My job as a sideline reporter is something I take a lot of pride in. I’ve worked really hard to get where I am—harder than most. But I still have goals I’m trying to achieve and people I’m trying to prove wrong. Women are important in sports, and I only hope that my presence can somehow inspire others.
Teenage Demi would be screaming if she knew this was her life. Traveling to amazing cities, reporting on a sport I truly love, attending award shows and community events—this career is everything I used to dream of, more even.
I can still recall the first interview I did in high school with the running back during my sophomore year. I stumbled over words at the start, but about halfway through something clicked and it was as if everything in me—in my bones, in my soul—knew I wanted to do this,hadto do this. And I’ve been tangled up in this world ever since.
Women belong in this space, and I’m not going to stop pushing for that.
While professionally I’m flourishing, my personal life has been an up-and-down roller coaster for the last year and a half.
I flow through days where I’m happy and so proud of myself, but then there are days where I feel that hurt all over again. That stinging feeling of failure. But as much disappointment as I ultimately felt when I drove away from the person I thought I’d grow old with, there was also a push of confidence. A swell of something within me whispering,you’re doing the right thing.
Two things can be true. And two feelings can coexist. It’s okay to be sad about something ending, while knowing it’s the right decision. The best thing I ever did for myself was leave that marriage, even if I stumbled a little on the way out.
Sun gleams through the windows of this hotel building next to the Knights facility. Floor-to-ceiling glass overlooking the bay as light glistens on the water, and I get lost in thought staring at it.
“Demi, Ford’s on his way in.”
Greg’s words bring me back to the present, and I tuck my loose curls behind my ear as I close the notebook on my lap. When I do, I get a quick glimpse of my fingers, noticing the naked one on my left hand. I’m still getting used to it being bare after wearing a ring for so many years. But there’s no time to feel anything or let my mind wander as Ford Anderson strides into the room.
His big, bright smile lights up the room the second he steps through the door, and I watch as he says hello to every single person on his way to me. Ford’s tall and lean, but full of muscle. As a tight end, he’s not as slender as a wide receiver, but still has an incredible athletic build.
I haven’t spoken with him since last season ended, and it’s obvious as he comes to give me a hug hello that he wants to say something about my divorce. I can see in his eyes that he’s silently telling me he’s sorry.
Although, he doesn’t need to tell me he’s sorry. One man can’t possibly carry the burden of apologizing on behalf of the entire male species being crap. Present company excluded. Anderson’s a great guy.
Ford’s sigh carries across the space between us as we both take a seat just feet apart in these dark brown leather chairs. His denim-clad legs extend in front of him coupled with his black T-shirt that showcases the sleeve of tattoos. It looks like they’ve grown to start covering his hand now too.
“Long time no chat,” I begin.
“It has been a long time.”
I want to jump right into the conversation, there’s always so much to discuss with these guys and no use in wasting time with any small talk. Nodding at Greg again, I let him give us the go ahead on cameras and we get started.
“Another season on the horizon. How are we feeling? The last time we spoke, you were coming off a really great year. Seems pretty routine for you, though. I feel like every time we turn around, there’s someone talking about Ford Anderson.”
“I’m excited every season. Even if we ended on the losing side of things. I’m always going to walk back into this building with my head high and just ready to go.”
“The fans down here love you and that’s probably a big reason why. I think it’s so obvious to this city how muchyoulovethe game and the whole spirit of football. Let’s run through that final game of the season last year. Where was your head at when you decided to make that impressive hurdle over the defender? We don’t see that often from six-foot-four tight ends.”
Ford drops his head back with a laugh and runs a hand through his hair.
“Oh man, Coach Aarons did not love me doing that. Neither did my wife. Might be a first and a last, but I just…I saw the safety coming toward me and had the split-second thought of maybe I can clear him, so I jumped. Thankfully, it worked out.”
I chuckle as I nod. It was impressive, that’s for sure. “You didn’t have the ending you were expecting, but still closed the season at ten and seven last year. Not a bad record, but not the best you guys have seen. What’s the thought process going into this year?”
“Win.” His chuckle vibrates. “We want to win. I feel like I’m still playing good ball, a lot of the guys are. Plus, we’ve got a strong group of new players coming in and they’re hungry too. Which is always good. All in all, I love playing and being out there with my teammates, and I’m going to have a good time regardless, but the goal is to win.”
Ford is a leader, it’s very easy to see why so many of the young guys look up to him.
I’ve been covering the Knights for years now in some capacity, whether that’s been player interviews, in-game reporting or speaking at foundations and charities they are a part of. They’re a good team, a fun one. They’re incredibly close off the field, and I think that translates to their in-game chemistry.
“Speaking of teammates, you’ve played your entire career with the same core group of offensive players. Which in itself is unheard of and honestly, really impressive.” He nods. “I know Graham Turner just announced his retirement. What’s he goingto do now that he’s not blocking the line for you guys?” I smile, crossing my right leg over my knee.
Ford rubs his hands together in front of him. “Oh man, Turner’s about to go back to the farm.” He laughs as he lowers his voice a bit. “Graham’s great. I’ve loved playing with him, and I know he really took this decision seriously. He’s done a lot for us, so now he deserves some time to relax and hang out with the goats he always shows us pictures of.”
My face twists in confusion, but I laugh at his statement. “Graham has goats?”
“Graham has goats,” he echoes.
