“Yeah,” I admit.
“Let’s run through the drills for the showcase, and then we’ll focus on some fundamentals. The skills test scores matter, but they’ll be making decisions based on game-time performance.”
I nod my agreement, and that familiar push of excitement thrums through me. It’s a reminder of what I’m working toward and what it’s going to take. And Dad, for all his faults, is here with me, pushing me to be better.
I steal a glance toward the football field. I can still easily pick out Lacey among the other cheerleaders, even though she’s no longer in the front. Her hands are raised over her head, and she moves with a grace and ease.
I’m still staring at her when Dad elbows me.
“You ready?” he asks.
* * *
Long after the football team and the cheerleaders have finished for the day, Dad and I are still on the field.
“Again!” he yells, hands on his hips as he stands five feet away watching me move around cones down the field. “You’re sloppy. Where’s your head at?”
I weave through the last cone and come to a stop infront of him. “Maybe if you stopped screaming at me, I could concentrate.”
I rarely yell back at my dad, so it catches him off guard. A flash of irritation crosses his face and then smooths out. “All right. Let’s take five.”
I bring the hem of my shirt up to wipe my face as I catch my breath.
“I wanted to talk to you about something,” Dad says while I’m still fuming at him and life and maybe a little at myself. Okay, a lot at myself.
I look to him to continue.
“The documentary is almost done. They should have all they need by early next week.”
“That’s great,” I say. We’ll finally have a TV and a couch that fits someone taller than four feet.
“Yes.” By the hesitant way he says the word, I gather there’s more.
When I don’t fill the silence, he finally adds, “They asked again if you’d like to be a part of it.”
“Me?”
“Most of the guys’ families were also interviewed, but I told Rick originally that I did not want them to bother you.”
“So why are you asking me now?”
“I’m not asking.”
“Then what the hell are you doing?”
Dad cuts me a look that tells me I’m close to being grounded. Not like I have anywhere to go anyway. Home, school, soccer.
“I am giving you the option. I talked to your mom, and she agreed you should choose.”
Him talking to Mom about me participating in thedocumentary is almost as surprising as this entire conversation. I mean, I know they check in with each other periodically, but I assumed he rarely ran real parenting decisions by her anymore. She kind of checked out of that responsibility when she moved across an ocean.
“I don’t understand. You didn’t even want to do this documentary, and now you want me to consider letting them interview me?”
His jaw flexes, and his mouth presses into a firm line before he speaks. “It could give you more exposure. I hate to give the media that much credit, but times are different now than they were for me.”
I never even considered the documentary as a way to launch my career. But if I had, this isn’t the first, or even the second, option I would have come up with. I’ve spent my whole life being compared to my dad. I’m proud of what he accomplished. In awe of it even. But I want to make my own way.
“That’s it? That’s the only reason?”
