Page 60 of Playbook
“I don’t know…” He glances around. “What if I don’t pass? Sometimes I listen to the TV too loud and my mom says I’m going to hurt my ears.”
Most people, myself included, would probably blow off this kid’s concern and promise that everything is okay. But Brogan doesn’t do either of those things.
He squats down in front of him. “This isn’t a pass or fail test. It’s just to get more information.”
“But what if I can’t hear?” He puts both hands over the headphones protectively.
“You know what? My brother is deaf. He can’t hear well, and he’s still the coolest guy I know.”
“He can’t?” The boy’s eyes widen.
“He wears a special device on both ears to help, but without them, you could be shouting behind him, and he wouldn’t know. Being hard of hearing or deaf doesn’t mean you can’t do the things you want. He plays football, watches TV…and he uses his hands to communicate. What’s your name?”
“Michael.”
Brogan signs something then says, “I just said ‘It’s nice to meet you, Michael. My name is Brogan.’”
“That’s so cool. It’s like a secret handshake. Can you teach me?”
“I’d love to, but this nice lady has a line of kids waiting. Think you’re ready now?”
The boy nods and his face grows serious as he wiggles in his seat to sit straighter.
Brogan chuckles, pats the kid on the knee, and stands.
My heart melts to the floor.
It goes on like that for a while. Some of the kids are eager; others are nervous. I stand next to Brogan, observing more than helping. He’s good with the kids. He knows what to say or do to put them at ease. He’s funny and goofy, which most of the kids love, but the ones that need more reassurance get that from him too.
About twenty minutes before his turn at the autograph tent, another player arrives to take his place. Brogan leads me outside and we’re immediately engulfed in people. The sun is high in the sky and it’s a perfect blue-sky day without a cloud in sight. Which also means it’s hot.
In the food area, we grab lunch. I get a hot dog and chips, and Brogan gets two hot dogs, a hamburger, chips, and a large pickle. We sit in the shade next to a couple of misters. There are a few other football players also eating, but they’re scattered around among everyone else.
I’m surprised to notice that nobody approaches the players, even though they’re mere feet away from them. They all seem to want to respect their time while they eat. That doesn’t stop them from staring though.
“I don’t know how you ever get used to this,” I say as I open my bag of chips and do my best to pretend people aren’t watching us. Him, really, but me by extension.
“What?” he asks, completely oblivious. He takes a huge bite of the hot dog while he waits for my response.
“Everyone staring all the time. Is it always like this?”
He nods while he chews, then takes a drink of his water before saying, “Yeah, I guess so. But it’s all pretty new. No one was doing much staring before I was drafted, so I don’t mind. It’s a novelty that’ll wear off, I’m sure.”
The shrug that accompanies that answer is so him. So casual and unaffected by being the center of attention. It’s not like I don’t think he enjoys it. He obviously does. But he seems to have a good awareness that it’s this fleeting, amazing thing instead of it being his entire personality and reason for existing.
It makes me like him even more. He could easily let it all go to his head, but he hasn’t, and I hope he never does. He’s a really cool guy—words I am shocked to think.
“Your brother…Archer. He’s the one you were talking about with the little kid, right?” I ask, then add, “I noticed the hearing aid when you introduced me earlier.”
“Yeah. That’s right. He’d probably kill me for sharing so much, but he really is the best guy I know, and I don’t want kids to be freaked out by people that are different than them. People find out someone is deaf or has some other disability and that becomes their entire personality. I’ve seen it happen to Arch, seen the way he’s fought against it since we were kids. He learned to read lips because so few people around him knew ASL. He compensates a million different ways so that people don’t feel like they need to give him special treatment.”
“I get that.”
“Me too, but it’s bullshit. We should be happy to make simple alterations to accommodate people that need it. Everyone should learn sign language. At least the basics. And…” He stops. “Clearly I could go on and on about this. Sorry.” He offers a sheepish smile and then takesa huge bite to finish off one hot dog.
“No, you’re right. The world would be a much better place if we all had a little more empathy.”
He grins at me, mouth still full. We finish our food with neither of us mentioning Archer again, but I’m still thinking about what Brogan said as I watch him sign jerseys and hats for adoring fans and after when we head over to the dunk tank.
