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Of course that’s what I’m saying. I have plenty of regrets on the football field. Not throwing to Ronnie for the third time isn’t one of them. He wouldn’t have caught the ball if we were the only two players out there. He’s not clutch. Just like me.
Maybe that’s why he’s so pissed.
Instead of agreeing, I shake my head, determined to take the high road.
“Ronnie is a very talented player.” If you like divas who also have the emotional maturity of a toddler, then he’s great. “Our emotions were running high after the game, but I have tremendous respect for him. I’m sure he feels the same about me.”
Judy smiles at my blatant lie, which is a sure sign that I’ve mastered my media training.
Unfortunately, Ronnie hasn’t.
He must have been lurking in the hall, because he pops his head into the room and says, “You get paid to lose big games?”
I stiffen. It’s a theory that’s been tossed around before. A local radio guy suggested I was paid to lose after I threw eight interceptions in the divisional title game. The national media got a hold of the story and it blew up into this big thing. It was all speculation, obviously.
Eventually, an independent investigator took a fine-toothed comb to my finances. They concluded there was zero chance I had taken money to lose. As if I would ever lose on purpose.
Ronnie continues, “If he’s here next year, I won’t be. I’d rather sit the whole season than catch passes from this asshole.”
Nobody thinks I’m going to be on this team next year. Ronnie is under contract and I’m not, so it’s an empty threat.
It still makes for a juicy headline, though.
A few reporters follow Ronnie out of the room. The rest stir in their seats, desperate to go on air, or get in front of their computers, but uncertain the drama is over.
I give a tight smile. A funny quip would be useful. Unfortunately, my mind is blank. I’m struggling to stay upbeat. Losing sucks.
A guy in the front identifies himself, then says, “Would you care to share your plans for next season? There has been a lot of speculation about what you might do on the free agent market. Do you think this game has ruined your chance at a starting position?”
Shit. It’s a logical question. That doesn’t mean I want to answer it. Teams don’t want starting quarterbacks who play like a roller coaster, peaking in meaningless games and then plunging when it matters. I may very well have played my last game as a starter, but it’s virtually assured I’ll get picked up as a backup.
Backup. The word sits heavily in my gut. I don’t want to be a backup.
I should say something to deflect, but after today, I just can’t do it. “I might get a starting position. We all know there aren’t that many guys who can throw the ball at this level. I’m not anybody’s first choice, but someone might get stuck with me.”
“Stuck with you?” a voice shouts from the back.
“Four teams won two or less games this year. I’ve never been that bad.” Professional quarterbacks don’t grow on trees. “Those teams would be lucky to make it to the playoffs. Not every team is full of divas like Ronnie.”
So much for the high road.
Judy muscles her way to the front of the room. Her face is pinched. She hates it when players talk negatively about each other. You’d think she’d like it—it gives her a lot of work. Instead, she thinks it’s petty. I don’t disagree, but I’ve had a bad day and I’m struggling to hold onto my composure.
“Mr. Jones isn’t taking any more questions today. Please direct any inquiries you have to my office.”
She grabs my arm and drags me out of the room.
Judy’s good at her job, so instead of reprimanding me, she says, “Don’t worry about that. I’ll get a couple of guys talking about what a good teammate you are. Then someone else can mention how you work harder than everyone else. First one in. Last one out. Maybe I’ll get a coach out there talking about spreading the ball around. Utilizing every option.” She could go on for another ten minutes. She’s always five steps ahead.
“Hey. Can we talk tomorrow?”
She squeezes her eyes shut. “Yes. You know how it is. So many options.”
She’s in her element when things go south. Frequent opportunities to change the narrative make me her favorite client. She reaches out and pats my cheek.
“Totally shitty loss today. Get some rest. Things will look brighter in the morning.”
She doesn’t make empty promises. When she gets done spinning her magic, things will look better. Unfortunately, they won’t actually be better. I’ll still be responsible for a loss that could have been a win.
