The Big Time

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

TROY LOOKED UP AT his mom. She inclined her head toward Seth, signaling for Troy to go. Troy followed Seth down the concrete hallway for a bit, stopping in a quiet corner where two metal doors opened into another section. Seth turned to face Troy, his long dark hair still wet from the shower. His face-Troy saw now-was drawn not only from pain and exhaustion but from sadness. Troy jammed his left hand into his pocket and clutched his father's business card. Somehow, it gave him comfort.

"Hey," Seth said, the word without tone or meaning.

"Seth, I'm sorry," Troy said, blurting out his apology.

Seth grimaced and held up a hand for Troy to stop. "Please. I'm the one who's sorry. How I acted out there, well, it wasn't fair to you."

"Seth," Troy said, "you're right, though. Without you, none of this would have happened. The Falcons never would have given me a chance. Without you, Tate and Nathan and I wouldn't be champs. Our team never could have gotten into the junior league playoffs, let alone win the whole thing."

"But I didn't coach the team because I wanted you to help me with the plays," Seth said. "I mean, I wanted you to help me, but that's not why I coached you guys. I had fun. I like you, Troy, and Nathan and Tate. And I love your mom. I wanted to help just to help, and I had a heck of a lot of fun doing it."

"Even with all the rumors in the newspaper?" Troy said, thinking of the scandal and the damage to Seth's reputation when the paper and others in the media falsely accused him of being a steroid user.

"Yeah," Seth said. "Even with that. Good things don't usually come easy, you know. There's almost always a price."

"Gramps said something like that to me just yesterday," Troy said, releasing the card to motion excitedly. "He said, 'Anything worth having is worth fighting for.'"

"See?" Seth said. "Great minds think alike. So, yeah, it was worth it, even with the trouble. And you and I are okay now. With this. You've got an incredible gift, and I don't want anyone to ruin it for you, especially me. I want you to use it and have fun and make all the money you can. Buy that house for you and your mom. Get her that Benz we talked about. And I don't want you worrying about me, because I'll be fine."

"Are you mad at the Falcons?" Troy asked.

"Nah," Seth said, "it's business, this NFL thing. They've got to win or they're gone, too. It's just how it is. But if that's the way they're going to play it, then you get yourself the best doggone agent out there and hammer them on a long-term deal, okay? I can have my agent give you a call if you want. John Marchiano. The guy is honest and good. That's what you need."

"Well," Troy said, thinking of his father and the card in his pocket. "Maybe. I was thinking of getting a lawyer instead."

Seth pulled his head back and gave Troy a curious look. "How about you? Talking agents and lawyers."

"Just an idea," Troy said, shrugging.

"Well, Marchiano is a lawyer, too, so you're all set."

"Maybe," Troy said, wavering.

"Well, whatever you and your mom decide," Seth said. "Not my business, really."

"Is this it for you, Seth?" Troy asked, his eyes wandering down to the ice bags packed to either side of both knees.

"I'm not going to say that," Seth said, shifting his weight from one bad leg to the other with discomfort. "Today, well, I didn't have it, but I've seen guys come back, get better. They're not usually my age, but it can happen."

"So, you want to keep playing?" Troy asked.

Seth heaved a long, tired sigh but nodded his head slowly as he released his breath. "I do. I know a few days ago I said I was tired and sore and all that, but being pulled from that game today? That made me realize how much I want to keep doing it. So, I'll get to work on these bad joints and see if I can't get the swelling down enough to get back into running shape. If not this week then the next, or the week after that. The way we're going with you, it looks like we're headed for the playoffs, so I'm not going to give up until the day after the Super Bowl, because if we're in it and there's any way at all I can play, you better believe I'll be there. Even if it's just to block on the punt team."

Seth smiled at him, and for a moment it outshone his weariness. Then the spark went out. Troy felt an ache in his chest for the man who he could only dream of getting an autograph from a few months ago.

"I get that," Troy said. "Seth?"

"Yeah?"

"What about this Border War game?" Troy asked. "Do you think you'll still be able to coach that?"

Seth smiled painfully and said, "Funny thing about me is that when I say I'll do something, I never back out. Plus, if my career is over, it won't hurt me to have the top coaches in the SEC see me in action either. You never know where your first break in that business is going to come. Yeah, I'm coaching. And you're playing, right? Even though you're in the big time now with an agent or a lawyer or whatever?"

"Sure I'm playing," Troy said. "I'd love to go to Georgia, and like you said, those coaches will be watching, so…"

"Okay, good," Seth said, shuffling toward the door. "Now, I'm headed home."

"I thought my mom was going to pick up some ribs from Fat Matt's and we were going to watch the Sunday night game?" Troy said.

Seth let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "I've had enough football for one day. Tell your mom thanks, and I'll call her later."

"Won't she be kind of mad?" Troy asked, glancing over his shoulder at where his mom now stood talking to her boss.

"Not her," Seth said. "That's one of the reasons I love her. She doesn't get bent out of shape about little things like that. She knows how I get about being hurt. I'm not good company right now. Besides, I need to just get home and get to work on these knees."

Seth reached into the front pocket of his jeans and removed a pill bottle that he shook gently at Troy. "I've got some heavy-duty medicine and an appointment with a bucket of ice in my tub. Speaking of ice, you'd better stick your finger in some, too."

"Medicine? Like painkillers?" Troy asked, his forehead crunching up with concern.

"No," Seth said, stuffing the amber plastic bottle into his pocket and beginning to walk away again, "an anti-inflammatory. Same stuff they give to racehorses."

Troy's jaw went slack, but before he could say anything else, Seth had disappeared. He sensed Tate at his side and turned to see that his mom and Nathan were also there.

"How is he?" Troy's mom asked, her eyes following the arc of the metal door as it swung closed. "Was he mad?"

"He said he'd call you later, Mom," Troy said. "Mad? No, he wasn't mad. I'd say more like hurt."

"Mentally?" his mom asked. "Or physically?"

Troy looked at his mom. "I'd have to say both."