The Problem with Sports

by M. E. Clayton

  “Grant already knows he can’t play sports, so he’s untainted by the lights and glamour. He enjoys sports for what they are, not for the celebrity they’ve become. He’s a true sports fan, unlike a lot of kids who are forced into sports by their parents, fame and money being the motivator. And most of them never succeed, so talk about crushing a dream,” I explained. “I think you’re doing a disservice by not taking Grant to any games.”

  She stared at me a bit before saying, “Huh.” Andie started chewing on her lower lip. “I…I never thought of it that way,” she admitted.

  “Look, I’m not trying to…downplay your concerns,” I told her. “I have no experience with chILD, outside of what you just told me. But…there are thousand kids in those stands, who can’t play sports, but still love to go to the games, and they have a great time.” Then a thought occurred to me. “Have you guys even asked Grant how he feels about going to a live game?”

  Her cheeks turn a slight shade of pink. Andie shook her head. “No,” she admitted. “It was a decision Steven and I agreed upon when he’d been diagnosed, and we sort of just left it at that.”

  I nodded my head and thought about everything we’d just discussed. After a few seconds I said, “Okay, there’s a lot to unpack here, but we’re going to start with our relationship, bec-”

  “Our relationship?” Her voice sounded wary again.

  “Yes, our relationship,” I repeated. “We have to become friends or none of this will work.”

  She inclined her head a bit. “None of what will work?”

  “Jesus, woman,” I breathed out. “Pay attention, will you?”

  Her brows shot up. “Oh, trust me, I’m trying. However, you’re making no sense.”

  I narrowed my eyes at her lie. “If we don’t become friends, then how else am I supposed to steer Grant back on the right path?”

  She narrowed her brown eyes right back. “He’s not on the wrong path,” she argued.

  I cocked my head. “His favorite sport is football,” I began, ticking off Grant’s list of offenses with my fingers. “He can’t decide if hockey or baseball is his second. And when it comes to baseball, his favorite team is the Angels. And he thinks Hillman is the best Condors player. Not to mention, he called me good, even though I’m slated for the Hall of Fame.” I put my hand back down, my ticks finished. “There’s a lot wrong with all of that.”

  “You do know this is America, right?” she remarked like a smartass. “In this country, people are entitled to their own opinions.”

  “People have the right to their own opinions all over the world,” I corrected her.

  “Yeah, but in America, you don’t get stoned for them,” she countered.

  “That’s debatable,” I replied. I was raised by a meddling mother. If Sayer, Gideon, or I ever dared to tell Mom our opinions on her meddling ways, we’d be worse than stoned. There was a good chance no one would ever see any of us alive ever again.

  “Look, your mental illness aside, you made a valid point about the live games,” she said. “I’ll talk to Steven about it and see what he says.”

  “And if he says no?” Admittedly, I knew nothing about the guy, but he sounded like a dick so far. I also didn’t like how cozy she seemed with him. Sure, it was absolutely none of my business, but a few of my body parts were eager to become friends with this woman, and so, I needed to know what I was dealing with here.

  Andie shook her head. “Then we’ll talk about it some more,” she replied. “Believe it or not, Grant really is our number one priority.”

  “Why wouldn’t I believe it?”

  She shrugged. “Lots of divorced couples never make it past the hurts and/or betrayals to do what’s best for the children. That’s not me and Steven.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that. I didn’t want to sound like a dick, but it seemed that if Grant was their number one priority, they’d never gotten divorced. Of course, I didn’t know the details, so what did I know? I just knew I didn’t like hearing her speak like they were a team.

  Fuck, I needed to get a grip.

  I stood up, ready to leave. “Okay, so talk to Steven, and then we can get to work on helping Grant see the light.”

  Andie stood when I did, and I could tell she was trying not to laugh again. “You do know you’re going to fail, right?” she asked. “Grant’s loyalty is solid.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  Chapter 9

  Andrea~

  I had expected some friction, but not a full-blown argument.

  After Nathan had left my condo Thursday evening, I had thought a lot about what he had said. Grant was very aware of his lung disease. He knew there were restrictions with his physical activity. He knew there was little to no chance that he’d ever be a sports celebrity. So, would taking him to a game really be so traumatic for him? And how was that any different from him watching the games on television? It was worth talking to Steven about because Nathan really seemed determined to befriend Grant.

  Nathan had also made it crystal clear that his only interest in our household was Grant. After we had spoken some more about Grant’s condition and I had filled him in on everything I knew about chILD, he had asked if he could stop by on Monday to see Grant, and when I had assured him that it would be okay, he had politely excused himself.

  Now, granted, I knew the odds of Grant playing professional soccer were a lot higher than Nathan Hayes being interested in me, but it had been fun to fantasize about the idea. While everything I had said to Rachel was true, a girl couldn’t look at Nathan Hayes and not think things.

  Well, at least, this girl.

  So, when Steven had dropped Grant off a half hour ago, I had asked him if he could stay, so we could talk. He agreed, and since I didn’t want Grant overhearing us, we had gone out to the balcony. However, this time, I made sure to listen for any noises coming from the balcony above us.

  But before I could launch into my spiel, Steven had assured me that he already knew Nathan Hayes was living in the penthouse on the top floor. Apparently, Grant hadn’t shut up about meeting Nathan all weekend.

  Steven had given me the opening I needed, but I quickly found out that hadn’t necessarily been a good thing.

  Our argument kind of confirmed that.

  “Steven, there’s no need to get upset-”

  Steven disagreed. “For three years, we have been doing everything we can to make sure his condition doesn’t worsen, and in one visit from Nathan Hayes, you’ve changed your mind?”

  “No,” I clarified. “He just offered a different perspective that had never occurred to me.”

  Steven crossed his arms over his chest. “Or maybe the more time Grant hangs out with Nathan Hayes, the more time you get to hang out with him, too.”

  My blood pressures spiked, and my blood started to boil.

  “Did you seriously just accuse me of putting Grant’s health at risk just to get Nathan Hayes’ attention?” I couldn’t believe how much I was seething inside. “Are you kidding me?”

  “Are you telling me I’m wrong?”

  “What I’m telling you is to get the hell out of my house,” I snapped. “If that’s what you think of me, get the hell out of my house and don’t ever cross the threshold again.” I was pissed. “You can drop Grant off at the door.”

  Steven’s eyes narrowed. “The first time you suggest we let Grant go to ballgames, and it’s so that Nathan Hayes can take him. Not us. But Nathan Hayes.” Steven stepped to me. “If Grant is finally going to go to a game, why wouldn’t we be the ones to take him? Why Nathan Hayes?” He didn’t let me answer. “Unless…” He let the sentence trail off, and I wanted to slap him.

  “Let’s clear something up, here and now,” I seethed through clenched teeth. “I never said Nathan was going to take him to a game. I said Nathan wanted to take him to a game. And I mentioned Nathan’s point of view because I thought it was worth discussing.” I shook my head. “Of course we’d be the ones to take Gra
nt to his first live sports game ever. Do you honestly think I’d give that experience to someone else?”

  Steven let out a deep breath and raked his fingers through his hair. His green eyes shot my way. “Maybe I just don’t like the idea of you getting chummy with Nathan Hayes,” he retorted.

  I rolled my eyes. “You don’t even know the man,” I pointed out.

  He cocked his head. “Well, maybe, I don’t like the idea of you getting chummy with any man,” he clarified, and my heart sank.

  I understood exactly what Steven meant, and that wasn’t fair. He was overstepping. I knew it and he knew it. But men were stupid that way.

  “You don’t get to say that, Steven,” I told him. “Especially, since you moved on from that part of our marriage and divorce ages ago.”

  I’ll never forget the evening he had dropped Grant off, only to tell me he had started dating again. It was about eight months after our divorce was finalized, and while I knew he’d eventually move on, it had still hurt. Not in a jealous, heartbroken way, but more of a stamp of finalization that our marriage was, indeed, over.

  However, I had been grateful that he had told me, and I hadn’t had to hear about it on social media or through gossip. And to his credit, he hadn’t looked happy about the conversation either. There was also the fact that it had taken eight months, after our divorce, before he could bring himself to get back out there again.

  It was hard when a divorce was due to irreconcilable differences. It was sad to know that we just hadn’t been able to work things out. Our emotions had gotten the better of us, and we hadn’t been able to climb out of the tangled web that had trapped us.

  “Maybe not,” he conceded. “But that doesn’t change the way I feel, Andie.”

  “You don’t get to be jealous, Steven,” I repeated.

  “I’m not jealous,” he denied. He let out a soft sigh. “I know I’m the reason we got divorced. I know it. But that doesn’t mean I no longer care about you or feel the need to look out for you. You’re still my family, Andie. You and Grant are still the most important things in the world to me. You will always be my son’s mother, and I don’t want to have to stand back and watch you get swept away by the likes of Nathan Hayes.”

  “The likes?” I choked out in a strangled laugh.

  “C’mon, Andie,” he grimaced. “A professional athlete? As beautiful as you are, I doubt the man’s used to being monogamous.” That was one thing I was never lacking with Steven. My confidence had been strong in our marriage because I knew Steven really believed me to be beautiful.

  “And because of that very thing, I am positive Nathan Hayes is not interested in me, Steven,” I reiterated. “The man can have anyone on the planet he wants. There’s no way he wants a divorced mother of a young son.”

  Steven scoffed.

  I grinned.

  “Steven, he was just really impressed with how knowledgeable Grant was in sports,” I told him. “He took an interest, and that is it.”

  Steven nodded, then dragged me into his arms in a tight hug. “Just be careful, Andie,” he muttered in my hair.

  “This is about Grant,” I reassured him. “Just Grant.”

  Steven pulled back and gave me an unconvincing nod. “Look, I’ll think about it this week,” he promised. “But if we do this, then it’s us taking him to his first game, and it’s going to be a football game.” I smiled. “Since football is his favorite sport, that’s what we’ll give him. The regular season doesn’t start until September, but that’ll give us plenty of time to get tickets, or whatever.”

  I looked at him and knew that if this had been the Steven I had been dealing with when Grant had been diagnosed, we’d still be married. But no matter how far he’s come, there was no way I could ever forget how cruel and self-absorbed he’d been that year following Grant’s diagnosis.

  We went back inside the house, and Grant was watching Sports Center. When he saw us, he looked irritated. “They’re talking about trading Grier Malone next season,” he announced. “Who in their right mind would trade Grier Malone?”

  My brows rose. “And…”

  “He’s the best striker in soccer, Mom,” he replied, as if I should know this.

  “Sometimes it’s not about the talent, bud,” Steven said. “Maybe he’s not getting along with his teammates or something.”

  “It’s not that hard to get along with people,” he grumbled, but then, he was just a kid. He didn’t know yet that people sucked.

  Steven looked over at me. “Do you mind if I hang out a bit?” It wasn’t an odd request. Steven’s hung out plenty of times since we moved here.

  I nodded. “Sure.” Then I went to the bedroom to get my Kindle, so that he and Grant could hang out in front of the television.

  All things considered, it could be worse.

  Chapter 10

  Nathan~

  I had expected some friction, but not a full-blown argument.

  But this little dude was really arguing with me.

  “All I’m saying is that all those sports records aren’t a true reflection of the player or players,” Grant repeated, sounding all as if his opinion was fact.

  “So, you’re saying when a…quarterback throws for a pass that exceeds the previous record, it’s bullsh-crap?”

  “Apples and oranges,” he replied, this time, sounding like he was eighteen instead of eight.

  “Apples and oranges?”

  The goddamn kid rolled his eyes at me. Currently, we were sitting in his living room while Andrea was making us lunch. It was Monday, and after allowing enough time to deem appropriate, I had been knocking on their door, ready to start my mentoring. Grant was lost, and I needed to fix this.

  “Only season records are accurate, Nathan,” he said. He had started off our visit with some Mr. Hayes nonsense that I quickly squashed. Friends didn’t need to be so formal with each other.

  “How so?” I asked because the kid’s logic was like a bad car wreck. I couldn’t help but be fascinated.

  “If I play football for only ten seasons, but you play for thirteen, well, of course, you’re going to exceed my pass record, or touchdown record, or whatever. You played longer than I did,” he replied without the ‘duh’, even though that was clearly implied in his tone. “The real measure is when you compare what you did within those ten years to what I did in those ten years.”

  Fuck, the kid had a point.

  “But if we’re talking stats or records within just the season and not a player’s career length, well, those are more accurate because the time frame is the same. Apples, apples,” he went on. “Specific timelines are the only real comparison. If I compare your rookie season with Hal Roberts’ rookie season, then that’s a fair comparison. But Hal has more seasons under his belt than you do.”

  “Okay, so then, what happens to your theory if I’ve played fewer seasons than Hal, but break all his records?”

  The little shit rolled his eyes at me again. “Nothing happens to my theory,” he returned. “It’s still the same concept. We’d be comparing your ten years to Hal’s first ten years. And if you broke all his records, then you’d be better than him, clearly.” Before I could comment he continued with his lopsided logic. “If a player plays five years longer than you did, and didn’t break any of your records, he sucks.”

  I stared at this kid who had more knowledge of sports than anyone I’ve ever met and was just blow the hell away. He was only eight, for fuck’s sake.

  “Why do you love sports so much?”

  Grant scrunched of his face, and he looked to be giving it some real thought. Finally, he said, “I like that they’re the best. Even if you’re third-string, or whatever, you were still good enough to get there.”

  “Your mom doesn’t like sports much, does she?” After the night she explained all about Grant’s health issues, it had been hard to get up and walk out as if we were just casual friends. Hell, we weren’t even really friends, at this point. We were friendly neig
hbors because I liked her son. But I couldn’t deny my dick got hard at the thought of the woman, and she seemed just so refreshingly different from the women who’ve chased my pro-ball status.

  Grant shrugged a shoulder. “She’s a book editor,” he said. “I think she likes books more.” That would explain why she could work from home.

  “What’s your dad do?”

  “He sells houses and buildings and things,” he said, explaining what must be a real estate agent.

  I nodded, letting him know I understood. “Your mom seems nice,” I hedged. “But I still haven’t met your dad.”

  “Dad stayed after on Sunday when he dropped me off,” he casually mentioned, not realizing he’d just kicked my chest in. “If he stays next time, I can go get you.”

  “Does your dad stay the night a lot?” I was officially pumping an eight-year-old for information about his parents, and I’d have to say, this was a super new low in my life. But he mentioned it first, right?

  Grant shook his head. “He doesn’t stay the night,” he clarified. “He just stays and hangs out with me a little more sometimes.” Grant smiled big. “He says he misses me when I’m not with him.”

  “What’s not to miss, bud?” I mean, seriously? This kid was awesome.

  “Well, Mom misses me, too, when I’m not here, so they’re just going to have to get used to sharing me,” he stated, and I marveled at how much older this kid sounded when he spoke sometimes.

  “Have they been sharing you long?” I inwardly cringed because this really was a new low, but I was interested in Andrea, so any little bit of information helped.