Page 67 of Going for Two
A little boy near us was screaming my name and waving a foam football and a marker. I walked over to him to sign what he was holding before returning to Caleb.
“They love you,” he observed. “I just hope I can fill the big shoes you’re leaving behind.”
Guilt clawed at my throat, reminding me that I was clinging to something for selfish reasons and ignoring the signs that it was time to go. “You will. You have so much talent.”
“You’ve done so much for me. I wish I had a few more years to learn from you,” Caleb continued, conflicting my emotions even further.
I reached over to grasp his shoulder. “Maybe you will. We will just have to see.”
I watched the confusion cross his face before I turned to leave him, only to come face to face with Harper Nelson, one of the ESPN reporters.
“Hi, Nolan!” Harper’s megawatt television smile nearly blinded me. “Do you have a second for a few questions? I won’t take up too much of your time, I know you’re trying to get ready for the game.”
Normally, I avoided reporters before the game and most of the time reporters understood that. But I respected the hustle that Harper Nelson had. She worked harder than nearly all her peers and she was half the age of most of them.
“Sure,” I told her.
Harper looked surprised that I agreed for only a split second before she snapped back into her professional demeanor and flipped her notes app open on her phone.
“You were vocal at the end of last season that this would be your last. But with a season plagued with injury, I’m sure you would agree that this hasn’t been the ideal final season for someone like Nolan Hill.” Harper looked up at me expectantly, awaiting my answer.
“I would agree that this season hasn’t quite met the hopes that I originally had for it,” I told her.
Harper powered on with her next question. She didn’t dance around players’ responses because with every conversation she was on a mission to achieve the one goal she set out with at the start: to find a good story. “Is it true you are considering coming back next year? Reports from the Bobcats are that you may be coming back for one more year.”
And there it is.
Had Gary tipped her off?
Anger flared through me that my choice to make that public had been taken from me. I knew this was all business, but for me, this was my life.
I now had two choices. I could either tell her that I had no plans of coming back next year to play and use that as an opportunity to put the coaching staff on the spot with my offer to take over the quarterbacks coaching position, or I could tell her that I had started to consider what that might look like if I came back for another season. Both would have consequences I’d have to live with. The question was which one I truly wanted.
“I’ve had conversations about coming back next year and I’m exploring all avenues of what makes sense for me and my career,” I finally told her.
Judging by the way Harper’s eyebrows shot up, she wasn’t expecting an answer like that from me. I hadn’t indicated at all this entire season with any of the press that I’d been thinking of rescinding my idea of retiring.
“Thank you.” I excused myself while she was still shocked from my response before I could potentially stumble into any other situations.
As I walked back to the locker room to change into my uniform, I knew phones across the country would be notified with my response to Harper Nelson’s question in minutes. Analysts would dissect my response and play out every angle. Fans would either support or put down the idea of me coming back. Gary Martinez would get excited that I might just be considering his offer.
But what no one truly understood was how hard this season had been for me. Not many people had to face the end of their careers so early in their life and be forced to pivot into something else. The average person celebrated the end of their career with retirement—a true retirement where they went onan extended vacation or played too many rounds of golf. I didn’t have that luxury, because while I was paid a lot for my time in the NFL, I still wanted an income for when I wanted to start a family or take care of my parents when they inevitably needed the help.
That comment would be scrutinized by many across the nation because it was easy for others to add their opinion on someone else’s life simply because it took the focus off their own. I didn’t feel I deserved to be judged or crucified over struggling with a decision only a few thousand people ever had to make.
Even still, I knew I’d be facing a reckoning once this game was over.
The locker room had emptied a while ago as I continued to sit in my cubby, replaying the win in my head and the reality that I was heading toward my third NFC Championship game of my career—one step away from the Super Bowl.
No one had brought up my comment to Harper during the game, but I noticed the way the coaches snuck glances at me as if I were a jackpot that they were a dice roll away from winning in Las Vegas.
“Are you really considering playing again next year?” a soft voice asked me from the entry of the locker room.
Lottie stood in the doorway, looking much smaller than her full height, as if she weren’t sure if she should be here or not. My heart sank when I noticed the hurt that she was trying her hardest to keep from showing on her face.
I crossed the room in three quick strides until I was only a foot from her, close enough to notice the tear stains on her cheeks.
Who the hell made her cry?