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“Well, you know. Pre-game motivational talk.”
“Right! Anyway. Pick the first suit to your left.”
“Funny. That’s exactly the one I was going to choose. Great minds think alike.”
“And the great mind I'm speaking to will be very late if he doesn’t get off the phone now. Have fun, David, and text me later,” I say softly. Shit. Why am I telling him to text me later? What am I, his girlfriend?
I toss the keys of the Ferrari to the valet and am about to enter the venue, a massive theater, when Scott catches up with me.
“Hey, David. How’s it hanging?”
“It’s hanging,” I reply, something I learned from Willie.
“Let’s head in then and see what the scene is like,” Scott winks.
The good mood that I was in disappeared as I enter the main area. All the banners and posters decorating the venue feature Javier Romero up front. My name is not even mentioned anywhere.
“What the hell is this, Scott?” I ask, annoyed.
“It seems like a…” Scott leans in to read the text on a poster. “Javier Romero, welcome to the American League. What the hell?”
“So, you're telling me that I'm at an event, welcoming my fiercest, most hated rival to America?” I wince.
“David. I swear. When I spoke to the representatives of the shoe company, they didn’t mention anything about this. Let me see what’s going on,” Scott turns away and starts punching numbers on his cellphone.
And so the games begin. I take a deep breath and tell myself to be calm. Carrie’s words run through my head and a sense of calm rushes through me. I wish she was here. Shit, why didn’t I invite her along?
“These bastards!” Scott comes back. “They won’t admit it. They keep saying it’s a sponsor event where a lot of players are invited. But I know that this is a setup. they're just trying to gain maximum media leverage out of the rivalry between you two.”
“Technically this is an official sponsor event,” I look around at the numerous logos of the shoe company that enrich my wallet by tens of millions every year.
“But they know what they're doing man. they're hoping that you and Javier would get into some sort of a fight so they can capitalize on that. You know how brands are all about viral content nowadays.”
“Yeah, I get that Scott, I'm not stupid.” I give Scott a firm look.
“We can leave, David. You don’t have to be here. There’s nothing in your contract with them that says that you've got to attend such random events.” Scott turns, ready to exit the premises.
“Think about it, Scott.” I lean in to put some sense in my manager’s head. “Leaving the venue now would make for a much bigger story. David Adams refuses to attend the event where his rival is being presented. That would make me look like a wanker and I can’t have that.”
“But…” I can see the concern on Scott’s face and it irks me. What do Scott and Shauna think I am?
“Scott. We are going in. I can handle all this rubbish. If I can’t face him at a party then how the hell will I play against him?” Straightening my coat jacket, I take confident steps into the main hall.
I’m happy the first person who greets me is Willie. We joke around for a bit then head to the bar where I once again refrain from alcohol.
“Man, how come you're such a good boy nowadays?”
“Well, we’ve got the playoffs coming up soon, so it’s time to get serious, innit?” I reply.
“Man, I never thought I’d see this side of you. What happened to the man who proclaimed training was for boys?”
“Training is for boys and winning is for men and I want to win that bloody trophy and that bloody MVP award.” There is resolution in my heart as I speak and I even surprise myself by how serious I am.
“Damn, bro, you’re not kidding about this, ain’t you? Shit, I'm so pumped. We’re gonna win that damn cup, man. I can already see it.” He punches his palm in excitement.
“Ease up, mate. We still have a few matches to play before that. Let’s take it one game at a time.”
“Yeah, you’re right, man. Look, there he is,” Willie nods to his right and then I see him. Surprisingly, I don’t feel a thing. No resentment, no nervousness, nothing.
