Page 47 of Sportsball is for Lovers

sixteen

. . .

Jared

I findmy brother in the kitchen.

“Hey, Jare,” Yoni says. He hands me a giant bowl of salad. “Can you put this on the table?”

“What’s she doing here?” I ask instead.

He raises an eyebrow. “Who?”

“Sadie.”

“Uh… she’s my friend?” He looks confused. “Oh, and technically my boss, too, if you want to be pedantic about it.”

“Yeah. So why is she here for the Seder?”

He stares at me. “Because she’s my friend?”

I gape back at him.

“Look, I know you have a hard-on for her or something, but⁠—”

I splutter. “I don’t.”

Yoni raises his eyebrows. “Please. You guys totally hooked up.”

“She told you?”

“No. You did,” he says, like I’m the dumbest person on the planet.

“I don’t kiss and tell,” I snap.

“Except you just did,” he sing-songs. “Also, you disappeared in the middle of that party, never came back, and the hotel door was dead-bolted. She had bite marks all over her neck the next day. More than I needed to know, dude.” He shakes his head. “Yeah, if the two of you didn’t hook up, she slept with someone. And the only one she had eyes for that weekend was you.”

I look around the small apartment. She’s only a few feet away, a glass of wine in her hand as she chats with some of the other guests. “I’m not talking about this right now.”

“Oh, but we definitely will later,” my little brother says with a broad smirk.

He’s such a little shit.

There are six couples here for dinner, not including me and Sadie. I knew my brother and his friends were all settling down, but I didn’t realize I was one of the last dinosaurs that hadn’t coupled up.

So much of my life the last few years has been work, work, work. Being on the road for 82 games a year takes a toll on personal relationships. Hell, the Denver hockey team has a game tonight. Even though I typically ask for all of the Jewish holidays off from my employers, it’s not like I have anyone to share and celebrate them with once I leave the arena or the studio.

My sour mood takes a turn for the worse when Sadie is seated beside me at the dinner table. She’s engaged in conversation with Arielle and Mara, as radiant as ever. Her star shines brightly no matter where she is. I kind of hate her for that.

When I’m on camera, I can be professional. Enthusiastic, even, when it comes to analyzing plays and statistics.

Outside of that?

I’m floundering like a goldfish plucked out of its bowl, left for dead on the side of the road.

Who am I without work? What do I do now?

Sadie virtually ignores me during the quick service—Yoni and Elliott prefer a non-denominational, non-traditional retelling of the Passover story—and all through the ritual meal. Aside from a brief “pass the potato kugel,” she doesn’t talk to me at all.