4. Ryder
Ryder
The past couple of days have been miserable. Practice has picked up even more in intensity now that the season is official. The heat has been unbearable in the stadium as we’ve begun amping up for those Sunday one o’clock games in the sun, and there’s no one I can talk to about this situation.
This reminds me a lot of my first couple of weeks at Clemson.
I was the new guy then, just like I am now, and it sucks.
When they say first impressions are last impressions, they really mean it when it comes to team sports.
The only problem is that the first impression lasts weeks and, most times, months.
Being a rookie professional player means the upper management believes you might be able to succeed at this elevated level, not that you already have.
In college, I was considered a star on the team, one of the best, but here everyone is a star, and everyone is the best. I’m now competing against players who are faster, stronger, and more experienced. They will do anything to retain their spot and not lose it. It’s all part of the dream.
As a rookie, now is the time when coaches want to see how smart I am and if I can learn the playbook quickly.
They’re keeping a close eye on my character to see how I handle pressure and criticism, while staying humble and not getting defensive.
They watch us on and off the field to see how disciplined we are and how we behave in public.
And, well, mostly, I have to earn the team’s trust and contribute to the overall locker-room environment.
But being here, with this thrown at me, now not only do I have to dazzle them with the rookie first impression, but I also feel another layer because I have to prove myself even more to the team and the fans to be worthy of this large campaign.
It’s a lot of pressure, and no one wants to hear me complaining about a marketing campaign that anyone else would give their firstborn for.
Complaining about a girl.
I even want to punch myself in the face.
Letting out a deep sigh, I mentally close all the boxes in my brain pertaining to Alice, as I shift gears to emotionally prepare for what I’m about to do.
Today is the first event: the photo shoot.
It’s in the same room where I came for my individual team photo.
It’s a large room, and it’s permanently set up like a studio, complete with backdrops, lighting, props, a studio-like setting for interviews, and changing rooms. I was elated when I stood here before, donned in my new professional uniform.
How could I not be? I’ve worked incredibly hard to get here. But today, all I feel is dread.
Shake it off, Ryder.
Shake. It. Off.
I roll my shoulders back and tilt my head from side to side, hoping for that crack of relief.
I know how to keep my composure. I know how to be professional. I’ve had plenty of experience over the years mentally blocking her out, and this will be no different.
This is just another day.
Another assignment.
Truth is, I don’t know her anymore, and she doesn’t know me. Her face may look familiar, but the reality is, she’s a stranger. A stranger I want nothing to do with.
I can do this.
Stephen, from brand management, is the first person to spot me when I enter the room.
He nods, and I make my way toward him, taking in all of the chaos.
There are a lot of people, and there’s a lot more activity buzzing around than when I was here before.
Gretchen has a swarm of marketing people around her, and there are set design people, technical people, the photographer and a videographer, and the stylist people, including hair and makeup, which is where I find Alice.
She looks as indifferent as I do, and for some reason, this brings me a small amount of joy.
We may be strangers, but I can still read her. She’s faking it until she makes it too.
But then again, maybe she’s not. Maybe I’m the only one having a hard time with this arrangement. A huff leaves me, and internally, I shake my head. Wouldn’t that be fitting—just like old times. Me worked up over her, while she couldn’t care less.
For years, I’ve had Alice blocked on social media.
It wasn’t necessarily that I didn’t want her to see me.
I just didn’t want to see anything to do with her or her with someone else.
But I would be lying if I said I didn’t go down the rabbit hole after our meeting earlier in the week, starting with the Mighty Monarchs.
Of course she would start a nonprofit youth cheerleading team.
I read every word on every page of the website, lingering on the mission statement, “The Mighty Monarchs’ mission is to provide inclusive cheerleading opportunities that build character, confidence, sportsmanship, leadership, athleticism, and community involvement for local youth.
” The pictures are filled with happy youth, all wearing lavender T-shirts with a teal butterfly and the Monarchs logo and black compression shorts.
There’s happiness and laughter, cheer formations, and even one where a high schooler is holding a large scholarship check for five thousand dollars.
Pride did diffuse through my walled-off heart. How could it not? She’s out there making a difference. She and this other girl I don’t know, who is clearly her business partner and friend.
It’s weird that she and I don’t know the same people anymore.
Being thrust back into her life, it’s strange to me that she has friends at all.
I never really saw her with other people, only me.
But there the two of them, Alice and this girl, were again the night after our meeting, toasting their secret new sponsor. One they couldn’t wait to announce.
I went home and had a horrible evening, and she went out and celebrated. It just figures.
My gaze follows her sight line, and I see she’s staring at a series of mock-ups, which have her and me in different poses.
Poses that make my entire body seize up.
Why? Why do I need to be photographed with her on my back or me holding her bridal style?
People don’t want to see this. Heat climbs into my cheeks.
I know they’re red. It’s the Scandinavian in me, and always my flashing neon sign about my emotions.
My heart aches that I’m being forced into this, but more than that, I’m angry too. Angry that this dream I’ve had my whole life has now been hijacked with the one person in the world I never wanted to see again.
Alice’s gaze cuts to me, and my entire body feels like it’s been electrocuted. This makes me even angrier, and the stress radiating from me forces two wrinkle lines to strike between my brows as my eyes narrow in distaste. Why do I still have to react so strongly to her?
“Alice!” Gretchen says, breaking away from her entourage and pulling me out of my internal meltdown. “We have a surprise for you, and Ryder, I’m glad you’re finally here. It’s time to get this shoot started!” she says, full of enthusiasm.
Finally here? I showed up ten minutes early.
Alice hops out of the makeup chair, and I watch as Gretchen leads her over to the two changing rooms and to a rack of clothes that I didn’t notice before.
My eyes damn near bulge, and I have to keep my jaw from coming unhinged.
I didn’t see the rack because the clothes are so small they’re almost nonexistent.
“I spoke to the uniform department and had all of yours brought over for today.”
“Oh, wow,” Alice exclaims, completely in awe, as she gently looks through at least six different sets.
“These are so pretty,” she gushes, looking at Gretchen like she’s Santa Claus on Christmas morning.
She pulls one out. It’s silver with some teal embellishments, and my teeth grind together. “Is this one new?” she asks.
“Yes, and I love how they made the large sequins on the top look like fish scales. It’s elegant, yet you’ll be able to move around with no problem.”
While the top looks like any normal athletic girl top, my eyes zero in on the shorts. How can those even be called shorts? I understand girls wear boyshorts, but those look like a strip of fabric that I would wear as a sweatband on my head. How could those possibly cover enough to keep her decent?
I growl and then realize that was audible as Stephen looks at me strangely.
“Ryder, you’re already familiar with yours, if you wouldn’t mind, go ahead and change into the home game uniform.”
I make my way over, grab the uniform, feeling everyone’s eyes on me, and go hide inside the tiny changing room. There’s a single folding chair, and I drop down on it and hang my head. I’m grateful for the reprieve, but I can still hear all of them.
“Alice, Ryder has three uniforms for today: home, away, and throwback. You’re going to be changing more frequently than him.
We want to make sure that any idea we might come up with during the season, we’ve got our yards covered.
Get it, yards not bases?” She laughs at her own joke.
“Let’s go with this one first. While he’s getting individuals, we’ll put you back in the chair for hair. ”
Individuals? Don’t they already have enough of those? I let out a deep sigh, kick off my shoes, and pull off my clothes. I wonder how many times I’ve put on a uniform in my lifetime? And for the first time, I dread it.
Socks. Girdle. Compression shirt.
Pants. Shoulder pads. Jersey.
Cleats. Gloves.
Once I’m dressed, hair and makeup spend about three minutes on me, and I’m directed to stand in the middle of the drop cloth.
The poses are mostly identical to the ones I took before, and unfortunately, once Alice is dressed and ready, she’ll be moved to stand directly in front of me.
Discreetly, I watch as they finish with her and spray her curled hair, which is longer than I remember her ever keeping it.