Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 121095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
“I know it’s typically only rookies who sing at training camp,” Dad says into the podium microphone, his low grumble of a voice cutting through the excited din in the auditorium. “But since I’m the guy who gets to make the rules, I’ve decided to kick things off with a non-rookie—a fourth-year journeyman who’s a newbie to the Mastodons organization.”
Every eyeball in the joint instantly shifts to Luca. Who else could Coach be talking about after that stunt Luca pulled on the uprights yesterday?
With a laugh, Dad continues, “The player I’ve got in mind has made it abundantly clear he loves being in the spotlight. A little too much, if you ask me. So, I’m thinking this is the perfect opportunity for him to show off not only his big personality, but some leadership skills, too.”
Realizing everyone in the entire place is now looking at him, Luca comically points a finger at himself, and with a faux-innocent expression on his face, he mouths, “Me?”
Dad chuckles. “Yes, you. Come on up here, Mr. Personality. Anyone reckless enough to do whirligigs on the uprights, thereby risking life and limb for no other reason than to get a fleeting laugh, is still a rookie in my book.”
Everyone explodes with laughter at that, even Luca. And once again, I’m impressed with my father’s coaching savvy. It’s a genius move, really. A fitting punishment for Luca’s heinous crime but also a chance for Luca to redeem himself. Dad generally believes in second chances. I know that for a fact. Maybe even for a Maguire who pulled a reckless stunt like Luca’s.
Having arrived at the stage area, Luca shakes his head coach’s hand vigorously and then waves to the ascending rows of unruly players and coaching staffers like he’s been called up to receive an Academy Award.
After enjoying a begrudging chuckle at Luca’s bravado despite himself, Dad raises a palm and signals for everyone to pipe down and give Luca the floor, at which point an expectant hush falls over the tittering crowd.
Vocal talent isn’t the point of this highly anticipated ritual, and everyone here knows that. It’s about having fun in a way that gives everyone else permission to have fun, too, thereby giving everyone a much-needed break from the grueling brutality that lies at the very core of training camp. For that reason, the exercise tends to put leadership skills on full display. Confidence, yes, but some much-needed humility, too. If a guy has the balls to sing with full abandon in front of a tough and rowdy crowd like this—and without backing music, at that!—it means he’s willing to do anything for the men he’ll be going into battle with when it counts. If the guy is one of the lucky ones to get onto the roster, that is.
“Thanks for the honor of kicking things off today, Coach,” Luca says earnestly, and my father comically rolls his eyes at his characterization of what was meant to be a punitive measure. Luca returns to the crowd with a bright smile—one that’s surely making his dimples easily visible to even the back row. “Today, I’ll be performing one of my all-time favorite songs. It’s iconic. A true classic. I consider it my own personal soundtrack.” Luca’s face hardens with mock seriousness. “Pay close attention to the lyrics because …” Now he adopts somewhat of an ominous expression. “There are no coincidences, my friends.”
An anticipatory chuckle ripples through the crowd as Luca soberly bows his head in preparation for whatever tour-de-force performance he’s planning to deliver. A long, dramatic moment ensues, and when Luca finally raises his head, his dark, smoldering gaze locks directly onto me and remains fixed there as he starts singing the first line of his selection, which he performs with the wanton enthusiasm of a wrongfully convicted man begging for a death-row pardon.
“Say My Name” by Destiny’s Child. To everyone’s extreme delight, that’s the song Luca’s chosen to perform for us—and it’s a fact everyone instantly surmises due to the song’s first lyrics repeatedly mirroring its title: “Say my name, say my name.”
Of course, given Luca’s famous last name, everyone in the audience is in on the obvious joke, and they react accordingly, with wild laughter and applause. But for me, the lyrics chosen by Luca take on an even bigger meaning, one Luca’s plainly intending to convey, given the way he’s staring at me. As Luca knows, his unfortunate last name is a horrible slur to me and my entire hometown—not to mention, it’s the reason Luca didn’t take my virginity years ago. So hearing him demand, repeatedly, that I “say” it, and doing so while his dark eyes remain fixed on mine, feels deeply personal. Not to mention hilarious. Touché, Luca.
Only a few seconds into Luca’s performance, the entire auditorium collectively rises to their feet in support while raucously cheering, clapping, and loudly singing along. But it’s when Luca gets to the second chorus that it feels like the roof of the auditorium has blown off. And of course, the increased excitement in the room then inspires the man at the eye of the storm to perform his song with even more endearing fervor and abandon.