Chapter 45 Griffin
Griffin
It’s game day, and the first Wardens home game Griffin won’t attend since he signed with the team. He considered dragging himself out of the condo and watching from the bench—Elliott even encouraged him to do so—but he simply couldn’t bring himself to do it.
In general, he hasn’t been able to drag himself to do much since he got home earlier this week. If he’s honest, it scares him a little how unlike himself he is at this point. He’s abandoned his routine, eats off schedule—even his small home gym seems to be mocking him.
Is this who he is without football?
Griffin knew things might get tough, but this is beyond what he prepared for.
He flips on the television, hopeful for a distraction, and the game is already underway.
The Wardens are up 14–7, and a pang of guilt runs through him.
He really should be there. Not only is he a broken mess without football; he’s also a bad friend to his teammates, his friends.
Griffin shuts off the television when the first quarter ends; he just can’t take the reminder that football, the Wardens, everything that’s been his world, is moving on without him.
Griffin wonders how long it’ll take for the team to forget him, how long it will take for the fans to forget him. He seems to already have forgotten himself.
When his phone starts to ring across the room, Griffin considers letting it go to voicemail like he does often nowadays, but something inside him whispers to him, Go get it.
Griffin begrudgingly gets up and slings his crutches under his arms. Despite his worsening mood, physical therapy has been going well, and Griffin’s mobility is improving day by day.
It doesn’t hold any great implications for what he will—or won’t—be able to do on the field or in the future of his career, but it does allow him to better manage his everyday activities.
On the phone screen scrolls the name “Coach Pete.”
Coach Pete is the head coach over at South Shore High, and stopping by their practice earlier this week was the one thing that’s kept Griffin afloat.
The players were thrilled to meet him, and he was able to sit down and talk to them after practice.
It wasn’t the same as being back on the field, but afterward, Griffin felt like he’d made some difference, been purposeful for the first time in a while.
And the proximity to the game didn’t hurt either.
“Griffin, hey! How’s the knee?”
“Old news by now, I’d say,” Griffin says, desperate to talk about anything but his injury. “How’s the team?”
“I’ll tell you what, they’re holding themselves differently after your visit. Not a one of them showed up late to practice, and every player came focused, dressed, and gave it their best.”
“That’s wonderful. I have to say it was a blast for me too. Really brought me back to my high school days. Some really fun times.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear that because I’m calling with another ask.”
“Shoot.” Griffin drops down onto the closest part of his sectional couch, then settles the crutches on the ground.
“We’re wanting to put on a nice little senior luncheon—doesn’t even have to be a luncheon, a reception is great—for our end of season.
These guys work so hard, and for a lot of them, this will be their last season ever.
The problem is that the department doesn’t have the budget to do it.
We had no choice but to fork over a hefty sum to condition the field this year; it was so bad the guys were getting hurt, their feet catching in holes in the ground.
I understand if it’s too much to ask, but—”
“Yes. Of course. I’m happy to help.”
Coach Pete lets out a sigh of relief. “You’re a godsend. And we’re not asking for anything flashy—just some help making the guys feel celebrated for their hard work and dedication to the program, an occasion to borrow their dad’s tie and put on a button-down shirt. A little cake and punch.”
“Maybe I can recruit some of the other guys?”
“We’re grateful for anything. You bring more Wardens, and the guys might not even care about cake.”
Griffin laughs—the first time he’s done so since he was at the high school earlier this week. “I’m not about to show up without cake, even if the entire team was behind me. Let me get to work, and I’ll get back to you with some plans.”
“Thank you,” Coach Pete says. “This will be a memory that stays with the players for their entire lives, I just know it.”
After the call ends, Griffin settles back on the couch. Eventually he flips the television back on to the Wardens game. The commentators are chattering after Elliott just caught a touchdown pass.
“The team is really stepping up in the absence of tight end Griffin Hayes.”
“Has there been any news on his recovery?”
“Ah well, you know that knee was blown out several years ago, and the rate of success in a second comeback is slim. Of course, we’re all hopeful to see Griffin Hayes back out on the field, but will he ever be back to pro-league condition? I’m not convinced.”
“Griffin’s been a powerhouse for a long time; maybe it’s a natural end to a vibrant career.”
“Don’t let him hear you say that! All the messaging from the team and his personal channels is that he’s focused on making a comeback and resuming his position with the Wardens.”
Griffin’s heart hammers in his chest, a sickness swelling inside him, as if he’d just overheard someone gossiping about him.
The commentators are there for the fans at home, but of course they’re aware that everything they say gets back to the players, team, and staff. It’s a business, not a social club.
It’s also not like Griffin hasn’t been aware of this reality—that this injury could mean the end of his career.
But hearing it broadcast for the entire world over the film of his team killing it on the field without him feels like the sun of his world being eclipsed.
He cuts the television off, curls up on the couch, and pulls the blanket over his head.
In the darkness, he brings his phone screen to life and deletes his sports networks apps, the ones that push scores and professional league news.
The relief that follows lets him pull in a deep breath, so he takes it a step further and deletes the social media apps where career-end speculation will undoubtedly be circulated too.
Griffin promises himself that all he’ll focus on is the event for the South Shore football players. If he thinks about pro football or the Wardens for much longer, he might not ever come back.
And when he does open social media again, it’ll probably be to check in on Aria, to see what magic she’s been up to.
Despite everything he’s dealing with, he misses her terribly.