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After a quick jaunt, I find myself back down in the same area I was before the game, but in an open room with a few tables up against the wall covered with Tigers memorabilia. The upright piano sits off to the side, and suddenly, I’m unsure of myself. Not in my ability but in what exactly I’m supposed to do or play.
I turn to Miranda. “So I thought I’d warm up a bit, but what would you like me to play?”
Not taking her attention off her tablet, she says, “Whatever you want. I’m sure the families will love to hear about the contest and some of the songs you’ve written, but it’s really up to you.”She pauses. “I have to go check on a couple of things, but make yourself at home. It’ll probably be half an hour or so before someone brings the families in.”
I nod, slightly frustrated by the lack of direction, but step into the room and toward the piano. I set my backpack on the floor next to it and sit on the bench, running my fingers over the slick keys. The smooth, cool ivory under my fingertips instantly makes me feel at home.
After today, there’s a song begging to take shape, but that’ll have to wait. For now, I play what’s on my heart, and given that I have this time alone, I raise my voice to sing the way I like best…when no one is listening.
Chapter 5
SEAN
Another hand slaps my back as the room erupts with celebratory praises for clinching the victory. I dress quickly, ready to get the post-game interviews out of the way so I can hit up the meet and greet and go home.
I’m happy with the win, but I’m not the type to go overboard when we still have a whole season ahead. I like to take it one game at a time, focusing on keeping myself in shape and off the bench.
Above all the racket, I hear my name. “Greyson, you’re up next.”
I finish dressing and grab my duffle on the way out of the locker room, setting it aside before stepping up to the mic. I don’t mind the interviews as long as they stay on topic and off my personal life. Today, I know I’ll get asked about how my ribs felt during the game, and luckily, they’re feeling good.
Weeks back, during preseason, a helmet collided with my ribs, and I was benched until the medical team released me, which is always torture. Not only is it hard to watch the game go on without me, but I never know when the sub will outperform and end up being my replacement. It’s the name of the game. One minute, you’re on fire, and everyone is chanting your name.The next, you’re ancient history with the new guy tearing up the field.
It ended up being the wake-up call I needed. While sitting around waiting for my bruised ribs to heal, I realized that outside of football, I was completely detached. It was like I’d been flying high for so long that once back on the ground, the world surrounding me was unrecognizable. It was a revelation I couldn’t ignore.
I sat at home for days, wondering how I’d gotten so far from where I started. I grew up with nothing. No family, no home, no consistency or security. I spent my childhood in the foster system and eventually moved into a group home. Until a few years ago, I didn’t have a clue as to where I even began.
But the years since playing college ball and being drafted into the NFL have been like a whirlwind. It’s been a dream come true, but sitting on my couch resting my body, something hit differently this time. The question I couldn’t get out of my head was what happens when the dream is over.
These past years playing at the highest level have moved fast, and my life outside of football has turned into something I don’t recognize or even like. I’ve started to question everything. Who are my friends, my real friends? The people who actually know me and care about me beyond my name or that I play football. From what I could come up with, that list was very, very small.
All my pondering and self-examination left me with the sad reality that I have it all, but very little of it really matters. At the end of the day, the house, the car, the grand vacations…what’s it all worth?
I even woke up one day wondering why I was dating my girlfriend. She’s beautiful, smart, and strong, and I care about her, but I don’t love her, which was shameful. I enjoyed the companionship and having someone there, but that isn’t what arelationship should be. At least not for me or the man I want to be, the man I used to be.
But here I stand, again, answering questions like everything is fine, with a group of people who think they know me and believe that football is the only thing that matters. For years that was true. I can’t say that anymore, so I’m trying to get back to those things that mean something, the things that, at the end of the day, I can’t live without. The terrifying thing is I’m having trouble finding them.
I answer about ten easy questions, then let the next guy take my place while I head down the hall to the meet and greet, where I’ll shake hands and sign autographs for kids whose dream is to be me one day.
As I approach the doors to the conference room, I hear piano music, which is not typical of these sessions. Reaching the doorway, I see her and stop, flashing back to her standing on the podium, looking tiny, and then hearing the most unexpectedly soulful voice come pouring out.
I feel like a real asshole. I misjudged her and not only her but her ability. She plays the piano almost as beautifully as she sings. Whatever it is, it’s soft and soothing. Her husband was right; her voice, her music–it's a sound the world should hear.
“Sean, come on in. We have kids waiting to see you.” Miranda pushes me forward into the room, but I find it hard to concentrate on anything but the woman at the piano. Her head is down, eyes focused on the keys, almost like she’s somewhere else.
I drop my bag on the floor, sidle up next to my teammates to shake hands, and sign footballs and jerseys. After a bit, I notice Andie, Ms. Parks, is standing next to the table getting a bottle of water, and I excuse myself.
She notices my approach, and I see her stiffen as if she’s readying herself for battle. I don’t like that I make that happen. I’m not the guy I might have led her to believe I am.
“So I guess you knew what you were doing out there.” I nod, gesturing toward the field.
She shrugs. “Who knew?”
I survey the room, hoping no one is paying attention to our closeness. “I guess it might really be your big break after all.”
She crosses her arms over her chest as she peers up at me. “Look, if you’re so uncomfortable standing here talking to me, why did you come over? I’m certain it’s not to talk about my future prospects.”
I want to groan, but I keep it in. “I wanted to say I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be insensitive earlier today. I had no idea…about your situation.”
