Page 35 of Fair Catch
We lost, and it was all my fault.
I should have heeded the warning my teammate tried to give me, because in the next instant, a camera was in my face along with a woman smiling too brightly for my taste as she tried to get my first reaction on the muffed kick.
I swallowed, blinking, trying to remember what they taught us in media training.
Say something. Say it was a hard-fought game and you’re proud of your team. Say you’re disappointed in your performance but know it was just a bad game and you’ll get the next kick. Say… anything.
But I couldn’t.
I knew my face was white as a ghost as I declined to comment and jogged off the field, maneuvering between my teammates and somehow managing to shake hands with a few members of the opposing team before I finally ducked inside the locker room.
No one looked at me as they joined me one by one, not until Holden jogged in and stopped right in front of me. “Hey, it’s not your fault. Okay? We all could have played better.”
“Speak for yourself,” Kyle muttered.
Holden didn’t have to raise his voice when he turned on Kyle and said, “I’ll speak for all of us, since I’m the captain. And if I recall correctly, you missed not one, but two receptions when the ball was well in range. The last time it hit you in the chest, for Christ’s sake, and could have made the difference in that last drive before OT.”
Kyle clamped his mouth shut, but he didn’t eye me with any less disdain as he sulked off to his locker and threw his helmet so hard it made me shutter at the sound of it hitting the metal.
“We win as a team, we lose as a team,” Holden said loud enough for everyone to hear. “This isn’t one person’s fault. If you’re thinking that, I challenge you to reflect on your own game tonight and try to tell me you played perfectly.”
No one argued, the locker room quiet save for the sound of cleats on the tile and helmets hitting metal and jerseys being peeled off.
Coach Sanders came in next, sniffing as he stood at the center of the locker room and thought of what to say. Holden gave me a sympathetic smile, squeezing my shoulder one last time before he left me alone.
But he couldn’t make me feel any less like a failure.
No one could.
We lost.
We lost, and it was all because of me.
Zeke
“Tough loss, son,” Dad said, tucking me under his arm for a brief half-hug before I was swallowed up in a crushing one by Mom.
“But you had a killer return in the second!” She pulled back, sticking her tongue out as she punched the air this way and that like she was Ali. “Juked ’em every time. They couldn’t catch you!”
I smiled, dropping my bag at my feet. “Thanks, Mom.”
Dad pulled out his phone, texting someone about something — my guess was it was work related, since the man didn’t know how not to work. If they allowed laptops in the stadium, he likely would have had his perched on his lap, sending emails in-between plays.
I admired that in so many ways, his work ethic — Mom’s, too. They both knew that it took time, dedication, and persistence to make something happen. They’d instilled that in me from the time I could understand English.
But when you had two seemingly perfect parents who had higher than high standards for what they expected out of you, it was tough to face them after a loss.
“What happened with Riley?” Dad asked, tucking his phone away and meeting my gaze again. His eyes were the same as mine, and I saw more and more every day how much I favored him. I had his nose, his body-build, even the shape of his jaw — especially as I matured.
But I had Mom’s smile, and I loved that maybe the most.
“She had a rough game,” I answered, glancing in the direction of the athletic dorms like I could see through trees and buildings and into her room. I knew she was there, likely sulking or beating herself up for something that happens to all of us.
“I’ll say. Cracked like a fragile little egg out there, didn’t she?” He shook his head. “Unacceptable. My bet is Coach will be benching her. At least, he should be.”
I gaped. “Dad.”
“What? She’s in college now. This isn’t some cute high school stunt for a girl trying to pay homage to her brother. Her failures have real consequences here.”
My jaw still hung open, though I shouldn’t have been surprised. If it were me who made what he believed to be the game-losing mistake, things would be a lot uglier right now.
“She didn’t fail, Ken,” Mom said, giving Dad a look that said more than her words — one I translated to be nice. “And I’m sure she’s punishing herself enough for everyone.”
