He’s not a liar.
For the first time since this whole debacle occurred, I’m believing that staying under the radar may have initially been for his benefit but was good for mine as well.
Would I have even talked to him if I had known he was this larger-than-life sports celebrity? I don’t think so. And I think he knew it too.
I look up toward the ceiling and crack a smile at God.
This was pretty obvious, even for you.
I asked for a sign and I got it.
I guess I better do something about it.
Thirty-Four
JETT
It’sthe Thanksgiving Day game and we’re in Texas playing another one of our division rivals, Dallas. Although I’m several hours away from “home” I’m glad to be back in my home state where the air smells sweeter and familiar. There’s always a bit of truth to the slogans that advertisers come up with. Everything is bigger and better in Texas.
I’m starting to understand what Coach T meant by not enjoying this stage of my recovery. My shoulder feels so much better than it has in weeks that I feel like with a little physical therapy I could definitely handle a few snaps. Of course, that’s not how football works. You go with your quarterback for the whole game until you can’t and right now that man is Rivera.
He hasn’t been perfect this season, but he’s been good enough to get us to this point with a good record. We have a fighting chance of getting a playoff spot, and winning this game would go a long way in getting us there.
There’s a ferocity in the air as we jog into the bright lights of the 1.2 billion dollar stadium. I grab a headset so I’m able to communicate with the coaching staff and continue to familiarize myself with the game plays for the day. It’s my job to watch the game and help Rivera make any adjustments if he needs to.
There are a few mild cheers as the offense gets started on our first play of the day. It’s nice to see a few New Yorkers in the stands cheering us on. Our offense doesn’t make it down to the red zone, but that’s okay, they probably just need a little time to warm up and get their juices flowing.
By the third play, Rivera spots an opening and throws the ball to Gibson. It wasn’t one of the planned offensive plays of the day, but that’s the beauty of being a quarterback, it’s our job to manage the game and change plays or make different plays if we see them. But Gibson doesn’t see what Rivera is doing in time and runs completely the other way, and the football runs straight into the hands of the opposition.
It’s an interception.
The guy runs the ball completely down the side of the field like his ass is on fire and no one can catch him.
It’s a touchdown.
Their first of the day.
And it lights a fire under them.
The volume of the stadium increases by at least ten decibels and there’s an energy in the air which blossoms that only a football player can understand. It’s so thick that you could almost touch and squeeze it, but unfortunately it’s in our opponent’s favor.
Rivera walks back over to the bench and sits by me quietly while our defense takes the field. He’s frustrated with the game so far, but mostly with himself.
Gibson walks over to where we’re seated, totally furious.
“Are you blind? I was nowhere over there.” He says to Rivera.
“You were supposed to cut left. Didn’t you see what I was doing?” He defends himself.
“That wasn’t even the play we were running.”
“Whatever, man, let’s just keep our heads in the game.”
“No, you need to get your head into the game. I don’t know what you’re doing out there, but it ain’t prime time football.”
Tensions are high and a loss in Dallas would be denigrating for the city of New York, but I’ve never seen a player talk to Rivera like this. He’s played long enough that he’s owed a certain amount of respect and Gibson is stepping over the line, but I stay out of it. It’s not my fight.
Rivera stands up and holds his ground, continuing to argue with Gibson. He refuses to take the blame for their miscommunication.
