Happy Holidays from Trev and Pamela!!

Chapter Five: Enjoy Seeing Her Smile

****Pam****

"Trev! Why don't you get out there and run the next set?" Coach White's voice rang out over the field and all of the reporters turned their attention to the sideline where Trev stood, including me. I watched with the other reporters as Trev snapped the strap on his helmet and ran out to the field as Ryan ran off, and as they crossed paths, Trev and him slapped each other on the arm. They had been switching on and off for three days, each time showing the same sportsmanship. All of the media had noticed and it was a popular topic of conversation among the many watching from the press area.

The other popular conversation topic was who would be named the starting quarterback. Everyone had their opinions and they usually swayed towards Ryan. It was a topic that I had gotten tired of talking about but my colleagues started up again as Trev took the field.

"There's no doubt that he looks better than he did, but anything would have been an improvement." I heard Victor comment and I inwardly cringed at his implications about Trev's previous condition.

"Is it enough though? I mean Ryan’s looking pretty good and has gotten some experience from having to fill in for Trev during last season. Maybe they should give Ryan a chance." Barry offered and I sighed, causing them and several others to look at me and I cursed under my breath for directing attention to myself.

"Your dad coached both of them, what do you think, Pamela?" Victor asked and I wished I could hide. I didn't want to give my opinion for the very reason that he had just stated; not only because of my dad but because I knew both Ryan and Trev too.

I shrugged. "Who am I to say. It's been six years since Trev played at ASU. . ." I told the truth, technically; they didn't need to know about the extra help Dad had given unless Trev or Dad let it be known. "And I wasn't there when Ryan played."

"Oh come on Pamela. . .You have to have an opinion on it. . .which one do you think they'll pick?"

 

I looked back at Trev playing and sighed as I did. "I'd be shocked if they don't give Ryan a chance to start during the preseason games." Most of the other reporters smiled and nodded their heads and turned their attention back to the practice, thinking I was done. "But. . ." They slowly turned back towards me. "I wouldn't count Trev out; in fact, I think Trev is going to surprise a lot of people this year." I walked away so I could escape answering anymore questions and continued to watch the practice, thankful to be left alone with my own thoughts and observations.

At the end of practice, some of the players remained on the field to answer questions including Trev and Ryan and the inevitable competition questions started.

"Trev, you and Ryan seem to not have much animosity toward each other, even though you're both vying for the same position.  Will that continue once one of you is named the starting quarterback?"

Trev chuckled as he looked over at Ryan, who returned the chuckle with a knowing grin. "Tom, I'm getting tired of answering the same question that's worded differently. Maybe one of these times you guys will believe me. Do I care about being the starting quarterback? Yes. Do I want the job? Yes. Will I be disappointed if I'm not? Yes. Will I stomp around the field and throw a temper tantrum like some other players might? No. I'm a team player, I've always been one and if me not starting is better for the team, then I'll accept it. The fact that it could be Ryan makes it easier. He's a nice guy, a team player, and he's a good quarterback. So yes, the lack of animosity will continue even if he's named as starting quarterback."

Ryan motioned to Trev that he wanted to add to what Trev had said, and he nodded. "I'm in complete agreement with Trev. We've both answered this question an insane number of times and I'm not answering it anymore. We've told you how we both feel so let's move on to something else."

"Is it true that you're both going to ASU this weekend to help train the quarterbacks?" Another voice shouted through the crowd.

Ryan nodded. "Yes, although I wouldn't say we're going to help train them; more like interact."

"Coach Haines asked if both of us could find a weekend to stop by and talk with some of the players." Trev further explained.

"Knowing him I wouldn't be surprised if running plays fits somewhere into the itinerary." Ryan joked and I found myself chuckling with them which again caused several reporters to look at me.

Several tamer questions were asked before the players headed to the locker room and I was then being pressured from other reporters. "You must have some kind of inside information, Pamela. . .they're both going to work with your Dad this weekend." Victor accused.

"They can do that without me knowing more than any of you." I offered but they weren't going to let me off the hook that easy.

"Right. . ." Barry smirked and I rolled my eyes at him. "You did say something earlier about not counting Trev out. . ."

I turned and glared at him. "Yes, I did, because of what he's shown on the field the last several days. He's more relaxed, has better accuracy, and looks better than he has in years. You'd have to be a complete idiot to not see it and I know for a fact that Coach White and the rest of the coaching staff are not idiots. They'll give Trev his chance, he may have to wait for a bit, but he'll get it."

"He'll probably choke." Tim scoffed and I whirled around to face him. I scowled at him for his stupidity and wanted to tell him how much of an idiot he was for believing that, but that would tip them off since I had never stuck up for Trev before, and that would lead to even more questions being asked.

"I guess we'll see." I offered instead and walked away with thoughts of what I wished I could have said running through my head. 

By late Friday afternoon I arrived at the ASU house and I was even more irate about the whole situation. As I entered the front door, Dad and Mom greeted me and immediately noticed how disturbed I was.

Chapter Four: Conversations - Part Two

****Pamela****

I hadn’t planned to look for Trev, or meant to go inside the viewing room. I’d gone to the stadium to take some papers that Dad forgot at home and while I was there, we started to talk about Trev. 

He mentioned how Trev was starting to look a little looser when he played, that he thought Trev had a decent shot at winning back the starting quarterback position and that he had gotten to the stadium that morning at six-thirty to start reviewing plays.

I couldn’t believe it. Trev had said that he wanted to put in the work to get in shape, and I hadn’t seen anything that contradicted it, but six-thirty in the morning. . .I had to see it for myself. 

All I was going to do was walk down the hallway and take a peek inside if the door was open. But something about hearing him yell at himself as I walked down the hallway made step inside.

Mom and Dad had tried to warn me when I was little to not say every thought that came into my head, but sometimes it came out before I can tell myself to stop. Just like the night of Trev’s return and that afternoon in the back of the viewing room. 

I wanted to die of embarrassment as I watched him turn around and look at me. For a split second I hoped that I blended into the dark shadows of the room. But his eyes had immediately focused on me and I knew I was screwed. 

I figured he’d be upset at dinner that night, but he acted like nothing happened and I was still trying to figure out why as I went downstairs the next morning.

“I figured you would have eaten by now.” I told Mom as she stood at the counter eating a crescent and jam. 

"I got up early to make sure Dad, and Trev ate breakfast; well, mostly your Dad. You know how he gets so preoccupied that he forgets to eat. I don't think anyone really has to remind Trev to eat though. . ."

I chuckled at her last comment. "So did they go back to the stadium?" I tried to ask nonchalantly.

"Yes, they mentioned something about Trev meeting with one of the quarterbacks."

I nodded as I broke off a piece of muffin. "Where's Tiff and Jenn?" I continued to act innocent.

"Tiff had set up a tennis lesson and Jenn went for a run." Mom turned to look at me and gave me a knowing smile. "If you were to say, go to the stadium now, no one else would notice. . ."

It was all the hint I needed. I smiled, thanked her and ran outside to my car. It reminded me of when I was younger and still lived there. 

I’d always tried to sneak out of the house and into the stadium to watch Dad work. For the longest time I thought Mom didn't know, but she eventually revealed that she had; sometimes calling Dad to warn him that I was on my way.

I parked the car in the garage next to the stadium and ran inside; quickly saying hi to a security guard and almost running into one of the assistant coaches. He told me Dad was on the field and I thanked him before heading that way, but stopped for a second when I got to the opening that led to the sidelines.

Trev and an ASU quarterback stood in the middle of the field with Dad and were laughing at something he said. It was entirely possible he was telling a bad joke and even though I was sure I'd heard all of them, I decided to get a closer look at what they were up to.

"Pumpkin! I'm surprised to see you here." He laughed and gave me a hug.

"I couldn't resist. Mom mentioned you being here and Tiff and Jenn are preoccupied with other things." I saw Trev look over at us and felt bad that I’d interrupted again. "Don't mind me. I just came to watch."

Dad nodded and gave me a kiss on the cheek before he walked back to the middle of the field. I hadn’t know exactly what he planned to work on that day, being more interested in being on the field and watching him work, but when I saw Dad stand off to the side as Trev started to give pointers to the younger quarterback, it surprised me. 

I watched as Trev explained to the player, demonstrated, and then stood back as the player tried it himself. When he finished, Trev quickly pointed out things that needed improving and the quarterback tried again.

I’d never seen him do anything like it but the longer I watched, I realized that he seemed to have a knack for teaching technique. It never crossed my mind that he would be good at something like that, but Dad must’ve seen it, since he was letting Trev work with the starting quarterback. 

Having satisfied my curiosity, I eventually slipped out, went back to the house and with nothing else to do, decided to go in the backyard to shoot some hoops.

"Do you still play?" I hadn’t realized how much time had passed until his voice startled me and I swung around to look at him. 

"Not as much as I used to." I admitted and turned around to release the ball into the air. Hearing it swish as it went through the hoop.

I moved to get the ball but he beat me to it and bounced it back to me. "Why didn't you go pro? You were good enough you could have."

I shrugged and didn’t answer him until I shot the ball again and got the same result.  "It just wasn't something I wanted to do. Several pro teams showed an interest but I have a bad knee and it wasn't the sport that I loved. I was good at it, but. . ."

"You don't miss it though?" He bounced the ball back again and I took another shot that hit the edge of the rim.

"Not really." I waited for him to pass the ball but he held onto it and took his own shot, shockingly making a basket. 

"Incredibly lucky." I joked as I retrieved the ball.

"What do you mean?"

I chuckled as I looked over at him. "We both know that you stink at basketball. I've seen you play on this very court when we were in college and it was always far from pretty."

He winced and then chuckled. "Wow! I'll admit that I'm not the greatest player but I don't suck that bad." He flashed a smile at me and shrugged. "Plus, maybe I wasn't trying very hard."

"Fine." I bounced the ball to him and he raised an eyebrow at me. "Prove me wrong. First one to reach ten points, wins." He turned to face the basket and acted like he was going to take a shot.

 

"Oh no! We're playing for real. Half-court game, first one to reach ten wins, and I'll even be nice and let you have the first possession."

His eyes squinted as he showed me his perfect, white teeth. "You really think that's wise? Aren't you afraid that I might beat you?"

I laughed at the absurdity of his question. "You really think you have a chance?"

"Maybe. . ." He bounced the ball as he walked over to the mid-court spot to get into position. "But like I said, maybe you're counting me out too soon."

I smiled at him as I slightly crouched in front of him. "Are you going to make your move, or are you going to keep talking?"

He tested to see how I would defend him by jumping forward and back again until he finally rushed forward and made his way around me, attempting a shot and somehow making a basket.

  

"Lucky shot." I said as he walked back to the mid court spot and I prepared to defend him again.

"You already said that." He smiled at me as he darted to the side again thinking that his previous moves would bring him success again. I anticipated his movements though and as he stepped away, I was able to steal the ball away and get a shot off before he knew what happened.

 

I gave him a smug smile when it went through the hoop.  "I see you're not going easy on me." He raised an eyebrow and I shrugged.

 "Was I supposed to? I thought you said that you’re better than I gave you credit for." 

I made my way to mid-court and turned around to face him. While I felt pretty certain that when it came to skill level I could easily beat him, I lacked in the size department, at least compared to him.  

I realized that I would have a harder time taking him on directly and I needed to find ways to out maneuver him so I could get shots off. 

I did the same as him and moved forward and backward to determine how he would defend and then made my move. I attempted to keep him at my back as I ran to the side and as I took my shot, he knocked the ball out of my hands while also barely making contact with my arm.

"That was a foul!" I smiled as I complained.

"Are you going to cry about it or are we going to keep going? Cause we both know that if this was a real game, I wouldn't be called for a foul." He once again flashed his white teeth at me and I forcefully bounced the ball back to him.

We continued our taunting and playing until the game was tied up at nine points. I had the ball and dribbled it as I contemplated my options.

"Are you going to keep dribbling or are you going to get on with it?" Trev taunted me and I made eye contact with him. 

He had a smirk on his lips and a mischievous twinkle in his eyes that made me wonder what he could be thinking about. I decided to play along and smiled back at him, watching his cockiness change to confusion and that's when I made my move. 

He was distracted long enough for me to dribble past him and even though he quickly caught up to me, I knew I could get a shot off before he got his bearings.

"This can't be a fair game. . ." I heard Tiff say and glanced quickly over to see her and Dad approaching the court. I got distracted long enough for Trev to knock the ball out of my hand and take a shot, allowing him to be the first to reach ten points.

"Crap!" My shoulders sank as I yelled out my frustration.

"He beat you?" Tiff asked in disbelief.

I nodded as I looked over at Trev. "I guess you aren't as bad a player as I thought."

"Well now that you played a game of basketball with Pamela, you should play a game of tennis with me." Tiff more than hinted as she walked up to him.

I moved next to Dad and we watched Trev try to politely explain to Tiff that his talent lied with making balls stay in the air for people to catch, not aiming them for the ground. 

I couldn't decide if I should chuckle or feel bad for him and started to contemplate ways to save him when Dad interrupted my thoughts. "Why'd you let him win?"

I slowly turned my head and shrugged. “What makes you think I did?"

He looked over at Trev and Tiff as he continued. "I have never seen you lose your concentration when you played; even when you were a little girl just starting to play on a team. There's no way Tiff distracted you that much. . ."

I shook my head and shrugged again. "Maybe I'm rusty."

"Not likely. Didn't you just go play with the college girls a couple months ago?"

I didn't answer him and walked over to Trev and Tiff. "Pamela! Convince Trev to play a game of tennis with me!" She half whined and half begged. "He claims he wouldn't be any good."

He shook his head and smiled at her.. "How about if I have the time, I'll let you know, and we'll play a game."

 

She got a silly grin and giggled before excitedly walking over to Dad. "What if you find the time to play?" I asked as he and I both watched her tell Dad about convincing Trev to play with her.

He sighed and a lopsided smile pulled at his lips. "Between the mornings with your dad and the reviewing I'm doing in the afternoon, I'd be surprised if I had the time for a whole game of tennis. But, if I do, I'll make sure to honor the agreement." He turned his body and I felt him looking at me. 

"Speaking of agreements, you agreed to play a game with me until the first person reached ten points."

"And we did that." I said as I turned and looked up at him.

He shook his head, smiled and took a step closer. "You really expect me to believe that you got that distracted? There's no way I won that game."

I lightly snorted. "Are you implying that I let you win?"

He shrugged. "I know that wasn't your best; and you owe me a game where we both give it our all." His eyes twinkled and a small smile appeared on his lips.

"You want a rematch? Are you sure that's smart?"

He chuckled and took another step closer. "Now when have I ever done the smart thing?" He whispered and flashed his white teeth at me right as Mom yelled at us that lunch was ready. 

****Trev****

There wasn’t a muscle in my body that didn’t hurt after five days of running plays, strength training, and helping out with several of the ASU quarterbacks. I wasn’t complaining though. Just like with my second/third chance with the team, I was grateful for Coach’s help, his and Mrs. H.’s hospitality and oddly enough, a chance to have some interesting conversations with Pam.

She had always been guarded around me, and that’s putting it mildly. But somewhere in the middle of the basketball game, I started to see her wall come down a little and it had stayed that way ever since.

It bugged me that I’d won though. It would be like her winning game of football playing against me. Could it happen? Possibly; if I was injured, old and decrepit or half-assing it and letting her win. I’d wondered about the later, that she’d let me win, but she was way too competitive. 

Most people would be able to leave it alone, to just take the win and move on, but I wasn’t that guy. I had to know why I won partially for peace of mind and because it made no sense that I’d won in basketball against a woman who could’ve played professionally.

The only problem was finding the right time to ask her. I couldn’t just blurt it out in front of everyone and we hadn’t been alone since the basketball game. I was going to have to take drastic measures if I wanted to talk to her alone, meaning I’d have to knock on her door across the hall from mine.

 

I stood in front of her door and sighed, doubting the brilliance of my idea. I could leave it alone and walk back across the hall to my door, and I probably would’ve if she hadn’t opened hers and almost barrelled into me.

"Oh! Hi. . ." She said and jumped back. 

I had to come up with some reason why I was standing right outside her door, especially since she was looking at me like she wanted an explanation. I figured telling her the truth was the best game plan and tried to not act as nervous as I felt.

"Hi. . .um, I was wanting to talk to you about. . ."

"Trev?" Tiff’s muffled voice carried down the hall and I froze like a deer in headlights.. "Trev? Is that you?"

"Quick! Get in!" Pam whispered and pulled me to into her room. It the last place on Earth that I thought I’d ever see and I might’ve looked around, marveling at the fact that I was actually in Pamela Haines’ room but there was still the threat of Tiff finding me and it hadn’t quite sunk in yet that I was standing feet away from Pam, listening for any signs of her sister. 

We didn’t have to wait long. There were some footsteps and then a loud pound on Pam’s door. "Pam? Have you seen Trev?"

Neither of us made a sound, hoping that she would think that noone was there, but that didn’t last long. "I know you're in there. . .I saw your door close."

I had no idea what we were going to do. If Pam opened the door, Tiff would see the two of us in together and come to the wrong conclusion. I could just see the whole thing unfold in my head.

How she’d freak out, causing the whole house to come running upstairs and how I’d have to explain it all to their dad. But besides hiding under the bed, which wouldn’t work since I was too big, there was nothing for us to do but face the music. . .at least I thought.

Without saying a word, Pam grabbed my arm, pulled me towards another door and pushed me on the other side of it. “Don't say a word or make any noise. . .unless you want us to have to explain why you're in here. . ." She whispered and quickly closed the door behind me, right as Tiff barged in.  

"What the hell, Tiff! You could've at least waited for me to open the door. What if I’d been changing?" I heard Pam complain and for the first time I looked around. I was surrounded by Pam’s clothes and the reality of the situation caught up with me. I was standing in Pam’s closet, hiding from another woman.

"Sorry, but I'm looking for Trev. I swear I heard him in the hallway but he wasn't there when I looked. Have you seen him?"

"Nope. But I think I heard him too. . ."

"He didn't go down the stairs, I would have seen him."

There was a pause before Pam answered, almost as if she was thinking. "Maybe he went down the back stairs. . ." Her performance was so convincing that I almost found myself believing that I could have gone down the other set of stairs instead of hiding in her closet.

"Oh! Good thinking! I'll go check downstairs!"

"Good idea!" I heard footsteps, the door open and close, and then Pam’s footsteps moving towards the closet door.

She opened it and peeked inside. "I think it's safe for you to come out now." She chuckled and I sheepishly smiled as I walked out the door.

"It's been a long time since I've had to hide in a girl's closet." It was out before I could stop myself from saying it and I was sure she’d glare at me. But she didn’t. She smiled and shook her head.

“The look on your face when you heard her voice. . .Someone had to save you.”

She’d been saving me all week long and I’d never thanked her for it. “Thanks, for hiding me and. . .for the rest of the week.” 

She nodded and looked down at the floor. “She’s my sister and I love her, but she can be very determined when she wants something.” She gave me a hard look and continued. “Can I ask you something?” I nodded but worried about what she was going to ask me.

“If you aren’t interested in her, let her know soon and try to be nice about it. She has a tough exterior but she’s a pretty sensitive person underneath. I was smart enough to realize that she could’ve just as easily been talking about herself.

I nodded and shrugged. "I will. Especially since I don’t  want to do anything to hurt her or any one your family."

She nodded and seemed to be happy with my answer. We walked backed over to the door and she opened it. "I guess I'll see you at dinner." She she smiled and I took that as my cue to leave.

"See you then." I said and started to walk over to my room when I remembered the original reason I’d knocked on her door. I turned around to say something but she had already closed it and I didn’t want to tempt fate twice. 

By the next night I still hadn't talked to Pam or Tiff and as I sat outside on the balcony looking out at the lit up campus,  I started to realize that it was unlikely that I’d get the chance to do either. 

I thought about going to each of their rooms, but didn’t think that was the brightest idea. As interesting as it was to hide in Pam’s closet, I didn’t want to have to do it again and if I went to Tiff’s room she’d get the wrong idea and it’d be twice as hard to convince her I wasn’t interested.

 

But as unlikely as it seemed that I would get to talk with either of them, fate seemed to have a different idea and as I sat there, enjoying the warm breeze and the evergreen and rose smells, Pam opened her balcony door and walked over to the railing. 

"It oddly looks the same and different all at the same time." I said after a minute and she slowly turned around and blinked at me. "Sorry, if I startled you. . ." I’d debated about letting her know I was there, but it didn’t seem right to let her think that she was alone.

"You might have a little." She admitted before one of her eyebrows lifted. "What did you mean, about looking the same and different."

"The campus; it's changed since we were here, but enough of it still looks the same that we can still feel connected to it."

She nodded and a small smile appeared on her lips. "That's true; I hadn't really thought of it that way but you're right." She quickly glanced at the door that led back to her room and then looked down at the ground. "I didn't mean to interrupt you. . .I'll just go back. . ." She motioned towards the door.

"I don't own the balcony, plus, I don't mind. . .unless you do. . ." I offered and she shook her head.

"No, I just figured you wanted to be alone." She cautiously sat down in the chair across from mine and continued to look out at the campus, and I realized that I’d just been given my chance to talk with her about the basketball game.

"About the basketball game. . ." I started but she quickly turned to look at me.

"I've been wanting to talk to you about that." She admitted and I blinked at her several times.

"You have?"

She nodded. "I don't want you to think that I let you win." She sighed and looked back out at the campus, staying silent for several minutes before she turned to look at me and continued. 

"Up until college, I loved playing basketball, even though it required a ton of time and practice. But by our junior year, I realized that I didn't love it anymore. I think I got burned out. I at least had enough sense to know that I didn't want to do it as a career when we started college. I still played it, but it wasn’t because I saw it as my future.” I nodded, encouraging her to continue.

 

“The  game we played was the first time in I don't know how long that I played for fun. Most of the time I’ve played on a team where I needed to play to win or it’s been to help out with the girl’s team here. I got so caught up in having fun that it caught me by surprise. That's why my I lost my concentration; but if you're willing to give me another shot, I'll try not to be so distracted."

I sat in complete shock. She had never been that open with me and now that she had, I wasn't sure what to do, afraid that if I said or did the wrong thing we would go back to the way things had been before. But as afraid as I felt, I needed to let her know what I really thought about the basketball game we played and what she admitted to me.

"No." I shook my head and she looked confused. "If we're going to play, it should be for fun. Although I'd bet money that if we played again you'd beat me. I got extremely lucky."  I looked back out at the campus as I thought about her change of heart in playing basketball. 

"And I can kind of relate to you having doubts about playing. There was a time when I wasn't sure if I wanted to continue with football."

"Really?!"

I turned my head to look at her and nodded. "It was at the beginning of our freshman year. I didn't know what I wanted to do. Everything had been turned upside down right before that and I wondered if I wanted to continue."

"What convinced you to?" She very quietly asked and without hesitation I answered her.

 

"Your dad. He noticed that something didn't seem right soon after I started playing here,  even though I acted the opposite. I told him that I didn't know what I wanted to do; if I could keep doing something that constantly brought up memories of my Dad, and I didn't know if I had the desire and passion to play it anymore.”

“I don't know what it is about him, but your dad has always been able to get things out of me that no one else can. My Mom didn't even know I had second thoughts about playing football; but within a week of being here he had gotten me to admit it to him. He listened to what I had to say and told me something that completely shocked me."

"What did he say?" She leaned forward and her brows came together as she waited for me to answer.

"I didn't know him that well then and I was pretty sure that he’d get upset when I told him, but the complete opposite happened. He told me to forget about the fact that I’d agreed to play ball for the college; to take the team, him, and anyone else out of the equation, even my Dad.”

“He encouraged me to take as much time off as I needed; to see if I missed playing or felt incomplete without it. If I decided to keep playing, my spot would be waiting for me. If I changed my mind, he would understand and I shouldn't feel bad. The bottom line was he was telling me to not be afraid to do what I wanted to just because I was afraid of disappointing others. "

I had been looking at the ground in between us while I told her about the conversation and as I finished I lifted my eyes and saw her nodding her head.

"That sounds just like something he'd say to us; in fact, it's very similar to what he told me when I first mentioned not playing pro basketball and instead writing about sports."

 

Every time we had a conversation I realized how little I knew about her even though we had known each other for nine years; and I wondered if she thought that too. "What did make you want to be a sports journalist?"

She sighed and looked back out towards the campus. "In a roundabout way, it has to do with Dad." She "He started coaching when I was young; in fact, I don't ever remember him not coaching. As we got older, Mom and Dad tried to keep us as sheltered as they could from the media and hoopla that surrounds college sports, but when I was nine I found a newspaper laying on the couch and being the nosy person that I am, I read the front page article.”

“Three paragraphs into it, the writer mentioned Dad and had a low opinion of his ability to do his job. "It's a shame that offensive coordinator Nick Haines couldn't read the General's defense better or made the offense look like something other than the mess that it was. If he had, the outcome of the game may have been a favorable one for the Bulldogs and fans might be rejoicing this morning instead of feeling the disappointment of a loss." She turned to look at me then. "Photographic memory can be a terrible thing."

"I was livid when I read it and I couldn't understand why anyone would think that my Dad wasn't anything but the amazing, great man that he is. He found me sitting on the couch crying and got me to admit to why. He tried to explain to me that what the reporter had written wasn't personal and that dealing with the criticism was part of the job, but I didn't want to listen to him.”

“My silly nine year old self declared that I would one day become a reporter and tell only good things about coaches. It sounded good then, but as I got older it became a childhood dream, until I started really thinking about what I wanted to study in college. I already told you by the time I enrolled here that I knew I didn't want to play basketball as a career." I again nodded and she continued.

"Then there's the fact that while I did at one time love to play basketball, there has always been a sport that I enjoyed more, which is again Dad's doing. When I was really little, I wanted to be a football coach like dad. . ." She looked at me again. ". . .Before I wanted to be the always positive journalist." She joked and I chuckled.

 

"Journalism has allowed me to do both, be involved with football and while I can't always report positive outcomes, I try to be as objective as possible and I refuse to write fluff or opinion pieces." She looked down at the ground for a moment and her mouth pulled to one side. "That was a long explanation. . .Sorry."

"No!" I said with a little too much force and she jumped a little but still looked at me with a raised brow. "I mean, I'm glad you told me the long version." I smiled at her and one slowly spread across her lips.

"So anyway, now you know that my overprotectiveness of Dad isn't a recent thing. He tells me that I shouldn’t be so concerned about him, but I hate thinking that there are people who think bad of him, print things that aren’t nice, and take what he does for granted." At the mention of the last part her eyes got huge. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean. . ."

"Not a problem." I waved her worry away with my hand and smiled. 

We sat there for several more minutes in silence, before her curiosity got the better of her. "Why did you stay away for so long?" She asked so quietly that I almost didn't hear her. . .almost.

It was one of a few questions that was hard for me to answer and besides Coach, my family, Stan and Ryan, I hadn’t told anyone. 

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked." I had been looking at the campus lights again but at the sound of her apology, I turned to look at her again.

"I. . ." I let out another sigh. "There are still some things that are harder for me to talk about and my Dad and this campus is one of them. While I'm able to be here now, and let your Dad know what happened, I'm just not able to talk about it. I'm sorry." I winced, hoping that she'd understand but preparing myself in case she didn't.

She quickly shook her head. "No. You don't have to be sorry; I understand. I shouldn't have asked anyway."

I felt incredibly bad that I had shot her down the way I had and hoped that she did believe that I really appreciated being there that week. "I can't thank your family enough though for allowing me to crash your family week. It's been very helpful but also fun."

She looked a little concerned. "You aren't worried about the upcoming training camp and preseason, are you?"

I nodded. "I honestly think that once Ryan realizes how good he is, he's going to be phenomenal; and I think he's close to realizing it too. He just needs to get some successful game time under his belt to prove it to himself. I shouldn't even have the chance that they've given me; I'm not as young as I used to be, I now have the competition for starting quarterback, something that I never had before. . .There's a lot of unknowns."

What she did next floored me. "From what I've seen in the last week, you're more relaxed and in better shape than before. You're more prepared, you've worked hard. . .don't let your doubt keep you from succeeding. Ryan is good, but he's not you; not yet, so don't count yourself out of the race." 

I couldn’t say for sure, but there wa a good possibility that I sat there with my mouth touching the ground. I don’t think she noticed though since she quickly got up and looked over at her door. "It's really late and I need to head back to the city early tomorrow."

"You're heading back?" I somehow managed to ask.

She nodded and glanced at me. "I have to prepare to cover training camp. . .Have a good night. If I don't see you tomorrow, I'll see you within the next week." She slightly waved and hurried back through her door, leaving me to again wonder if I really was in an episode of the Twilight Zone.

Chapter Four: Conversations - Part One

****Trev****

Two weeks flew by like nothing. Probably because I was insanely busy with my sister’s wedding, a family vacation, and my brother getting engaged. But I didn’t mind the craziness since it helped keep my mind busy and off of having a drink.

I hadn’t been out of rehab for very long, but I was already starting to figure out some things that triggered carvings and what helped. Talking with other people was one thing that worked. Not about the bullshit that most people wanted to talk about, but the honest talking that only happened with family and close friends like Ryan, Stan and Coach.

That was one reason that I was happy to be heading back to Coach’s house. I’d asked for his help with getting me back into shape for the upcoming season and he suggested that I come back after my family vacation.

I hadn’t expected the same three cars to be there when I pulled into the driveway. He hadn’t mentioned family being around during the week that I was staying there and I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. Sure, things were a little better with Pam and me, but we weren’t anywhere close to being friends.

And then there was Tiff. I’d avoided her multiple attempts to corner me, but I wasn’t sure I could do it for a whole week and I hoped that Coach was going to keep me busy so I could avoid her without it looking like I was.

I rang the bell and was more than a little relieved when the door flung open and Coach’s ear to ear grin greeted me. “Trev! Come on in!” He patted my back as I walked past and barely closed the door before giving me a bear hug that squeezed all the air out of my lungs. “Good to see you.” He grunted and I nodded as he let me go.

“You too.”

I didn’t even have a chance to catch my breath before Mrs. H. came around the corner from the kitchen. “Oh good! He’s here!” She gave me another hug, one that allowed me to breathe, and looked me over after taking a step back.  “You’re still too skinny, but I can fix that.  I’ve got several pizza’s baking and I’m working on the salad now.”

I chuckled and shook my head at her fusing. “You shouldn’t have gone to that much trouble, Mrs. H. You could have ordered pizza or even heated up a store bought one and I’d have been happy.”

The cross look she gave me reminded me of one of Mom’s. “Nonsense! Besides, homemade pizza always tastes better.”

“Well, I appreciate the effort and I’m sure it’ll be delicious.” I flashed her a smile, one that usually got me out of hot water and she shook her head; pretending to be upset with me by narrowing her eyes and placing her hands on her hips.

“How many times has that smile gotten you out of trouble?”


“More times than I’d like to admit.” I gave her another smile and they both laughed.

Coach and I hung out in his office until the pizzas were ready and walked across the hallway to the dining room. The scene was similar to lunch a couple weeks before, minus Tiff barging in or bending over in front of me.  There was one change that threw me for a loop though. When we were sitting down, I happened to glance over at Pam and she gave me a small smile. I couldn’t remember the last time she’d done it and I sat staring at my plate, trying to remember when it was.

“Did you have a nice vacation with your family?” It almost didn’t register that Mrs. H. had asked a question, since I was busy staring a hole in my plate. It only hit me when I looked up and saw everyone staring me.  

“Oh…yeah, I did. It was relaxing and it gave me a chance to go over plays and figure out where I want to improve; having competition will do that.” I hinted about Ryan and Coach sat forward in his seat.

“He’s good, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, he is and he’s a nice guy so it makes it really hard to not like him.” I joked and got serious again. “He’s also better than he wants to give himself credit for too.” Coach nodded.

“You didn’t spend your whole vacation reading and watching football, did you?” Mrs. H. half joked.

I chuckled. “You sound like my Mom. Let’s just say that I spent the amount of time I thought I needed doing prep work.”

“I don’t know how anyone could think of football while visiting such a romantic place…” I had to give some credit to Tiff; her timing was impeccable. But my focus on my recovery wasn’t the only reason why I wouldn’t even think about testing those waters. She was Coach’s daughter, and I wasn’t about to do something so stupid.   

“I…suppose that some would find it romantic. I know my brother George did.” It wasn’t the greatest answer and I was sure she’d try again. But she didn’t get a chance to thanks to some unexpected reinforcements.

“I’ve heard the snorkeling there is amazing. Did you have a chance to?” As baffled as I was by Pam’s smile, I was even more so from her help with Tiff and my answer was just as guarded.

“I did; several times. I would recommend it to anyone who goes there.” She nodded, gave me a little smile and looked over at her mom who’d steered the conversation in another direction.

I kept staring at her and wondered what version of the Twilight Zone I was in. Not that I minded her smiling at or helping me. But it was completely uncharted territory and I wasn’t sure what to do about it.

My journey into the Twilight Zone continued after dinner, when we sat down in the living room and Coach and I started talking about what he had in store for me that week. We hadn’t gone over many specifics during the previous ones, partially because he wanted to see me in action before figuring out what we should work on, and also because he liked being a sneaky bastard.

“When I mentioned to some of the players that you were coming in, several of them talked about wanting to be here to meet you. Would it be okay if we go down to the stadium tomorrow morning? Some of them even hoped to catch a couple balls.” It was a question disguised as a statement and I chuckled as I tried to get him to admit what we would really be doing.

“Are we just throwing balls, or are we running plays?” He smiled but didn’t say a word.

“Really, Nick…he just got back from vacation.” Mrs. H. protested.

“Oh, I don’t mind. I just want to make sure I know what I’m getting myself into tomorrow especially since he’s agreed to help whip me back into shape.”

“And what better way to do that, than to have you run plays with some youngsters…” Coach finally revealed the beginnings of his plan and I nodded.

“So we are running plays…” I smiled and everyone laughed.

“I can’t understand why you think you need to get into shape. You look like you’re in great shape to me…” It wasn’t her comment that caught me off guard, it was the way her eyes traveled up and down my body and I actually was at a loss for words.

“There’s a difference between being in shape and being in shape to play. It’s like running, you have to build up endurance.” It was Pam to the rescue…again and I found it just as confusing as the first time.

“Exactly, and playing football not only involves preparing your body, but also your mind by knowing plays and reading defensive and offensive lines. Be prepared so you can adjust. The better prepared you are, the easier it is to adjust your strategy and plan of attack or defense.” I hadn’t heard Coach’s motto or followed his advice in years. But the second he said it, I realized that it was exactly what I needed to do if I wanted a shot at getting my job back.

One way to prepare was by reviewing games. Sounds easy, but when it’s reliving how bad you’ve played for the last several years, it quickly loses its appeal. But it’s what I’d done through college and in my early years as a Buck, when I actually played worth anything, and it seemed like a good place to start.

I woke up the second morning at Coach’s determined to bite the bullet and watch myself look like a complete ass on the field. With it being summer, I had my pick of the viewing rooms and went for the one at the end of the hallway. There might’ve only been a handful of people there and the games had already been broadcast around the country, but I didn’t want to draw an audience to watch me do it again.

The beginning games weren’t so bad. I wasn’t as dependent on alcohol at that point, but I could see a steady decline in my performance with each game and by the sixth one I was cursing at myself for being such an idiot.

“God! That was so stupid! Why did I not see that defensive lineman?” I wrote down a note on a pad of paper and fast forwarded to the next play. Sure that I was about to see another mess up. Sure enough, it was me throwing an interception.

“Shit! I completely missed that Anderson was open…” I grabbed the pencil, made another note, and sighed as I reached over to fast forward to the next play.

“He’s not the obvious choice though.” I almost jumped out of my chair. I’d been so caught up in watching that I hadn’t heard anyone come into the room.

I slowly turned around and squinted to see who I already knew was there. It took a second for my eyes to adjust but when they did, I saw Pam with what can only be described as an “Oh shit” look on her face.

“Do you have a habit of sneaking in rooms and watching people when they’re not looking?” I was more than a little upset when she first revealed herself, but seeing her face turn red with embarrassment softened my annoyance a bit.

“I’m sorry. I got curious and wondered what you were watching. I’ll just go.” She quickly turned to leave but I wanted to know why she’d made the comment.

“I didn’t say I minded. I just wondered if it was a habit of yours.” She turned back around but looked at the screen instead of me and I spun my chair back to look at it too. “Why’d you say that about Anderson? That he wasn’t the obvious choice?” I asked her as I rewound the play.

“Because I have a big mouth and can’t keep comments to myself.” She blurted out and I chuckled.

“That may be true, but I’d still like to know…” I hinted and she walked a little further into the room.

She shrugged as she continued to look at the screen. “He’s not someone that you usually throw to.”

“But that’s what would have made the play work.” I said as I looked back at the screen.

“It probably would have…”

“But…”

“I didn’t say but.” She snapped but didn’t leave.

I looked sideways at her, knowing she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from letting me know what she thought. She sighed and continued. “You didn’t read the defense correctly. If you had, you would’ve realized that the player you intended to throw to wasn’t an option and would have noticed Anderson was wide open.”

I nodded and completely agreed with her. “You’re right; and any decent quarterback would’ve seen that. Doesn’t help that the quarterback on the video had a massive hangover that day either.” I said with complete disgust.

“That may be true, but…” She sat down in a chair across the aisle and pointed to the screen. “…if you fast-forward to the next play, you might see something that the quarterback on the screen did right.”

I felt my brows come together as I looked at the screen in confusion and fast forwarded the video until the next play came up. Tiny snapped the ball, I caught it and looked to the intended receiver, pumped, but then turned to throw the ball to Anderson who was open. Exactly what I should have done in the previous play.

“See?” She crossed her arms in front of her and glanced over at me with an “I told you so” look on her face.

I nodded as I continued to look at the screen. “Doesn’t change the fact that I missed it the first time.”

“Trev…” She sighed and turned so she could look at me instead of the screen. “You’re being way too hard on yourself. Every player makes mistakes.”

I started to disagree with her, but something else popped into my head and I had to ask her about it.. “How did you remember what the next play was?”

She whispered something under her breath and squirmed in her seat as she looked up at the ceiling. “I have a photographic memory.”

“You have a what?”

“A photographic memory, you know…when I see something I remember it.” She said louder and with a hint of testiness. I stared at her, completely dumbfounded.  I’d known her since we were eighteen and had never known that about her.

“What happens next?” I tested her because I still didn’t fully believe it was true.

She sighed and looked straight ahead at the screen. “You throw to Washburn, he catches it, and you gain ten yards.”

I went to the next play and watched as it happened, exactly like she said it would. “Whoa.” I whispered my amazement and kept staring at the screen.

“Anyway, you did some good stuff last season, and you’re trying to get better, so don’t be so hard on yourself.” She said matter-of-factly and stood up. “I’ll leave you to it…I’m sorry I interrupted you.” She scooted the chair back up to the table and started to walk back down the aisle to the door.

She might’ve spied and interrupted me, but it didn’t mean that I wasn’t grateful for her advice and unexpected pep-talk. I turned around and called after her. “Pam?”

She stopped and glanced over her shoulder and I once again felt like I was in some version of the Twilight Zone as I added, “Thanks.”

I got a nod and she left the room, as quietly as she entered it.