Page 13 of Wrong Number, Right Grumpy Player

“We lost.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“No.”

The interview ends. I blink. And click on another clip.

“How are negotiations for next season going?”

“I’m focused on the next game.”

Next.

“Can you comment on?—”

“No.”

That’s it. That’s the interview.

I lean back in my chair. “Huh.”

Maybe I’ve been texting a jerk. Except... No. Because jerks don’t remember that I hate tomatoes. Or ask how my dentist appointment went.

Or stay awake talking to me when I can’t sleep because I keep replaying one of the worst days of my career in my head.

I open our text thread instead. There it is.

Good luck with your presentation today.

Don’t forget to eat lunch. I know your day is packed with meetings.

It’s your brother’s birthday today, right? Did he like the grill?

He remembers everything. I stare at another interview. Then back at my phone. These cannot be the same man.

I finally cave.

Can I ask you something?

Always.

I chew my bottom lip.

Delete my first attempt. Then another before finally biting the bullet and starting a message.

Why does everyone think you’re kind of...

I cringe and delete “a dick”. Too rude. Delete and try again three times before settling on a word.

Grumpy?

A full minute passes. Then another. I wonder if I’ve crossed a line.

Finally, his answer appears in a string of rapid messages popping up one after the other.

Because crowds and cameras make me forget how to be a person.

Seriously.