Love's Sporting Chance: Volume 1: 6 Romantic sporting novellas

by Janice Thompson

  Dan shrugged. “Extremely. But I’ve gone over the social media chatter and one of the things our viewers enjoy most is watching me look like an idiot. Being incorrectly dressed gets me into character.”

  Joss was certain that bit of information would wind up on the proverbial cutting room floor. Like magicians, they wouldn’t give up their trade secrets. “It’s big of you to sacrifice your wardrobe for the greater good.”

  “They’re just clothes.”

  Something in his voice kept her from making a snappy comeback. In the past, when Dan was the head anchor, he’d been the one making the jokes. Now he quite often was the joke. It wasn’t just his wardrobe he was sacrificing.

  “You two ready?” The unit director approached, followed by a second cameraman.

  “Absolutely.” Dan walked past Joss to the marks the director had chosen earlier. “Let’s get dirty.”

  Joss moved next to him. The director gave them a thumbs up. “You guys look great.”

  He thought they looked great? They were completely mismatched, as if one of them had received the wrong memo about the dress code. It was the kind of thing the director should have pointed out. It occurred to Joss that Dan had probably been told what to wear. She didn’t know if that made it better or worse.

  A production assistant counted down from five and they began their interview of Rand Watson, the mudder’s PR person.

  “From what I know about the competition,” Dan said, “there are no awards and no winners.”

  Rand nodded. “That’s right.”

  “Let me be blunt, then. What’s the appeal?”

  “You’re not the first to ask that. The whole point of the Tough Mudder is to push yourself harder and farther than you ever thought you could. It’s about being part of a community of athletes all pushing for the same goal.”

  Joss motioned to the area behind them. “From the looks of it, the goal is to finish the course covered in as much mud as possible.”

  “Well,” Rand grinned, “we do make it acceptable to play in the mud. A lot of folks find it liberating. I think you will, too.”

  “Us?” Dan responded. “I’m not sure I’m up for a 10 mile mud run.”

  “Then how about just the first obstacle? This way.” Rand led them down an incline and past the starting line to a large patch of mud crisscrossed with wires. “This is the Kiss of Mud.”

  Joss and Dan looked out over the obstacle as the camera panned the area and Rand described it. “The object is to belly crawl through the mud, under the wire, and out the other side. By the way, that’s barbed wire, and there’s about eighteen inches of clearance between it and your body.”

  Joss clapped her hands together. “I’m game.” She looked sideways at Dan. “You’re a tad overdressed, though. Want to sit this one out?”

  “Not a chance.” He tugged on his tie, slipping one end from the knot and tossed it aside. Then he unbuckled his belt.

  Shock barely began to describe how Joss felt. Her jaw literally dropped as she watched him remove his shirt and pants to reveal what was underneath: black Lycra shorts and a snug blue t-shirt.

  “Excuse me.” He ran off camera long enough to grab a pair of slip-on, water resistant shoes from one of the PAs.

  After snapping her mouth shut, Joss crossed her arms and cocked her head. Talk about looking like an idiot. She’d actually felt sorry for him, but he’d had this planned all along.

  “Don’t look so surprised,” Dan said with a laugh. “You didn’t expect me to shred my good clothes, did you? Are you ready?”

  For the camera, Joss smiled, replied with a chipper, “You bet!” and strode toward the Kiss of Mud. But inside, her demeanor was dead serious.

  It was on.

  ~

  Working with Joss was going to kill him. There was no doubt in Dan’s mind.

  He’d expected to get dirty while making his way through the course. Maybe even get a scratch or two. What he hadn’t expected was for the wire to get stuck in his the material of his shorts. When he moved forward, the wire stayed buried in the tight weave of the Lycra, almost pulling the shorts off. He tried moving back, then from side to side, but it only made things worse. The barb went all the way through the material and scratched the skin of his lower back. With the front of his body half-buried in cold, oozing mud, and the back of his body being scratched bloody, Dan panicked. He pulled and twisted, until more barbs grabbed his clothes. He pulled even harder and somehow managed to dislodge one of the supports, bringing the web of wire down on top of him.

  Now, as a medic dabbed at the scratches on his face while he sat in the trailer watching the playback, Dan had to admit it: he was doomed. Even wearing the right clothes for the occasion, he’d managed to make a fool out of himself.

  “Ouch!” Dan winced at the sting of the antiseptic.

  “Sorry.” Becky, a volunteer medic at the Tough Mudder event, continued to clean the wound on the back of his neck. “You’ve got quite a gouge here.”

  Even though he and Joss had cleaned off most of the mud in the on-site portable showers, Dan still had grit and dirt in his hair, under his fingernails, and in various hard-to-reach spots that would have to be addressed in private.

  “I don’t know why you’re bothering,” he grumbled. “The Band-Aids will fall off as soon as I soak in the tub.”

  “Let the woman do her job,” Joss called to him. She sat beside the director, barefoot and with a towel covering her less muddy and still damp clothes. They both leaned forward to look at the playback on the small monitor. A moment later, she chuckled. “Oh boy.”

  The director barked out a laugh. “Anybody else here old enough to remember the Coppertone ads with the kid and the dog?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “This kind of reminds me of that.”

  “Reminds me of a plumber.” Joss said.

  Dan closed his eyes and groaned. Great. There was footage of him almost mooning America. “We are not going to use that.”

  “Sure we are.” Joss pointed at the screen. “We can just blur out this area here, right?”

  The director nodded. “Absolutely.”

  What a helpful bunch they were. “You know, maybe we should rethink the whole concept of keeping a camera constantly rolling. It’s not like we’re shooting Survivor.”

  “Not the way you play,” Becky mumbled to herself.

  Dan shot her a look and she grimaced. “Sorry. I’ve just never seen anybody get caught in the wire like that.”

  After Becky packed up her first aid gear, she gave Dan one more sympathetic smile, then left the trailer.

  “Come on, Dan, don’t be a grump.” Joss turned around in the chair to face him. “You said it yourself, the audience loves you.”

  “I said they loved it when I looked like an idiot.”

  “Then they’re going to love this!” Her grin faltered. “That didn’t come out right. What I meant was–”

  “I know what you meant. You don’t have to explain it. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to sit here and relax until my wounds stop stinging. Then I’ll be ready to head back to the hotel.”

  Joss nodded. “I think I’ll go stand in the sun and let it dry off my clothes.”

  She left the trailer, followed by the director who wanted to see how the team was proceeding with the break down. For the first time that day, Dan was completely alone.

  The director had paused the video feed before he left. There on the screen was a frozen image of Dan wallowing in mud, his face contorted, and his shorts caught on the wire. There was a time when Dan had been a top level athlete. He’d been the best. Now, he was in a position where he essentially failed at every sport he tried. Dan knew he should be grateful the public was talking about him in a positive way. Sure, they were laughing at him, but at least they weren’t pointing fingers anymore and questioning his character. But he hated the idea that people now saw him as the bumbling has-been who couldn’t even play flag football without getting a concussion. Somehow, Joss Cr
andall, a relative unknown to the American sports viewing community, had become the poised, charming voice that viewers were listening to.

  Well, not for long.

  Dan stood and let out a moan as one of the bandages on his back pulled against a wound. It was high time Joss shared the load of being comic relief. He was going to choose the next event they covered, and it would be a doozy. They’d see how easy going Joss could be when the joke was on her.

  5

  April

  Atlanta, Georgia

  It was taking Dan a little longer than expected to turn the tables. First, he had to suffer through the indignities of an exhibition game with the National Dodgeball League (where the impact of several shots to unfortunate areas of his body proved Joss was far better at dodging than he was), Bicycle Water Balloon Jousting (in which, unlike Dan, Joss had managed to stay dry and upright on her bike), and a heated match of International League Foosball (in which Dan became far too enthusiastic, spraining his wrist and nearly impaling himself on a row of little men). During that time, he and his partner had become so popular, they’d been given a regular spot on The Morning Sports Chat with Matt and Melinda. Now, they were back in Atlanta to be interviewed by Matt and Melinda before they went to the next competition. Finally, Dan knew the time had come.

  Today was the day he got to take Joss down a peg or two.

  “Mr. Parker?” A production assistant poked her head through the doorway of the Green Room. “It’s time to get to your mark.”

  Dan stood. “Is Joss here?”

  “They just finished her up in hair and makeup.”

  He followed the young woman down the hall to a backstage area. Joss was already there, camera ready and set to go.

  “Good morning.” Chipper as always, Joss greeted him with a smile.

  “Well, it is morning.” Dan looked at the studio audience through the opening in the set. “How we do out there will determine if it’s good or not.”

  She nudged him with her elbow. “Come on, it’s going to be great. This is the easy stuff.”

  The PA put her hand up to get their attention, then quietly began a countdown. “You’re going on in five, four, three, two –” Silently, she held up one finger, then pointed for them to walk on stage.

  “And here they are,” Melinda was saying. “The couple that makes you want to go outside and play a game–”

  “Or run screaming,” Matt interjected with a laugh.

  Melinda laughed back. “Or that! Welcome Joss Crandall and Dan Parker!”

  The crowd erupted in applause as they walked across the stage and to the couches. They waved at the audience, greeted Melinda and Matt with hugs and handshakes, then sat down. After exchanging the usual opening banter, Matt got right to the point.

  “Dan, a few months ago you were the face of Sports Night. Then, this happened.”

  As the monitors and the huge screen behind them flashed on, Dan fought to keep his expression unaffected. But when he heard his voice saying “you people,” the blood drained from his face. This shouldn’t be happening. They were part of the same network, on the same team. Why would Matt bring this up when the entire Board of Directors wanted nothing more than for it to go away?

  When the clip ended, Matt looked back at Dan. “If I recall, you never really addressed that incident. Would you like to now?”

  It was the most awkward moment of Dan’s life. Even the silence coming from the audience was uncomfortable. Not a word came to his mind, at least none he could say out loud on national television.

  “I’d like to say something.” Joss leaned slightly forward in her seat, looking straight at Matt. “What Dan said was taken completely out of context. He was talking about not having rhythm. And believe me,” Joss looked at the audience and grinned, “I’ve seen Dan in various situations, and I can concur that he is rhythmically challenged.”

  The audience laughed, releasing some of the tension. Then Joss continued.

  “Washington and Hickson are both former quarterbacks. In general, quarterbacks are known for their footwork and ability to be graceful on the field. That’s what Dan was talking about. When he said, you people, the people he meant were quarterbacks.”

  Melinda threw her hands up in the air, then slapped them down on her knees. “Well of course! That makes perfect sense.”

  The murmurings that had been travelling through the audience turned into louder, affirmative calls and strong applause. Dan looked at Joss, hoping she could read the thank you he attempted to transmit through his eyes. It must have worked, because she gave him a slight nod, then kept on talking.

  “Obviously, it was all a big misunderstanding. But it turned out pretty well for me, since I got to pair up with this guy.”

  Dan’s cheeks warmed, a sure sign that his blood had resumed flowing, and he was growing soft. Maybe he’d been too hard on Joss. They were doing a job, after all. It wasn’t her fault if he looked silly every now and then. She’d had her embarrassing moments, too.

  “It’s been a successful pairing, too. You sure have created a lot of buzz since you hit the scene. And it’s only been a couple of months.” Apparently, Matt was happy enough to move on. He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb, back at the screen. “We’ve put together a montage of some of your best moments.”

  It was a sixty second bit set to music that would have been perfect for a Benny Hill sketch. Images of him and Joss were alternated. Every one of her looking like she knew what she was doing was followed by one of him looking like a huge klutz. Joss ran like a gazelle, flags fluttering behind her from the canvas belt, then Dan flew through the air and landed on top of her. She rode a bike, her face determined, a water balloon in one hand. Then Dan got the same water balloon in his face and fell off his bike, all in slow motion. The grand finale was Joss, emerging from the mud like a triumphant warrior, while Dan struggled with the barbed wire and almost lost his shorts. The audience went wild, laughing and clapping.

  Melinda wiped at the corner of her eye with a knuckle, as if wiping away tears of joy. “How do you two do it? The chemistry…it’s just amazing.”

  Joss chuckled and gave a shrug. “We play to our strengths.”

  Dan smiled, but he wasn’t happy. After watching the montage, it was apparent his strength was falling down and getting hurt. Apparently, the audience agreed. There was a time when he’d been an MVP running back. He’d been the one knocking players down and winning games. Now, he was just good for a laugh.

  “So what do you have in store for us next?” Matt asked.

  “Lots of great stuff,” Joss said. “For example, later today we’ll be at the Greater Atlanta Hot Dog Eating Contest, sponsored by the Federation of Competitive Eating.”

  Melinda wrinkled her nose. “Competitive eating?”

  “Hard to believe, but true.” Dan jumped in. Now was the time to set things in motion. “It sounds like a joke, but there’s substantial prize money at stake.”

  “The winner takes home four thousand dollars,” Joss said with a nod.

  Raising his eyebrows in surprise, Matt looked from one to the other. “Really? So, does this mean we’ll see the two of you chowing down on hot dogs tomorrow?”

  Before Joss could answer, Dan reached over and slapped Matt on the shoulder. “No, we’re leaving that to the pros. But we are going to show you a different kind of competitive eating. Our viewers will get a real kick out of it.”

  If Joss wanted to ask him what he was talking about, she kept it to herself. After a few more minutes of banter, the segment was over and the show went to a commercial break. As if a switch had been flipped, Matt and Melinda turned serious.

  “Thanks,” Matt said brusquely, then walked off stage.

  Miranda frowned in his direction, then looked back at Dan at Joss. “I’d ask you to excuse him, but I gave up trying to find one for him years ago. We really do appreciate you taking the time to be here, and being such good sports.” Before they could reply, a man wearing a headse
t and carrying a clipboard whisked her away.

  “Well.” Joss blinked rapidly. “That was…interesting.”

  Dan nodded. “I prefer being on the other side of the interview.”

  “I’m right with you, partner.” They headed off stage and made their way out of the building. When they reached their cars, Joss turned to him. “What did you mean when you said we’d be demonstrating a different kind of competitive eating?”

  Grinning, Dan shook his head. “It’s a surprise.”

  She put her hand on her hip. “I’m really not keen on surprises.”

  Neither was he, but he’d been putting up with them for months. “Like you’re always telling me, there’s no substitute for a genuine response. It’ll be worth it. Trust me.”

  For a moment, she considered him, then a smile blossomed on her lips. “I do.” She opened her car door and raised her fingers in a little wave. “See you at Peachtree Park.”

  It was a small car, dark blue and simple, not at all what he’d expect from the daughter of a network owner. Just one more reason to like her. Something flopped in Dan’s stomach. He did like her. A lot. But this wasn’t about liking somebody. This was about every water balloon, mud pit, and tiddlywink that had bested him over the last few months. This was about coming out on top, for once. If the situation was reversed, Joss would do the same thing. Afterward, she’d understand.

  He hoped.

  ~

  You would think people who considered themselves professional eaters would be huge, but Joss was surprised at the range of body types represented. One woman, who was the personification of petite, gave her explanation of it.

  “Not every competitive eater retains all the calories they consume.”

  Rather than asking for more details, Joss wished the woman well and moved on. There were some things she just didn’t want to know.

  “Come on, Bernie,” she said to the cameraman trailing her. “Let’s talk to some of the folks doing set up.”

  The Greater Atlanta Hot Dog Eating Contest was part of the larger Good Eats and Good Deeds Festival, in which local chefs and restaurants cooked for the crowds and the proceeds went to charity. It was a party-type atmosphere including live music and carnival rides, some of which, like the tilt-a-whirl, seemed unwise to have at an event which encouraged people to stuff themselves to the gills. The hot dog eating contest was held on a stage that carried a red, white, and blue theme from the bunting to the balloons to the paper covers on the long tables. If she hadn’t known better, Joss would have thought they were at a Fourth of July picnic.