Eighty-Two
UNTIL NOW, ONLY Vince Tarplay knew about the call I’d gotten from Gus Blasingame, the tryout he’d finally arranged for me this coming Saturday morning at the Steelers practice facility, the UPMC Rooney Sports Complex at the University of Pittsburgh.
“This is a Hail Mary, I want you to know that,” Blasingame had said on the phone yesterday.
I’d told him I still remembered how to pray, at least when the occasion merited that sort of thing.
The Steelers had already lost their two best edge rushers in training camp.
None of their rookies had shown themselves to be anywhere near ready for the big time in the two preseason games the team had played.
I’d been reading about that, still keeping up with the Steelers pretty much every day.
So last week—my own Hail Mary—I’d sent the coach video of the football drills Vince and I had been doing just about every morning, usually right after the sun came up, in a field behind Vince’s house.
Something else only the two of us, Vince and me, knew about.
The video showed me trying to reinvent myself as a defensive lineman, the main reason why I’d been working out like a complete madman in the gym before taking it outside to the field.
“This is probably the craziest idea either one of us has ever had,” Blasingame said. “I mean, you know our opener is coming up in two weeks.”
“Coach,” I said, “I still know when football season starts.”
“Forget about getting into real football shape,” he said. “Can you handle being back on the field without being a quarterback?”
“My dad was a defensive end,” I said. “When I first started playing as a kid, he thought I was playing out of position.”
There had been a pause on Blasingame’s end of what we both knew was a crazytown call, and then he told me the Steelers could arrange my flights, both of us knowing that the time when they’d send a plane for their number-one draft pick was long and faraway gone.
I told him that I’d rather drive with my buddy Vince.
“Just know that if you change your mind along the way,” Gus Blasingame said, “you can turn right around and go back home.”
“I already tried that,” I told him.
I say goodbye to EJ and Bumper early the next morning. As she hugs me on the front porch, my grandmother says, “I just don’t want your heart broken.”
I pull her a little tighter and put on my thickest Carolina accent and say, “My heart is the only thing ain’t got broke.”
I’m driving the pickup to Pittsburgh. Before we start the six-and-a-half-hour drive for real, one that will take us up there through West Virginia, we stop at Taylor’s house to say goodbye.
She’s standing outside waiting for us when we pull up.
“I’ll probably be right back here by Sunday afternoon,” I say. “Maybe even Saturday night. And just know that if anything pops up in Helene’s investigation between now and then, or if you need anything, and I mean anything at all…”
“Silas,” she says, smiling at me. “Stop.”
“Tay,” I tell her, “I have to at least try.”
She’s still smiling. “Or die trying.”
Vince is waiting in the truck.
“One way or another, at least I’ll know,” I say.
“I know.”
She steps forward now and puts her arms around me. I do the same with her. We’re standing there like that until we’re not.