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Kendall
The only thingmore frustrating than watching a game slip away from us was watching that shit happen two weeks in a row.
After a strong 5-1 start to the season, it was honestly beginning to feel like shit was ours for the taking. But with back-to-back losses now added to our record thanks to poor protection on defense and not nearly enough production on offense to make up for the deficit, we’d been humbled in the worst way, a scowl on my face as I sat in the locker room after the game listening to our head coach spew the same ol’ shit.
We needed to work harder.
We needed to get more focused.
We needed to execute better.
It was all so general, all so…basic. And I suppose it was for that reason that Hawk decided to step in with a little message of his own once our head coach was finished, getting in the defense’s asses when he cussed them out and then handed the invisible mic over to me to do the same with the offense.
Except, I couldn’t really blame them.
They’d mostly done what they were supposed to do today.
It was me who’d made the wrong call one too many times,mewho’d misfired on passes that should’ve been easy dimes,mewho’d fucked up. And I was man enough to acknowledge that when I patted myself on the chest and said, “My bad, fellas. This one’s on me. But ay, this losing shit stops right here, aight?”
There was a chorus of agreement as my squad stood up to go hands all in. And after a strong “Skyhawks” on three, everyone dispersed to do different things.
Some people headed straight to the showers.
Others started getting ready for the media members who were about to enter the locker room for soundbite interviews.
And then there were people like me who needed to be doing both of those things but got distracted when I checked my phone and saw two messages from Shakira.
According to the time stamp, she’d sent them way before the game had even started. But the content was still relevant all these hours later, a smirk on my face as I stared at the picture of her hand that was posed in a way to show off her fluorescent nails and then read the accompanying text that said,“Glow in the dark acrylics. Tell me you see the vision.”
Since her pretty ass hands wrapped around my dick with the lights out was literally the first thing that had come to my mind before I’d even read her message, it was easy for me to reply,“I see it, Shake. Wit’ your freaky ass lol.”Then I put my phone down so that I could at least get out of my uniform and shoulder pads before the media came in, only to pick it right back up when I saw the screen illuminate with a new notification.
“You only see it cause your ass is freaky too lol.” - Shakira
“It’s why we work so well.” - Kendall
“Facts ;).” - Shakira
Grinning, I tucked my phone away just as our team’s beat writer approached me asking, “Snoop Dogwood is actually smiling after a loss? That’s a shocker.”
“Nah, my smile has nothing to do with the game,” I told him, not at all surprised when he immediately stuck his iPhone that was already recording near my face and followed up, “Care to elaborate?”
“I don’t,” I answered flatly. “Now what else you got for me?”
Pursing his lips together, he gave a subtle eye roll before diving into the real questions he had about today’s loss. And by the time I’d answered his few, several other writers had gathered around to ask questions of their own, the steady flow of traffic keeping me busy until our team’s media coordinator pulled me away so that I could finally take a quick shower and then head to the press room for a more official postgame interview, which was really just more of the same.
A group of folks asking different versions of the same three questions.
What happened?
Why do you think it happened?
And what do you plan on doing to make sure that shit doesn’t happen again?
My brain was lowkey on autopilot as I gave a bunch of answers that could only be described as corporately sufficient. And even though I honestly wasn’t trying to be rude, I couldn’t seem to fix the bored expression on my face until I heard a semi-familiar voice say, “Hey, Snoop. In the spirit of Halloween, can you tell us what childhood costume you look back on as being one of your favorites? And as a follow-up, do you have any pictures in said costume?”
The question was so random that I couldn’t help but chuckle a little bit as I found one of my favorite reporters, the host ofBeyond the Bench with Bleu Taylor, sitting in the middle of the crowd and answered, “I’m sure my mama has pictures somewhere. But my favorite Halloween costume would probably have to be the year my popsfinallylet me wear one of his old UT jerseys.”
While Bleu smiled and nodded, I continued, “It was so big that I had to tuck it into my drawers. But I was so excited to be wearing his stuff that it didn’t even matter.”
