Chapter Two: Reaching Out

Even before going to rehab I’d sometimes sweat at night, but not enough to make the sheets stick to me like a second skin. That didn’t start until the night I decided to get help, along with waking up to my heart beating so fast that I worried that it might actually explode. Having a heart attack will do that to you, make you second guess your heart’s ability to function or fear that the racing heartbeats are a sign that you’re having another one.

Those were moments when I would’ve given and done almost anything to make it stop and was when the “Drinking Devil” would whisper in my ear. He was a sneaky, conniving little shit, who waited for the right moment to remind me that a drink would make me forget it all. But there was a half-truth to what he tried to sell me. For a moment I would forget, but just as quickly the memories and dreams I tried to escape from would return.  

So I tried to take Stan’s advice instead; to find something to keep me distracted from the sweaty sheets, a racing heart and thoughts of drinking. Before that, I would’ve thought my days of playing piano were behind me. A given up childhood hobby that very few ever knew I did. But in my desperation to find something to drown out my fears and pleas to drink, I’d given in one night and started to play again.

The first night it felt forced. My hands didn’t flow across the keys and I could barely remember any of the songs I used to play.  I worried that maybe playing the piano wasn’t like riding a bike, something you could give up for years and then pick back up again with a brief refresher course. But it got better, and each time I sat down to play my fingers felt looser and my confidence in my ability slowly returned. It was something else to add to the list of things I never thought I’d do again. A list that grew longer every day in my quest to remain sober.

Truthfully, I enjoyed it and looked for any excuse to play. And as I laid in bed with the sheets clinging to me I figured that I might as well do something entertaining since I was up. But the thought of my sweat drenched ass sliding across the bench made me second guess the idea and I looked at the clock, wondering what time it was and if I had time to shower and play.

No matter how long my blurry eyes stared at the green numbers, they refused to change. Five, zero, seven. “Shit!” I cursed the clock and the time. It would’ve been better if I’d woken up in the middle of the night. I could’ve showered and had plenty of time to head downstairs to play. But with it being less than an hour before the alarm was set to go off, there wouldn’t be time for both.  

I flung the sweaty sheets off of my legs, swung them over the side of the bed and planted my feet on the soft, furry rug. I might’ve actually enjoyed the softness of it poking in between my toes, or how the light bouncing off the nearby buildings cast a dim, soft glow in the bedroom; one of my favorite things about living in the city. But they couldn’t distract me from the disappointment of not being able to play the piano or what woke me up.

It was the same dream every time. I stood alone in a large, bright, white room, calling out for anyone to show themselves. Just when I’d give up hope, Dad would appear from some part of the blinding light that surrounded me, dressed in white and every inch of him glowing. He gave me the same disappointed look he always did right before my voice echoed from every direction, bombarding me with the promise I’d made at his funeral close to ten years before. “We’ll be true to ourselves.”

My words that day haunted me, just as much as Dad did and both had been constant since the night I went into rehab. It’s actually what made me go there in the first place. I drank so much in the days leading up to that night, making my dreams and reality blur together enough that I swore I physically heard my voice, even after waking up. Over and over the words repeated and all I could do was sit on the cold bathroom floor, covering my ears and pleading first with God and then my brother George for it to stop.

In my debilitated state, I had the crazy idea that maybe if I got sober, not half-assed sober but “honest to God” sober, the voices and Dad hauntings would stop. But they hadn’t, and the fact that they still felt as real as they did the first night was one reason I was convinced that what happened wasn’t some hallucination.

And as the weeks trudged on and I heard myself say the same words, their message started to sink in. Maybe what Dad was trying to help me understand was that to be happy, stay sober, be the person I wanted to be and someone Dad would be proud of, I needed to be true to who I really was. The person I tried to hide from everyone.

It would be one of the hardest things I ever tried to do. I’d spent years trying to hide the hurting, unsure, lonely guy from the world by being the loud, funny, smartass guy that lived larger than life. It was what everyone expected from me and I worried that if I showed them the real me, they might not believe it.

Even scarier was the realization that I wasn’t sure if I knew how to be myself. But faced with a future of faking it and continuing on in my sad, lonely existence or being real and actually connecting with people, I’d chosen the later. Hoping that at some point it would lead to something better.

The past press conference and that morning were my first chances to show the team, organization and the media the real me. That I wasn’t just blowing smoke up their asses about working hard and earning my place. It was why that morning’s practice was crucial and almost as important as my first practice with the team, six years before.

I needed to be focused and lose, not stressed, with my mind preoccupied on reoccurring dreams, and as I stepped into the shower I hoped that the hot water would help my muscles relax and wash away the memories of my dream. It mostly worked. By the time I sat down to eat something I felt more focused and confident about facing the day ahead.

First up was a meeting with Coach and I made a beeline to his office when I got to the Buck’s facility. I hadn’t been told much about it, but assumed that it was just a formality. A “welcome back to the team” and “glad to have you back” meeting and I wasn’t too worried about it as I caught sight of Coach’s door.

“Trev?” I didn’t even need to turn around to know that the voice belonged to Ryan, but what I didn’t know was why he was there.

“Drews! How’ve you been?” I asked him as I turned around and gave him a rib crushing hug.

“Dude! I need air!” He sputtered and chuckled as I let him go. “I’ve been good but it’s been way too quiet around here without you.” He smiled and patted me on the shoulder.

Under different circumstances, we probably wouldn’t have liked each other. I’d been the starting quarterback and he’d been the backup, something that could cause friction on any team. But Ryan had been drafted a year before from my alma matter, ASU, and he’d quickly become one of my closest friends and been one of my biggest supporters during my recovery.

What are you doing here so early?” I asked him.

“Oh, Coach asked me to meet him in his office around seven. How about you?”

I looked at him and then the door, trying to figure out what was going on.  “The same thing…” I told him right as the sound of rushed, heavy footsteps came bounding down the hallway.

“Oh good! You’re both here. Let’s go into my office and we’ll start.” Coach barked as he fumbled to find his keys.

He hastily put his things by his desk as soon as we went in and motioned to a table in the corner of the office. Something was obviously up and I raised an eyebrow at Ryan, wondering if he had any idea what it was. He shrugged and we both looked back at Coach as he sat down across from us.  

The last thing I expected him to do was chuckle. “You two look like you’re about to go before the firing squad.”

We nervously chuckled at the truth of his statement. “Well, this isn’t normal. We’ve never had a meeting with just Trev and me.” Ryan pointed out and Coach nodded.

“True.” He sighed and put on his serious coach face. “So here’s the deal…”

“We announced that the starting quarterback position was open at Trev’s press conference and well…” He chuckled. “We have three quarterbacks, and I think we can all agree that as much as we respect the third, he’s definitely a backup.”

Tom Bedford was a good team player, and had been a decent college quarterback, but was never drafted to step into the position of starting quarterback. He was the backup to the backup, and was more than happy to be on the team in that capacity.

“I know Trev’s okay with this, but I wanted to reassure both of you that we’re not looking to put anyone out of a job and that just because we may start with one of you, it doesn’t mean that that’s the way it will be the whole season. We want to do what’s best for the team and…” he paused as he smiled at both of us. “Both of you are competitive guys but I’m hoping that we can all check our egos at the door and have some friendly competition.”

I let out a sigh of relief, knowing what the reason for the meeting was, and chuckled as I glanced between the both of them. “I’ve said before that I wanna do what’s best for the team. If that’s Ryan starting as quarterback, then I’m okay with that.” I turned and gave Ryan a smug smile. “But I’m gonna  give you a run hell of a run for your money.”

He smiled at my threat and nodded. “I wouldn’t expect less, old timer.” I laughed and he glanced at Coach. “And I agree; I want what’s best for the team.”

Coach shook his head and smiled at us. “I gotta tell you guys, I’m lucky. It’s rare in this day and age to have such loyal players. Not only that, but players who don’t have an inflated ego about themselves. I figured we wouldn’t have a problem but I wanted to meet with both of you before we moved forward.”

His gaze focused on me and all kidding was tossed aside. “We’re glad you’re back, Trev. I hope you’ll be around for a long time.”

I looked down at the table and nodded. “Me too.” 

We got up and Ryan and I went back in the hallway. We didn’t get very far outside the door before we stopped and looked at each other; both dumbfounded by what’d just happened.

“That was by far the strangest meeting I’ve ever had.” I shook my head and chuckled.

“Yeah, that was…is that normal?” He pointed to the door with his thumb and I shook my head.

“Not that I know of. Most coaches would wait until there was a problem before calling players into their office; but that’s not Coach.”

He nodded. “Yeah, Coach Haines told me I couldn’t go wrong with Coach White…and having a quarterback like you to learn from.” He’d meant it as a complement, but hearing that Coach Haines was telling anyone that I was a good person to learn from made me feel even more guilty about not having any contact with him for almost six years.

I nodded and tried to play the awkward silence off as a quiet appreciation for what he said. It seemed to work, and I used his quick glance back at Coach’s door as a way to change the subject. “I meant what I said in there, you know; and what I said at the press conference. As far as I’m concerned I shouldn’t even be here, have this second…third chance.”

The smile faded and he nodded. “I know, Trev. But I think we both know I’m not good enough to start…yet.” He added and I shook my head.

“You’ve always been better than you’ve given yourself credit for, Ry. You just need to start believing it.” He was better than I was a year out of college but refused to see it. I knew it was one of the reasons that he’d picked the Bucks’, so he could get more experience before starting, but he didn’t need it.

He shrugged and looked down at the floor. “We should probably head to the locker room. I’m sure the guys are chompin at the bit to see you.” He looked back up at me and I nodded. But as we walked to the other side of the building I added helping Ryan to my list of making things right.

“Hey! There he is!” “Trev’s back!” “How ya feeling, Trev?” Guys called out as we entered the locker room and I smiled at them as I made my way to my locker.

“Glad to be back, guys.” I shouted above all their noise and started to take off my shirt so I could change into my workout clothes.  

“You better not fucking ever do that again.” A deep voice interrupted me and the locker room went completely silent. I whirled around to face who I knew the voice belonged to and opened my mouth to say something, but he cutt me off.

“You scared the shit out of us.” Wes pointed a finger at me and several guys gathered around agreed with him. I couldn’t blame him or anyone for being mad at me, but concerned…that hadn’t fit into the initial equation.

It added another layer to the guilt that already weighed down on me and was the beginning of me really understanding what I’d put them through.  

“I…" I sighed and glanced down at the floor to try to hide the pain, but that wasn’t going to help make things right with them or myself and I forced myself to look up at them as I continued. “I scared the shit out of myself. And I’m sorry that I worried you and put the team in this position.”

“Fuck the team, Trev.” Tiny said and everyone turned to stare at him. “I mean…you know what I mean guys! We’re more concerned about what happened to you than the team.” He added and most of the team nodded.

“Are we really just going to believe him? Forget what he did and take his word that he won’t fuck up again?” Another shocked silence fell over the locker room and all eyes focused on Mike Brewster, one of our guards.

“Back off, Mike.” Tiny’s deep voice calmly warned as he took a couple steps towards him. It was usually enough to make anyone back down, but Mike continued to not looked convinced and eyed Tiny as he tried to determine if it was worth it to keep pushing.

“I’ll make you a deal, Brewster.” I butted in, hoping that what I was about to offer would bring back a truce between him, me and anyone else who questioned my motives or intent to do what was right for the team. “Give me the preseason. If at any time after that you decide that I’m not worth the trouble…” I looked into the eyes of everyone standing there, making sure that they each knew I meant what I was about to say, ending with Mike as I continued. “I’ll pack my bags and move on.”

You could’ve heard a pin drop as he thought about my offer and as each second ticked by, I worried about what I would do if he didn’t accept it. The team couldn’t take the kind of distraction that happened when two or more players disliked each other so much that it caused drama on and off the field.  Not if they wanted to have a chance at a successful season.

I heard my heart beating in my ears when his loud sigh signaled that he’d made a decision, and held my breath as his narrowed eyes focused in on mine. He didn’t say anything as his stony eyes scanned the faces of the rest of the team, but nodded when he looked at Tiny, and the room let out a collective sigh of relief.  


“Gentleman…” Coach called out as the doors opened and all attention focused on him. “…workouts start in ten minutes. We’ll start on the field and then finish in the gym. This is the last week before our brief summer break so we want to see a lot of sweat from you. See you in ten.” He walked out as quickly as he entered and all discussions were curbed as we rushed to get out onto the field in time.

We followed our normal routine of team stretches and a meeting in the center of the field where Coach reviewed the breakdown of our practice and reminded us that the press would be there. They would’ve been anyway, but there was even more of a media presence that day since I was back and as we broke off to work on specific skills, Bucks’ reps started letting reporters on the field.

I groaned when most of them made their way over to Ryan and me, especially when I saw Pam with them. While I knew I had to do post and pre game interviews, I could never resign myself to the fact that I had to deal with reporters during practices. To me, it felt like an intrusion and I’d been reminded more than once by the organization that I was to play nice with them when they showed up.

But as they stopped about ten feet from us and started taking pictures of Ryan and me throwing a ball back and forth, I tried to keep my anger from showing as I imagined the different spins that would be captioned under the same photo: “Devila and Andrews – Friends or Foes?”, “Showdown at Bucks’ Stadium”, or “Youth vs. Experience – Which One will Win?”.

We continued to throw for several minutes until we knew we couldn’t hold off their questions any longer. Most of them were the predictable questions: “How’s it feel to be on the field?” Good, was my answer. “Is there some competitiveness going on between the two of you, since the starting position is open?” We both tried to convince them that there was nothing mean spirited, only friendly competition. I knew they didn’t buy it, or didn’t want to since that wouldn’t sell, but we tried our best anyways to squash those rumors.

The relief I felt as the Bucks’ rep led the group away only lasted until I noticed that Pam had lagged behind. It worried me a little since it didn’t seem like she should have a reason to, but felt some relief when I reminded myself that she never wanted to talk to me. She proved me right when she walked past without looking at me or saying a word, and up to Ryan instead.

“Are you still planning on coming to ASU this summer?” The pleasantness of her voice was shocking to me. It’d been so long since I’d heard her talk that way to anyone, I’d forgot that she could.

“Yeah, your dad mentioned me coming to help with the quarterbacks, maybe throwing some balls with them.” My head snapped up and I looked over at them as they continued.

“That’s great! He always appreciates when old players take time out to visit and keep in touch with him.” It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know that her comment was directed more at me than him and the word “ballsy” came back to mind as I looked down at the ground, praying that the conversation would end soon.

“Happy to do it.” Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed him smile at her and glance over at me. I tried my best to keep starring a hole into the ground but looked up in time to see her sweetly smile at him before she walked within inches of me again.

“Trevor.” She finally addressed me without stopping or looking at me.

“Pam.” I nodded as she walked past and smirked when I noticed the slight hiccup in her step when I did.

We watched her walk back across the field until she rejoined the other reporters and silently returned to throwing the ball.  It was nice to have a moment to practice in silence and with no interruptions. But like most good things, it wasn’t meant to last. I couldn’t keep my worries about their conversation at bay for very long. Mostly worried that he would be able to connect the dots that the conversation was actually directed at me and why.

“So…did you two ever date?” I froze and missed catching the ball. Partly because the question came from completely out of the blue and because I’d never heard a more ludicrous thing in my life.

“What?! No!!” I protested loud enough that several guys nearby turned to look at us.

“Sorry.” He held up his hands and I turned to go fetch the ball, but not before noticing the smug grin he tried to hide by looking away. As we kept throwing, I wondered how he could even come up with such a crazy idea. Me? Date Pam? Pigs would sooner fly in a hell that was frozen over, at least that was my take on it.

“I was just wondering since there’s so much tension between the two of you…” He hinted and it was at that moment that I realized that he’d connected the dots of his conversation with her, but had drawn the wrong picture with them.

The more I thought about it, it didn’t sound as bad as when he first said it. When faced with letting him think that our tension was from us dating and not the real reason, our complicated history and how I’d treated her dad, I seriously considered letting him think that it was the former. But if it ever got back to Pam that I’d even hinted that we’d ever dated…her fiery eyes might just actually burn me.

I sighed and decided to tell him the truth instead. “She’s just never liked me and I think she’s mad at me for not keeping in touch with Coach.” He nodded and threw me the ball.

“Do you have his number?” It wasn’t until he asked that I realized that I didn’t know. It had been so long since I’d talked to Coach, I wasn’t sure if the number I had saved in my phone was the right one.

“I’m actually not sure…” I admitted and he nodded.

“Remind me after workouts and I’ll give it to you.” I was floored. He hadn’t judge me for what I’d done, but simply offered to help if I wanted it.

“That would be great…Thanks.” 

He smiled and shrugged. “No problem.”

Later that evening I sat in my apartment staring at my phone and Coach’s number. It hadn’t changed in six years and it made me feel even guiltier about not contacting him. I’d told myself that it wouldn’t have done any good to try since his number more than likely changed and up until two years ago, when Ryan was drafted, I didn’t have any real way of finding out for sure. They were pathetic excuses and I couldn’t imagine admitting them to anyone, especially Coach.

Which was why I sat there, staring at the number instead of calling him. I had no idea what to say, what excuse to give or a concrete reason for why I was calling. Was I just supposed to say “Hey Coach, sorry I haven’t talked to you in six years. I’ve had your number but just didn’t bother to call you?”

“What a loser.” I said to myself and hovered my finger over the call button. “Fuck it.” I sighed and touched the screen, putting the phone up to my ear and listening to it ring. One, two, three times. I had made up my mind to hang up after the fourth one but his voice came on the line.

“Hello?” I was so shocked to hear his voice that I just sat there, my mouth hanging open as I realized that I was actually talking to him. “Hello?” He repeated and I remembered that I actually needed to speak for us to have a conversation.

“Coach Haines?” I didn’t know why I was asking since I knew it was him, but it was all that I could come up with at that moment.  

“Yeah…” He paused for a moment and I imagined him rubbing his thick beard as he tried to figure out who it was. “Trev?” He guessed before I could tell him and I was stunned that he could remember my voice after so long.

“Um…yeah. It’s Trev, Trev Davila.”

“Holy shit! How are you?” I could tell he was smiling and I had to admit that it made me feel better. Just like with everyone else I’d lost contact with, I wasn’t sure how he’d respond. Knowing that he was happy to hear from me helped take away a little of my worry and I even smiled as I continued.

“I’m good. Listen, I know it’s been a while…” I started but he interrupted me.

“No big deal. You’ve been busy.” He offered but I wouldn’t give up that easily.

“I have been, but…” I paused trying to figure out a way to explain everything. I wanted to tell him why it had been so long, why I hadn’t been in touch with him or been back to ASU since I graduated; but a thought suddenly popped into my head: maybe he didn’t care why I hadn’t.

“Trev, you don’t have to explain. I have to admit though, I’m glad you called. I’ve been wondering how you’re doing.” He still sounded like the old coach that I had six years prior; always trying to understand and be gracious, never judging me. It was crazy how in just seconds he had transported me back to feeling like I was a teenager and he was my Coach, making most of the awkwardness I felt melt away.

“It’s…I’m getting better.” I honestly admitted.

“It’s tough. I can’t speak from personal experience, but I’ve known several people who’ve gone to rehab and are recovering. I think you’re stubborn enough to beat it though.” He slightly joked and I was surprised to find myself laughing.

“Yeah, I’m still that stubborn guy who played for you.” I owned up to it and smiled.

“So I’ve heard.” He said and we both chuckled. “As glad as I am to hear from you, was there something specific you needed or did you just call to catch up?”

I hesitated before I answered. I knew he was a busy man and I didn’t want to take up any of his valuable time. “Both?” I finally said.

“You sound unsure.” He joked again before getting serious. “Trev, I told you before you left here that if you ever needed anything, it didn’t matter what it was, that I was always here to help.”

I swallowed hard before finally blurting it out. “I was wondering if it was possible to meet with you. I wanted to talk, but not over the phone. I know you’re busy…”

“How about this weekend? You’re done with practice for the next couple of weeks starting this Friday, right?”

“Um…yeah. I’m going to a wedding on Saturday…”

“No big deal, how does Sunday sound? Can you come here to campus? You could stay here at the house and that could give us a chance to talk and catch up.” He offered and although I shouldn’t have been shocked by his generosity, I was.

“Sure. But I can stay somewhere else” I argued.

“Bullshit! Nicole will scold me if I didn’t convince you to stay at the house. You’d be doing me a favor by keeping me out of trouble with the misses. Plus, I know she’d want to see you. You were always one of her favorite players, you know?”

I smiled thinking about Mrs. Haines. She had a great sense of humor and was almost as much of a smart ass as I was. “Alright, if you’re sure it won’t be an inconvenience.”

“Not at all! And like I said, you’ll be doing me a favor.”

We talked for a while longer, catching up a little and finalizing an arrival time for Sunday morning. I hoped that the rest of the week would fly by, and thankfully, it did. Between practices every day and my sister’s wedding on Saturday, I didn’t have much time to worry about the trip. But as I got ready to leave for ASU, I had to admit that I was a little nervous about seeing Coach again.

ASU was only an hour and a half drive from Bridgeport, but it always amazed me how in that hour and a half the scenery changed from the tall buildings of Bridgeport to the rolling hills of ASU campus. They actually reminded me of my hometown Appaloosa. But ASU wasn’t in Appaloosa, it was actually in a little town called Appleville.

It confused just about every one that visited, including me the first time I made the trip with Dad to see the campus. Because to me it seemed to make sense that the university and the town would have the same name. Which led to Dad telling me the story of how the town was named for its abundance of apples in the fall and that the school was named for one of the original founders.

It all sounded like bullshit to me then, and I still wasn’t sure I understood why they didn’t have the same name, since my hometown wasn’t even in the same state. But I wasn’t on the board in 1782 when the college was founded and couldn’t tell them how confused people would still be over the name 200 years later.

Campus wasn’t very far from the town welcome sign, and soon I was travelling down the familiar streets of my college years, feeling nostalgic as passed each square inch of it. There were the athletic dorms where we threw several parties, even though it was against the rules. The kissing tree that I’d kissed more girls in front of than I could remember, and the stadium that was filled with countless memories of practices and games. Each memory making me smile even bigger and almost making me forget why I’d been gone for so long.

I eventually turned the car down the road that led towards Coach’s house and when it finally came into view, a gigantic smile lit up my face. It was just like I remembered it. A huge brick house that matched the colonial style of most of the buildings on and around campus. The front porch was still lined with chairs and benches where players sometimes gathered to hangout. And rose bushes that I could almost imagine the smell of, still grew in front.

I pulled up to the gate and punched in the code that Coach had given to me over the phone, parking my car behind several others but didn’t think much of it, or that one of the cars looked familiar. People had always visited their house when I went to school there and I figured not much must’ve changed in the past six years.    

As I rang the doorbell, I had visions of Mrs. Haines opening it and quickly whisking me into the house before offering me a glass of sweet tea. Something she had done countless times in my four years there, and as I heard a voice from behind the door, I smiled in anticipation of seeing her.

“I got it!” She shouted over her shoulder as she opened the door, giving me a split second more than her to try to get over my shock. She actually smiled at me at first, not realizing that it was me that she was greeting. But her smile quickly faded once it hit her and we stood there for several seconds staring at each other, trying to understand what the other was doing there.