Game On

by Barbara Oliverio

  “Look, Romeo. I know my brothers. Of all of you, you’re the Romeo-est.”

  He swatted my arm away.

  “Stop it, Mais. You forget that you are the baby and I am your elder. Have some respect.”

  “I’ll have some respect when your dating card isn’t taped to a revolving door. You cannot go out with this woman and then dump her. I mean, for Pete’s sake, bringing her home to meet the folks! Do you realize that when you stop calling her, I’ll have to deal with it at work? She can make my life miserable. Plus I’ll also have to deal with it here—”

  Anthony literally had to put me in a wrestler’s hold with his hand over my mouth to get me to hush up.

  “Maisie. Stop making this about you. Can you for a minute think that I might like her? For real?”

  I shook my head, only able to make a pitiful sound since I couldn’t actually utter words. He released me from his grip, and I stuck my tongue out at him.

  “Real mature, Maisie.”

  “Think about it, Anthony. You just met her Friday.”

  “I know. Then we spent yesterday together and went to dinner last night. I picked her up to take her to Mass with Ma and Pop this morning.”

  “Wow. Add all those hours together and that’s almost a whopping whole day that you’ve known each other. I’ve seen you spend more time playing Multiverse on your Graviton Gaming system. Besides, I’VE known her longer. She’s not exactly warm and fuzzy.”

  “Maybe not at the office. But did you ever think she needs to be that way to keep things in order there?”

  “Ha.”

  “Come on Maisie. Give her a chance.”

  I began to answer, but the front door crashed open and Angelo’s twins flew in, followed by their harried parents. Clemmie and Brooks immediately sped toward the kitchen in an effort to find their nana, and Angelo and Lucy stopped to investigate what we were doing.

  “I sense trouble here,” Angelo said, wagging his finger.

  “Not everyone is as mischievous as you, sweetheart,” Lucy said and wisely decided to bow out of the discussion. She kissed Anthony and me and followed her children, carrying a large bowl sure to contain her signature fruit salad.

  “It is trouble though, right?” Angelo asked. “Anything to do with the hot blonde that Pop said you brought to Mass?”

  “I’m just so sure that Pop said I brought a ‘hot blonde’ to Mass,” Anthony shook his head.

  “Go ahead, then,” I said. “Tell Angelo about this demure angel you brought.”

  “Ahem.”

  Oops. We all turned guiltily toward the kitchen and saw Pop looming in the doorway, standing in that signature Coach Valenti arms-crossed pose.

  “Might I ask why we have a guest and the three of you are holed away out here as if you were trying to decide how to cover up who broke your mother’s favorite lamp?”

  Still with the lamp? Does no story ever die in this house?

  We started to troop toward the backyard, composing ourselves, but Anthony got one last shot in by tugging at my hair when he thought he wasn’t being watched.

  14

  “What do you think?”

  “About?”

  “Were you even listening, Phyllis?” I fell backward on her bed, frustrated.

  “So Anthony brought someone home for dinner,” she repeated. She turned toward her mirror, holding up one each of two indistinguishable pairs of earrings on either side of her head, then turned back to me and waited for my opinion.

  “The left one.” I leaned up. “Not just anyone. One of my co-workers, and it was Ms. Prim herself. Don’t you see how tragic this is?”

  “Tragic? Are you sure we want to use that word?” She padded over to her closet and picked out two shoes, holding one in each hand for comment.

  “Olive suede. Yes, I stand by that word choice.”

  Properly shod, Phyllis brushed out her voluminous locks and sprayed enough hairspray for both of us, sending me into a coughing fit.

  “How exactly is this ‘tragic’?” she asked as she leaned into her mirror, although it sounded more like “ow e-zah-ly is es aj-ic” since she was coating her lips with an intense shade of carmine at the exact time she was speaking.

  I blew my own hair out of my eyes.

  “I have to see this woman EVERY DAY.”

  “Since you’ve been at that station, you’ve said that she’s been very professional. Don’t you think she’ll stay the same? Are you afraid she’ll treat you worse?”

  No. That didn’t jive with Addison’s personality.

  “Or what. Or do you think she’ll suddenly want to be best buddies?”

  The image of Addison dragging me into the ladies’ room for giggly, cozy chats about my brother was too funny, and I grinned.

  “No-o.”

  “Then what, Maisie? Was it an uncomfortable meal?” Finally satisfied with her outfit, hair, and makeup, Phyllis sat next to me.

  I didn’t actually have an answer to that question. That’s because I didn’t actually participate in the meal. At the last minute, I had run out the front door, calling mom on my mobile phone with a trumped-up excuse that I had to get to the station. So, since I had ducked out, I didn’t get to know Addison “off the clock.” Oh, I’m sure it was a pleasant affair. Addison probably had been neither pretentious nor embarrassing. She probably didn’t spit or dribble or spill her food. I’m betting that throughout the meal, she was an entirely charming guest—exactly the type of guest I’m sure my mother wished I was when I was out of her sight.

  “I don’t know, Phyl.” I propped my hand on my fist on my knee.

  “Do you think your brother was overcome and dropped to one knee and proposed?”

  My head shot up.

  “No! I know he’s your favorite, Phyl, and you defend him all the time, but even you have to admit that would have been amazingly fast!”

  “C’mon, Maisie. This is Anthony. It’s not exactly out of character for him to bring a date home so soon.”

  I jumped up.

  “But that’s precisely the problem! What if it was only that? Dinner—with the family, mind you—and he doesn’t call her again. Is she going to blame me? Will I be punished somehow?”

  Phyllis crossed her arms.

  “Gosh. I wish you could hear how self-centered you sound.”

  “What!”

  “This isn’t about you, Maisie. Sure, he met her through you. But whatever happens between them happens between them. Even if he acts like a jerk, that’s HIM. Anyway, why are you borrowing trouble? Geesh, you have all of this played out in your head, and you didn’t even stick around to have a meal with the woman.”

  I sat down again.

  “Besides you are forgetting the most important thing.”

  I looked up into her eyes, seeking wisdom, and she arose and headed to the mirror to do a final check.

  “What’s that?”

  “You are totally annoying me as I’m preparing for a dinner date.”

  “WHAT!”

  I pulled her onto the bed and ruffled her hair.

  “Stop, stop, stop, you bothersome brat!” she leapt to her feet.

  “Now who’s self-centered?” I laughed.

  She shook her finger at me and righted her appearance. Darn it, how could someone return to ravishing so quickly?

  I was so thankful for Phyllis and her ability to bring me down to earth. Sure, anything that came about with the Anthony and Addison situation would affect me in some way, but I really shouldn’t let it whirl out of control like that.

  “Hey, gorgeous, where are you going anyway?”

  “Just a late supper,” she said.

  “Another new one? Holy moly, Phyllis, are they just lined up waiting for you?”

  “Mm-hmm.” She initiated a catwalk stride and executed her patented turn, hip-jut just as the front door buzzer rang.

  “Mais. Seriously, don’t worry about this. Besides, don’t you have your new assignment tomorrow?”

 
; “Great. You had to remind me. At least I had stopped worrying about that for a minute.” One of my throw pillows lived up to its name as it left my hand and just missed her head in a perfect aim.

  “See you in a couple of hours.” She blew a kiss my way and continued on her way to the door.

  She was right. I didn’t have time to stress over Anthony and Addison. Or should I call them Anthison? Addony? Whatever. I left Phyllis’s room and was about to cross into my own when I spied her well-groomed handsome “date” in the hall.

  “Uncle Dante!” I gave Phyllis a glare. Letting me believe she was off with a new man. Not that it was inconceivable, mind you, but she was teasing me.

  “Hello, A-Mais-ing,” Phyllis’s father had been the first one to use that nickname years ago, and every time he referred to me that way, I actually did feel amazing. “Tell me what is going on in your new job. Or are you free to join us? Phyllis’s mother is waiting for us at the restaurant.” He kept my hands in his after a giant hug.

  “Oh gosh no, I have to prepare for work tomorrow. I’ll be on the sidelines for the Denver Blitz, so I’m looking forward to that.”

  “That’s great! I didn’t know they were broadcasting lacrosse this year.”

  “It’s something that Mathis Bosch is trying. Lots of people are getting into the sport, so he wants to cover it. It’s about time, if you ask me.” I recalled when my college lacrosse team had garnered the national championship yet barely got a mention at the end of a newscast.

  “You don’t think football always got the prime coverage that it does now, do you?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

  “Please, Uncle D. Football is the king of sports! Not that I’m complaining. You know I love it.”

  He nodded. I was as much a fixture at Sunday game-watching parties as he, my dad, and brothers were.

  “I think Maisie is just waiting for her opportunity to move from the sidelines and call plays with her station’s leading man.” Phyllis nudged me.

  “Who’s that? Oh right, Campbell Casey.” Uncle Dante tilted his head thoughtfully. “He was good on the field. I’m sure he’s all right in front of the camera. Good looking. But you could run circles around him with your knowledge of the sport. You were born to do this job, sweetheart.”

  I threw my arms around him. “You know how to make a person feel good, Uncle D!”

  “It ain’t braggin’ if it’s true.” He was paraphrasing baseball great Satchel Paige. “So, what’s up with Anthony? I haven’t heard from him in a bit.”

  “No, no, no.” Phyllis pulled us apart and pushed her father toward the door. “I’ll fill you in on that at dinner. If we open that discussion again, we’ll be here until the restaurants stop serving. Maisie, see you later. And don’t dwell on that topic!”

  Uncle Dante gave me a bemused shrug, and they were gone.

  I stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows in our apartment’s living room and took in the splendid view of the city below me. The next day would be the first real test of my abilities as far as the station was concerned. I wondered if Lesley Visser or Michele Tafoya had felt these butterflies the first time they were assigned to the sidelines of a major sport. Sure, women were more of a fixture in the sports world now, thanks to them, but this was my job on the line. Not to mention that at KDW, I was THE only woman working full-time in the sports department. How had that happened? How had they reached this point in this decade without a woman on the sidelines or behind the broadcast desk?

  Unbelievable. It made me a little frightened to think that I was, what, a groundbreaker? The token? Nah. Pop and I had talked about it, and he wisely counseled me to keep reminding myself that they hired me for my talent and not just because they needed to check a box marked “Female Reporter.” I made a mental note to get to know other Denver-area women in sports. Even though inroads had been made, we needed to stick together.

  As I stood musing at the window, I heard the distinct “chirp” from my bedroom indicating that I had an incoming text message. I dashed in and grabbed my phone, and realized I had missed more than one message while I’d been in the living room.

  “Go get ’em, squirt. You know you can do this.” From Joey.

  “It won’t be long before you are in the big time.” From Johnny.

  “Move over Erin Andrews, there’s a new star in town.” From Vinnie.

  “I’m praying for you, sis.” From Sammy.

  I wiped the tears from my eyes. Earlier, Angelo and Anthony had wished me luck in person. No matter what, I always knew I had my brothers behind me.

  As I clutched my phone to my chest, the theme from the long-gone TV show Coach played. I smiled. That ringtone belonged to only one person in my life.

  “Hi, Pop.”

  “Hello, baby girl.”

  “What’s up? Are you upset that I left earlier?”

  “No. Nothing like that. Your mother told me you had to take care of something. I just assumed it was for work.”

  I could tell by his tone of voice that he wasn’t calling to dive into the reasons why I left before dinner.

  “I just wanted to tell you again how proud your mother and I are of you and to let you know we think you’ll do a great job tomorrow.” His tone was soft. I knew he was in his favorite chair in the family room, worn from many evenings of sitting there after wins and losses in his career.

  “Thanks, Daddy.” I reverted to my childhood name for him. My eyes welled up even further as I curled into my own comfy chair in the corner of my room.

  I heard my mother’s voice in the background. “Sal, tell her to get a good night’s sleep!”

  “She knows that, Sophie.” My father sighed as he answered her.

  “Sal, tell her to wear dark green—it makes her eyes pop.”

  “She knows how to pick out an outfit, Sophie.”

  I wiped my eyes and grinned as they went back and forth.

  “Hey,” I caught his attention. “Does Ma want to talk to me herself?”

  “What?” He turned his focus back to me and said, not unkindly. “No, hon, she’s just being your mother.”

  “Tell her I appreciate it.”

  “I will.”

  There was a slight pause.

  “Daddy. Thank you.”

  “For what, hon?”

  “For everything.”

  He cleared his throat, and his tone changed slightly. He was becoming Coach Valenti. “Well, make me proud.”

  “I’ll try, Coach.”

  “There is no try, Maisie. Just do.”

  There he was.

  “I will.”

  “Good night, baby girl.” He softened again.

  “Good night, Daddy.”

  15

  “Can you get over to Coach Holst for a closing statement, Mais?” I heard my producer’s voice in my ear.

  “Got it.” I hustled to the corner of the field where the team would be exiting following their crushing defeat of the visiting St. Louis Zoom. Alek had also heard the instruction in his earpiece and, just as spry, followed me with his bulky Panasonic camera securely on his shoulder. As soon as the coach sprinted toward the locker room, I planted myself in front of him.

  “How does that feel for a season opener, Coach Holst?” I stuck my mike into his face. I sensed that he was more than a bit shocked to be the focus of a sports interview, something usually reserved for more mainstream sports.

  “We have a great group of guys out there. I have to say we played a great opponent, and they gave us a great game.”

  Great.

  C’mon, Coach. If you ever want to elevate your sport on the national stage, you HAVE to up your game when you have a camera pointed at you. I attempted to help him along.

  “So, your guys were very effective in defending against their attackers, who are known for using the V-Cut. Is that something you specifically worked on for this game?”

  He gave me a curious look. I was sure he wasn’t expecting a “fluffy” sideline reporter to even know how
to spell lacrosse, much less ask a pointed question.

  I blinked and nodded and waited for his answer, willing him to engage. Finally he did.

  “We were expecting that, sure, but my guys are agile and we’ve trained to be able to adjust to most situations.” He expounded. Now that I had loosened him up, I was able to keep the Q&A going for a bit longer.

  Then finally, “Thanks a lot, Coach! Good luck next week against the Austin Vipers!” He dashed off, and I turned full face to the camera to wrap up. “There you go, Tom and Bill. Coach Raymond Holst and the Blitz, 1-0 on what they hope is a winning season!” I presented my brightest smile.

  “We already cut away after his first answer, Maisie,” Jim said in my ear. “Station, out.”

  “What!” But he was already gone. I looked at Alek. He had continued rolling while we were speaking—for nothing apparently. “Did you know that, Alek?”

  “What do you think? He didn’t tell me that he had cut out either, Mais.” Alek switched the camera off and began walking toward the truck. I only hesitated for a moment before catching up with him.

  “But the best part of the interview was after he warmed up to me!”

  “I know. They just didn’t need it, I guess.”

  I fumed as I stomped next to him.

  “I thought it was going pretty well. We had a good chemistry going, don’t you think?”

  Alek stopped and wheeled toward me.

  “Maisie, just stop.”

  I was taken aback. That was a tone I was not used to from Alek.

  “This wasn’t about you. They had what they needed, and they had to cut back for time, or for another story, or for I don’t know what. This game is not the most important thing going on today. Can’t you be happy that we even got to broadcast it at all? And that you got to do sideline? Let it go. You had your opportunity, and you did well. And, by the way, how about a thank you for me catching that last bit, which you can use for your clip file? Did you ever think about that? Even though it wasn’t broadcast, you HAVE it. YOU’RE WELCOME. Are you ever going to appreciate the fact that I keep rolling?”