44. Jackson
Jackson
Janette from PR stands up at the front of the room.
“So, I want your input on an idea that has been brought to my attention,” she says.
I look up, noticing that she is looking directly at me.
“How would everyone feel about a Military Appreciation Night?” Some of the guys look over in my direction, while others look at Janette and nod firmly.
“I was thinking we could do this as part of one of our upcoming home games,” she continues.
“I went ahead and put together a prototype of the jerseys you would wear for warm-ups.” She reaches down and holds up a striking camouflage Tidal Teals jersey.
We are trying to raise awareness for critical but invisible needs within the military.
PTSD is a serious condition that affects so many military personnel throughout their life.
It’s completely invisible, raising awareness by having these appreciation nights is letting these soldiers know that we support them, even with conditions affecting their daily survival.
I absolutely love this. This wasn’t just a charity event; this was a direct line to Splash.
It was a game plan. Donovan, who is sitting right next to me, holds out his fist for a silent bump.
“I hope this is the kind of thing you were thinking?” I love this team.
“It’s fucking perfect,” I said as I bumped his fist.
I waited until the PR meeting dispersed before catching Donovan by the equipment bags.
“Hey, Cap. Can I ask you something?” Donovan stopped, sensing the shift in my tone.
“Sure. What’s on your mind?” “Your brother… when he talks about being over there,” I started, looking down at the camouflage jersey still in my hands.
“Does he ever talk about the toll it takes? Not just the physical stuff, but the mental side? I just got a letter from Splash and… it sounded heavy. Like he’s carrying a lot at the moment.
” Donovan’s expression softened into something more somber.
“He doesn’t say much, but you see it in the eyes, Jackson.
It’s a different kind of exhaustion. You can fix a broken bone, but the things they see and the choices they have to make…
that kind of trauma doesn’t just wash off in the shower.
It changes the way they hear the wind, the way they sleep. It’s a heavy price.”
I clutched the jersey, the camouflage material feeling like a physical responsibility.
I couldn’t be there with Splash, couldn’t share the silence of his dark nights, but I could make the world here a little brighter for him.
I could make sure he knew he wasn’t alone.
The entire night—the lights, the crowd, the loud, chaotic energy of the stadium—it was all going to be my way of standing on his wing.
I wanted the noise of the home crowd to be so loud it drowned out the ringing in his ears, even across the world.