“I know it’s just a trophy. But yeah, it’s pretty cool.”
“Can I hold it for a second?” I ask him.
When he hands the trophy to me, I’m amazed by how enormous it is. “Wow. This thing’s freaking heavy, Dylan.”
Of course I can hold the trophy up, but it certainly doesn’t feel light and airy like I’d imagined when I’ve seen players hoist their trophies on television.
“I don’t know where the heck I’m going to put it. It’s been in a box ever since we won.”
“You could display it in your living room,” I say. “Although maybe that’s not safe. Sometimes people steal those things, don’t they?”
“Yeah, I never understood that,” he says. “It has my name on it. Why would somebody want to take something that doesn’t belong to them?”
* * *
I love the mountains in Montana. I love the stillness and the big sky even more. L.A. is so crowded most of the time. Dylan says he misses that part of where he grew up, too.
“I’d like to have a second home eventually,” he says. “Around here somewhere.”
And I’d like to live here with you.
Dylan’s eyes flick to mine like he knows exactly what I’m thinking, and he smiles.
* * *
Our visit with Uncle Irv is short and relatively sweet. He’s a grouchy man and doesn’t seem to like me much, so I take a seat by the window while Dylan sits in the chair next to the bed and talks about the championship game. As much as I try to act like I’m not listening, I’m actually hanging on every word.
“What was it like?” Uncle Irv asks breathlessly.
Some of the breathlessness is because he’s on oxygen, but I can tell the rest is excitement. He’s lying flat and looking up at Dylan.
“It was incredible,” Dylan tells him. “The greatest high.”
Uncle Irv seems to like that answer. They sit in silence for a moment until he asks Dylan, “It looked like a warm day. Was it warm?”
“Mid-sixties,” Dylan says. “It was sunny and clear. Perfect playing weather.”
“The sportscasters said the same thing,” Irv agrees. “Said it was great throwing weather.”
“True. Hardly a breeze, actually. I should thank the weather gods.”
Irv chuckles and then goes into a coughing fit. I look over at Dylan nervously, but a nurse comes in and settles Irv down. “Let’s prop up the pillows. Make it easier for you to talk to your famous nephew.”
When she leaves, Irv says, “I miss playing you know.”
“I know.” Sadness passes through Dylan’s eyes. “But at least you know what it felt like.”
“Oh, I remember those days,” Irv says. “I was no good, mind you. Not a star like you are. I was backup receiver to my cousin. But I loved being out there on the grass with the sun shining, the fans in the stands. The whole thing was…” He pauses to breathe. “Euphoric.”
“Yes,” Dylan says immediately. “Exactly.”
Irv looks over in my direction now. “Was she in the stands?”
Dylan smiles at me. “I didn’t know Jasalie then. We met just after.”
Irv says, “And the feeling?”
Dylan answers easily as he looks right at me. “Euphoric.”
