Touchdown Therapy

"Real men don't fumble?" I inquisitively ask him. "Is that why Frank Gore had two fumbles in 2007, yet managed to gain 1102 yards with 260 attempts?"

"And real men don't make mistakes?" I half state and half question, "What about Tom Brady? In sixteen games he allowed eight interceptions, yet attained 4806 yards with 50 touchdowns."

"Are you educating me on football?" he teases. At least I knew he was smiling again which gave me some comfort.

"We could switch the topic to tennis" I return.

"Pu-lease, tennis? Let's just discuss baseball while we're at it" he sarcastically responds.

I didn't get it. "I like baseball," I state.

It brought him back to life. "Jessica, don't even TRY to compare baseball and tennis players to football players. These guys are the toughest sports players out there, hands down. They play to win, in rain, in sleet, in snow, in fog - in any condition."

"Wow, sounds committed" I respond. "Almost like there are no limits. Maybe, it's because they want that 'victory' bad enough nothing would stop them, not even the coldest of weather."

Yet another long pause.

He was thinking. He was understanding. He was reflecting. He was getting it, getting the fact that for anything to work, it took a football player's dedication - to play it out, even in the harshest of conditions.

"Then why is it that you can be that team player, you can play by the rules, you can strategize, you can do all you need to do, and yet still, ultimately, lose the game?"

The million dollar question; I knew it was coming. I didn't want to belabor the point, but, it did deserve some attention. The question was valid. I had emphasized all the things he needed to do to win the game. I would always emphasize winning the game over anything else, but, I wouldn't be a sister and friend if I didn't tell him the other side.

He needed to know his first priority should be to play the game; to play to win, and follow the rules. But simultaneously, he needed to understand that sometimes, no matter what, we will lose a particular game. It seems we do everything right. We follow the rules. We practice. We stick it out in the harshest of conditions. But still, we don't win this one. I knew I had to respond. I didn't want to be negative or discouraging. But, I did want to be realistic. As I went back and forth in my mind as to how I should answer this question, he said,

"Maybe we just don't play well - with those particular players."

I pride myself on being an articulate person, yet, all I could respond was "yeah, maybe."

But, he was right. No matter how hard you try, your heart isn't into it - the game that is.

I ask him, "When you're playing the game, are you enjoying it? Really enjoying it? Are you playing for the love of the game? Or, are you playing just to play? Just because? Because, if you're not playing for the love of the game, you're not doing any justice to your team mates. Frankly, you're just wasting their time."

He was silent. His mind was in over drive. It was now almost 1:00 a.m. and we were both exhausted. He didn't waste any time. As I lay my head back onto my pillow, I could hear his rhythmic breathing. I closed my eyes with the phone pressed to my ear in case he woke and wanted to share any other random thoughts that came to his mind. I knew he'd be okay; a light bulb had gone off for him today.

Four days, four teas, and four games later, New England was playing Jacksonville. We met at the local bar to watch the game. He looked refreshed; like he had spent the last few days at a spa. It's amazing what clarity can do to a person.

As we placed our order for nachos and drinks, my brother informed me that his co-worker would be joining us.. I knew him; I had met him a couple of times at various social gatherings in the past. He was a nice enough guy.

The nachos and co-worker arrived simultaneously. I took the first bite of my nacho and looked at Mr. co-worker's face; I immediately felt a sense of deja-vu. What was the familiarity? Where was it coming from? Then, it hit me - the nacho! It was stale, and it matched his mood.

"Are you alright?" my brother asked his colleague, obviously noticing his demeanor the way I had.

"Fine," he replied.

Mr. co-worker's left hand reached out to pick up his drink revealing a bare ring finger; a space that was once occupied by a wedding band. He turned his attention to the game.

I looked across the table at my brother and shook my head. He didn't need me here; he could handle this on his own now. I finished my drink and gave in to a couple more stale nachos, said my goodbyes and got up to leave.

My brother walked me to my car, "Thanks for the touchdown therapy," he says, half smiling.

"Anytime," I reply, contented I was able to assist him in finding some peace and clarity.

"You don't have to leave," he says.

"I know, but I wanted to give you guys some privacy. And you're a pro now! You don't need me!"

"So what do you think of football now?" he asks.

"I have to admit, I love it! I can't believe Tom Brady completed 26 pf 28 passes! New England can't be stopped! I don't understand why Jacksonville's defense remained the same the majority of the game. Every single play they dropped back into coverage. Why would they do that?"

There was a longer than normal - lengthy pause.

"Ummm," he says.

I realized what had happened. I couldn't stop laughing, the type of laughter that hurts the stomach, invokes tears, and eventually makes it difficult to breathe. He was looking at me as if I were an alien. He tried to make some metaphoric sense of the words that had come from my mouth! The last few days were so sentimental and 'deep,'I had forgotten to tell him. I really did just like the game of football...

Touchdown Therapy - Page 1

Article Submitted by:
Jessica Gera

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