Chapter 25: Callaghan
The meet and greetwasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it would be. Sure, I’d rather be on the soccer field, but talking about my sport with adoring fans isn’t bad either.
I’m not sure how word spread so quickly that I was here. Granted, I’m not usually one for public appearances, but the fans were clamoring to see me. I think I would have enjoyed it more if Hannah had stayed with me.
I think I’d enjoy everything more with her by my side.
It would have been boring for her. Justice and Heaven, hanging out in the back of the room, looked like they wanted to go to sleep at one point. But they stayed through the event and then dinner.
The whole atmosphere of the meal was an odd juxtaposition, with the finest food and liquor flowing freely, while the guests of honor were dressed head to toe in athletic gear. The finest, naturally, but still, we’re all in t-shirts and sneakers. It didn’t stop the VIP treatment though.
I ended up seated next to hockey player Bastian St. Ames. His rookie season last year put him in some record books, naming him a phenom. I’m not sure if he’s even old enough to drink. Partway through the dinner he leans over. “Can you pinch me? I think I’m dreaming.”
Normally I’m not one to make small talk, but something about his blatant honesty prompts me to respond. “Right? Three days ago, I was contemplating if my shoulder had ended my career.”
I blame the whiskey for that admission.
“You hurt?”
Reflexively, I rub my shoulder. I can’t quite feel it.
I’ve had a lot of whiskey.
“Yeah, separated my AC. But I haven’t told anyone. Just got named to the National Team and don’t want to jeopardize my spot, ya know?”
“Totally. That could be the end for you. At least you have this now, though. Frankly, if they’re going to pay us to be pretty, it might be worth it to retire. You ever think about that?”
Even in my inebriated state, I know the answer. “No, man. I can’t picture a life without soccer.”
“But you can’t play forever. What then?”
There’s a fog in my brain. The room is dim, almost hazy. Or maybe I’ve had way too much to drink. Images are swirling around and for the first time, I don’t see myself in goal. I’m on the sidelines, clipboard in hand.
Whoa. I must be drunk because I’d be the worst coach ever. There’s no way that would ever be a reality.
I shrug. “Not sure. No plans to quit. What about you?”
“Imma buy a house by the beach and get myself a boat. That’s why I took this endorsement. Consider it a down payment.”
“You’re going tropical? Aren’t you Canadian? And didn’t you just get started?”
“Listen, my feet have been cold my whole life. I want to stick them in hot sand and bake away with my woman by my side. I’ve worked hard, and one day, it’ll be time to sit back and relax. This is a finite period of time in my life, and I have a plan for after. Life will go on if I’m not at the rink. I actually think it’ll be when my life will finally start.”
Bastian’s words roll through my head for the rest of the dinner.
The dinner is finally over, and Justice walks me outside. We’re on the Upper East Side. I suppose I could walk back to the hotel, but I order an Uber instead.
When my life will finally start.
Soccer is my life. There’s nothing else.
Except ... maybe there is, and maybe I’m heading toward it now.
