Page 121 of The Goat in the Bedroom
“I'll tell her the truth. That my boyfriend makes everything better, even disasters.”
The smile that spread across his face was worth being late.
The coalition building started in earnest after I got back from practice. Gryff spent the morning on video calls with players, each conversation following a similar pattern, disbelief, fear, anger, and finally, relief at not being alone.
“We stand together,” he kept saying. “She can't take us all down if we refuse to let her.”
I watched him work, this man who'd been the safe harbor for so many scared athletes. He knew exactly what to say because he'd been there.
The first call was with Ray, a defensive back from Seattle. I watched Gryff's face soften as Ray nearly broke down on the other end.
“I can't,” Ray was saying, his voice tinny through the phone speaker. “My grandmother, she's religious, she won't?—“
“Hey, breathe,” Gryff said gently. “No one's forcing you to come out. We're stopping her from forcing you. There's a difference.”
“But if she releases the photos?—“
“Then we'll deal with it together. You won't be alone. I promise you that.”
“Why do you care? You don't even know me.”
“We met at the combine,” Gryff reminded him gently. “In the hotel bar afterward. You told me you wished you could be as open as I was.”
“I was drunk.”
“You were honest. And you asked me how I did it, how I came out and kept playing.”
There was silence on the other end, then Ray said, “You told me that courage wasn't the absence of fear, it was playing through it anyway.”
“Still true.”
“I'm not ready to come out.”
“You don't have to be. Ever, if that's your choice. But it should be YOUR choice, not Sloane's.”
The next call was with Jamie, the center from the Beagles. I remembered him from Gryff's stories about the All-star game.
“Kingman?” Jamie's East Coast accent was thick with stress. “That really you?”
“Yeah, man. You okay?”
“Fuck no, I'm not okay. This crazy woman has photos from college. My boyfriend... ex-boyfriend... shit, I don't even know what we are anymore.”
“Deep breath,” Gryff said. “Tell me what happened.”
“She showed up at practice. Said she was doing a segment on rookie life around the League, as part of the new season ofRookie Rising. Then afterward, she pulled me aside and showedme the photos on her phone. Said she knew about Treyvon, about us, about everything.”
“When does she want an answer?”
“Friday. Same as everyone else apparently.” Jamie laughed bitterly. “At least I'm not special.”
“You're not alone,” Gryff corrected. “There's seven of us that we know of. We're handling it.”
“How?”
“Together. As a team. Same way we play.”
“You’re their lifeline,” I said between calls.
