Although things were heatingup for me at work, with the season starting to really get going, I still made time to take Wyndi to dinner. We went on a Monday night, since Tuesdays were typically the lightest days for Coyotes players. I wanted to discuss the scope of the date I was hoping to take her on. Honestly, it was a big expectation, considering that we didn’t know each other.
When we arrived at the table the restaurant’s hostess led us to, I pulled out her chair for her and waited until she was settled to take my seat on the opposite side. “Thanks for coming out tonight. It was a long ass day, so I won’t keep you out late. I just wanted us to talk about the date?—”
She interrupted me with a grin on her pretty face and amusement dancing in her brown eyes. “Oh, this isn’t the date?”
“Nah, this isn’t the date. This is having a meal together, where I let you know about the scope of the date so we can make some decisions.”
“Thescopeof the date? Say more, because this sounds serious.”
“Where’d you go to college?” I asked.
“Walker University. It’s in Indianapolis. Why?”
“That’s an HBCU, right?”
“Yeah.”
“You ever played golf, Brown Eyes?”
She eyed me suspiciously as she picked up her menu. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to answer a question with a question?”
I laughed. “She did. My bad.”
She eyed me some more. “I actually enjoy golf. Do these questions have anything to do with the date?”
“Calm down, killer.” I laughed. “They do.” I fingered my beard subconsciously. “I wanted to gauge your understanding of black college traditions before I dropped this on you. I went to Londynville University, and I’ve been named the grand marshal of the homecoming parade.”
She screeched, her excitement making me chuckle. “Congratulations! What does this mean?”
“This means that I wanna take you to homecoming weekend with me.” I held up my hand. “I know it’s a big ask. I mean, we don’t even know each other, and I’m talking about spending an entire weekend together. I just . . .” I hesitated momentarily. “I think it’ll be fun. I don’t think there’ll be a dull moment. And I really don’t want to go alone if I don’t have to.”
“Ugh, that’s a really public event. I know it’s gonna end up on social media. And with me being on social media with Preston not that long ago . . .” She let her thoughts trail off.
I waved my hand dismissively. “Baby, if that shit doesn’t bother you, trust me, it doesn’t bother me.”
“It kinda does bother me, though,” she admitted.
I nodded. “I get it.” And I did. “There’s a different judgment that happens to women.”
“Right?”
“Maybe you could wear dark glasses and a nondescript baseball cap . . . or a cowboy hat. That shit is all the rage. You’ll be on trend.”
She giggled. “Maybe. I know I shouldn’t let what other people think of me control my actions, but sometimes it’s hard. Especially when they might talk crap about me on social media.”
“It’s up to you, Brown Eyes. Think about it. Wheels up a week from Thursday.”
I finally picked up the menu. I didn’t eat out often, but the chef atKindred Soul Kitchenand I played football together in college. He’d hung up his cleats and discovered his passion for cooking. Whenever I fell through the restaurant, he would go out of his way to make sure my food was as healthy as possible for the setting. He didn’t do anything spectacular, but he left off buttery sauces and/or anything that added unnecessary fat or calories to my dish. I almost always got the grilled Alaskan salmon, cabbage, and broccolini.
The waiter appeared, and we placed our orders. Then I looked over at her. “I know you probably get this question all the time, but how’d you get into blinging out footballs for the Coyotes?”
She chuckled lightly, before telling me about sending a pair of blinged-out sneakers to an athlete’s infant daughter.
“That was resourceful as hell.” I complimented her.
“Yeah. At the time, I was young, ambitious, and fearless. My thought was that all they could do was toss the shoes out. You know what they say—nothing beats a failure but a try. So, I gave it a try.” She shuddered. “I didn’t see it working out for me like this, but I’m so glad it did. I love what I do. Even though I’ll probably never be independently wealthy, I make enough money to sustain myself comfortably. Now, let me ask you a question. Did you make a conscious decision to become a kicker, or did you fall into it? I mean, you don’t really hear about too many black kickers, or any, really. And professional football is highly black, so it’s interesting that some positions seem like they exist for white men to do ’em.”
“Professional football isn’t as black as it seems,” I began. “I mean, the players are mostly black, but the coaching staffs, the front offices, and the people making the decisions are not. I definitely didn’tfall intokicking. I told my parents that I wanted to play football when I was headed to middle school. They weren’t behind the idea. My mother is an orthopedic surgeon. She sees a lot of injured athletes, from peewee leagues all the way to professionals. She already knew what a sport like football could do to bones.
