and he pushes my shoulder. “I see who runs the show in that house! You should hit her with a little pick-up line or two; it’ll soften her right up.”
Without turning around, Francesca says, “Mark. I can hear you. Don’t teach my husband your playboy ways.”
We chuckle and tease Mark. This guy has all the smooth lines. And not so smooth lines. But somehow, he got the girl anyway.
“He’s got nothing to teach anymore, Chess. Don’t let him fool you.”
Smiling, I think to myself, Mackenzie runs the show in that house. We all know it.
The game ends, and Jameson gains another win under his belt. This team has a real chance this year. We’re still a couple of weeks too early to speak the S word, but when it happens, don’t say I didn’t call it. We all wait for him to come out of the press conference, and I’m the first one to grab him out of the tunnel.
“Jame!” Clapping him on the back, I say, “You’re amazing out there. Tell your father who you learned it from.”
In true Jameson fashion, he gives us a wide smile and shakes his head, remaining humble as ever. Dash snatches him fromme. “We’re going to have to revoke his season tickets. He causes too much drama in the stands.”
“Me? I wasn’t the one waving a towel around like a lunatic!” I mimic swinging a towel over my head, then do the dance to ‘Jump On It’. You know, the one by Sugar Hill Gang. Flashes start going off, and my wife pushes me.
“You’re going to be all over the rag mags tomorrow, you fool!”
“Come on, get in the car.” Mark ushers us to the Tahoe waiting to take us to dinner. The seven of us climb in. I watch as Jameson sits and lets out a breath. This poor kid is still not used to the fanfare of being an NFL Quarterback.
“We’ll talk shop later, Jameson, but I want you to know you’re doing outstanding in your press conferences. I know you’re still not totally confident up there, but it doesn’t show to anyone else but me.” Francesca's encouragement has really helped him come a long way. I don’t want to say Jameson is soft, but he’s definitely a small-town kid thrown into a wild world.
I know how he feels. I was that kid, only I grabbed hold of the wild and let it consume me. I know Dash was worried about that happening to Jameson, but all of us have kept him very grounded. He’s a good kid.
