always exactly where he was
supposed to be,” Chase interrupted.
Another grizzled reporter raised his
hand. Chase glanced and pointed at
him.
“Chase, everyone in New England has very
big hopes for you. You’re widely
considered to be the savior of the franchise.”
Chase laughed at this comment, but it
wasn’t a happy laugh. “Bring it
on,” he said, waving the man to continue.
“Well, I’m wondering if you think perhaps
the pressure of all of these fans’ hopes and dreams being placed on your
shoulders has been too much. Do you
think maybe it’s time to recalibrate the expectations of your NFL career?”
“Whose expectations?” Chase said, his
eyes getting intense. “Mine or
yours?”
“Both,” the man shot back.
“Yes,” Chase told him, and the press
murmured.
“So you’re saying—“
“I’m just a guy who plays football,
okay? I’m not any different from
anyone else.”
“But Chase,” the grizzled veteran spoke
up yet again.
“Yeah?”
“You have to know that people do expect
more from you. You make a lot of
money because you supposedly function at a very high level, higher than the
rest of us.”
Chase’s answer was biting. “I never said I deserved to be paid this
much. It’s just a football game.”
Now the reporters were furiously
mumbling, typing, writing notes, and exchanging shocked glances.
Faith felt sicker than ever. She put a hand over her mouth, as
someone from the Patriots’ staff stepped in and smartly ended the questions,
stating that Chase had just played a tough game and had graciously answered
enough for the day.
People were still shouting questions at
him as he left the podium and made his way out of the room.
He looked over towards Faith and gestured
for her to follow, and so she grabbed her purse, scooted out of her seat and
ran over to fall in behind him as he left the press conference.
***
On the drive home, Chase was sullen.
Faith didn’t want to upset him with
questions, especially since he’d certainly been harangued enough by the
press—and there would be lots more to come.
She could already envision the headlines
that would come out:
CHASE WINTERS SAYS HE DOESN’T DESERVE THE
MONEY
IT’S JUST A FOOTBALL GAME, WHINES
DISGRACED NFL STAR
But at the same time, she couldn’t help
but wonder just what Chase was hiding. His performance had truly been abysmal, and she didn’t believe it was
just an “off day.”
No, he’d avoided throwing to Velcro like
the man had the plague.
And if Chase had secrets, there was no way for Faith to know just how dark and deep those secrets were . Or how much of his life had been
corrupted because of his past.
She kept replaying the moment where Chase
showed her the painting in his bedroom with thousands of dollars stuffed inside
of it, and the references he’d made to a life filled with secrets and danger.
A mental picture of Chase’s old friend
Boogie floated into her mind—the sly smile on his face, the comments he’d
made about Chase getting in trouble if the cops were called.
“I feel sick,” Faith finally admitted, as
she wondered if she was going to vomit in Chase’s car.
He glanced at her, some concern written
on his face. “Do you want me to
pull over?”
She hesitated, thinking that perhaps the
nausea was passing. The worst of it, anyway. She took a deep breath and then
exhaled. “No, not yet. Maybe I’ll be okay.”
“What’s wrong?” he asked, shifting gears
in the sports car as they hit the highway.
She had to laugh. What’s not wrong? She thought. That’s a better question with a shorter
list of answers.
“Something funny about my question?” he
said.
She stopped laughing and shook her
head. “You know what’s wrong,
Chase.”
“Faith, I’m the one who played badly. If anyone should be puking after today’s
game, it’s me. You need to stop
worrying so much,” he told
supposed to be,” Chase interrupted.
Another grizzled reporter raised his
hand. Chase glanced and pointed at
him.
“Chase, everyone in New England has very
big hopes for you. You’re widely
considered to be the savior of the franchise.”
Chase laughed at this comment, but it
wasn’t a happy laugh. “Bring it
on,” he said, waving the man to continue.
“Well, I’m wondering if you think perhaps
the pressure of all of these fans’ hopes and dreams being placed on your
shoulders has been too much. Do you
think maybe it’s time to recalibrate the expectations of your NFL career?”
“Whose expectations?” Chase said, his
eyes getting intense. “Mine or
yours?”
“Both,” the man shot back.
“Yes,” Chase told him, and the press
murmured.
“So you’re saying—“
“I’m just a guy who plays football,
okay? I’m not any different from
anyone else.”
“But Chase,” the grizzled veteran spoke
up yet again.
“Yeah?”
“You have to know that people do expect
more from you. You make a lot of
money because you supposedly function at a very high level, higher than the
rest of us.”
Chase’s answer was biting. “I never said I deserved to be paid this
much. It’s just a football game.”
Now the reporters were furiously
mumbling, typing, writing notes, and exchanging shocked glances.
Faith felt sicker than ever. She put a hand over her mouth, as
someone from the Patriots’ staff stepped in and smartly ended the questions,
stating that Chase had just played a tough game and had graciously answered
enough for the day.
People were still shouting questions at
him as he left the podium and made his way out of the room.
He looked over towards Faith and gestured
for her to follow, and so she grabbed her purse, scooted out of her seat and
ran over to fall in behind him as he left the press conference.
***
On the drive home, Chase was sullen.
Faith didn’t want to upset him with
questions, especially since he’d certainly been harangued enough by the
press—and there would be lots more to come.
She could already envision the headlines
that would come out:
CHASE WINTERS SAYS HE DOESN’T DESERVE THE
MONEY
IT’S JUST A FOOTBALL GAME, WHINES
DISGRACED NFL STAR
But at the same time, she couldn’t help
but wonder just what Chase was hiding. His performance had truly been abysmal, and she didn’t believe it was
just an “off day.”
No, he’d avoided throwing to Velcro like
the man had the plague.
And if Chase had secrets, there was no way for Faith to know just how dark and deep those secrets were . Or how much of his life had been
corrupted because of his past.
She kept replaying the moment where Chase
showed her the painting in his bedroom with thousands of dollars stuffed inside
of it, and the references he’d made to a life filled with secrets and danger.
A mental picture of Chase’s old friend
Boogie floated into her mind—the sly smile on his face, the comments he’d
made about Chase getting in trouble if the cops were called.
“I feel sick,” Faith finally admitted, as
she wondered if she was going to vomit in Chase’s car.
He glanced at her, some concern written
on his face. “Do you want me to
pull over?”
She hesitated, thinking that perhaps the
nausea was passing. The worst of it, anyway. She took a deep breath and then
exhaled. “No, not yet. Maybe I’ll be okay.”
“What’s wrong?” he asked, shifting gears
in the sports car as they hit the highway.
She had to laugh. What’s not wrong? She thought. That’s a better question with a shorter
list of answers.
“Something funny about my question?” he
said.
She stopped laughing and shook her
head. “You know what’s wrong,
Chase.”
“Faith, I’m the one who played badly. If anyone should be puking after today’s
game, it’s me. You need to stop
worrying so much,” he told
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