Two years later
The house is packed with people and laughter, but for me, the tension has never been higher. Isaac was supposed to be snatched up in the fourth round. It’s the now the sixth round and so far, nothing.
He’s gotten several phone calls saying he’s up next, but none of it has panned out. Jack and Hank both say that’s pretty normal. Deals are being made behind the scenes the whole time, and any of those deals can change things in an instant. That doesn’t make it any easier though. And for all their calming words, the tension radiating off the two coaches, Jack in particular, is obvious.
This is what we’ve all been working for. What we’ve all sacrificed for. All that gear my former co-workers gave us because I couldn’t afford it when he was in high school, the hours upon hours of travel Amanda and I did in support, the scholarship Jack gave him long before we’d met—it all led up to this moment.
The NFL Draft.
We expected a long two days. We just didn’t expect for it to be this long. And the more names that are knocked off the board, the more Jack’s shoulders rise. He’s nervous. Really nervous. And there’s nothing any of us can do to eliminate those nerves.
Jack and Isaac have become relatively close over the last two years. It’s not like a father/son relationship. More like a mentoring friendship. They’ve moved past only talking football. They talk relationships and future options. They talk about when Jack played in college, and the lessons he learned there. Nothing is off limits.
And Jack has been vital in helping us through this draft thing. He already knew of a good agent, highly recommended by some former players of his who had gone pro, as well as a financial planner to help Isaac through contract issues. I never would have known where to go with all that, so I’m beyond grateful. I know he would have done it for any of his players, but knowing Jack, he went above and beyond for our family.
As anticipated, the minute Isaac’s name and “the draft” started being spoken in the same sentence, Charlie showed up again. This time it was short-lived. Isaac answered his call one time and told Charlie he looked forward to seeing him in the stands if he ever went to a game. It shut Charlie down quickly. But I’m proud of Isaac. He didn’t shut the door on a relationship with his father. He merely put the ball back in his dad’s court. I know he still has hope that his dad will be an upstanding guy someday. I don’t have the same hope, but maybe that’s the mom in me.
For the last two days, our friends and family have kept us relatively calm and entertained during the down times. Renee, Amanda, and my mom have been keeping the food stocked and the house clean while I kind of wander around in a daze, not really sure what to do.
Greg and Elena’s four girls have been doing talent and fashion shows for us. I’m pretty sure only Greg, Elena, and I actually find it cute. Everyone else just tolerates it. But my house, my rules, so later on we’ll all be getting our hair and nails done during beauty parlor time. I’ve already picked out the color for Hank’s fingers. He’s less than thrilled by how happy it makes me that Renee is forcing him to participate.
Greer and her family are also here. Oli has done a really good job of staying calm and focused, despite the stress level surrounding him. He started working on a ranch a couple years ago and we all agree it’s helped calm him tremendously. Like having a connection with the animals cures a part of him that was broken. It’s weird how finding that one thing that makes you happy can sometimes be the key to so many of your problems.
The downside is, since he still has some resistance to doing the basic daily chores required to maintain good hygiene, he smells like a cow pretty much all the time. But I’m not complaining. One battle at a time.
Oli’s new baby sister may have helped him a bit, too. Yes, I said baby sister. That’s a story in and of itself. She came as a huge surprise to everyone, especially Greer, but she’s been a joy to all of us. And today, she’s also been a good distraction. Well, for a while. There’s only so long you can make faces at an infant before your mind starts wandering again.
I’m feeling so much pressure, and I can’t imagine how hard it must be on my son. I know he’s discouraged and second guessing his entire career. Did he do enough? Did he train hard enough? Did he push as hard as he could at the draft combine? I’m sure his mind is running in circles and somewhere around the 160th draft pick, he disappeared. That was hours ago. I’d look for him, but I know he needs this time alone. And probably he needs time away from the roomful of people that keep shooting him pitying glances whenever he doesn’t get called. They’re all rooting for him, but they know how let down he feels every time the pick goes to someone else.
“Joie!” I hear Jack call from the living room. “It’s on!”
I walk back into the room and sit down next to him, clasping our hands together. His thumb pushes the full-carat rock back and forth on my finger. He loves that ring. About six months ago he asked me to marry him, and of course I said yes. Will we actually go through with it? Who knows? But being engaged seemed to solidify to any doubters that we’re in this for the long haul. Not that the doubters matter. We just wanted something more officially than just “living together” so it works for us.
I squeeze Jack’s hand and bite my lip. He bounces his knee up and down. We’ve done this 185 times already. 185 times someone official has stood on that podium and announced another draft pick. 185 times of us having a sliver of hope that my son is about to reach his goal. 185 times we’ve all felt his defeat. 185 times of reminding ourselves that there are still more spots open.
We watch as a representative of the Detroit Lions stands on the stage. There are several people with him, but I have no idea who they are. Nor do I care. I squeeze Jack’s hand harder as my nerves get the best of me.
“Here we go,” I vaguely hear Hank say from the chair next to us.
“In the 186th pick by the Detroit Lions, they’ve chosen offensive lineman from Flinton State University, Isaac Stevens.”
I stare at the television in disbelief. The only sound I hear is the blood rushing in my ears, despite knowing there are cheers all around me. Suddenly, Isaac’s name crosses the screen and it hits me that it’s happening. This is real. He did it. My son is going to the NFL.
As quickly as it hits me, I’m lifted off the feet I didn’t realize I was standing on and hoisted into Isaac’s arms.
“We did it, Mama,” he whispers in my ear, his voice clogged with emotion. “We did it. I’m going to the pros!”
“I’m so proud of you, baby,” I say, my own voice full of happy tears. “You worked so far for this.”
“Dammit. Now I have to stock up on Lions memorabilia.” I barely register Hank’s latest gripe as I embrace my son. After a long moment, he sets me down and wipes his eyes, not caring that people are seeing him cry while he accepts their congratulations. For the first time, he doesn’t look like my little boy to me. He looks like a grown-up. A grown man who is ready to be out on his own. Who I feel confident will make good choices and decisions. A grown man I’m proud to say I raised to be a good man.
Jack pulls me to him as the tears continue to roll down my face. “You okay?”
I nod up at him. “Yeah. I’m damn near perfect.”
He smirks at my choice of language and holds me tighter.
Sure, it’s been a long road getting to where we are now, and an even longer day, but I wouldn’t change a thing. I’ve never been more full of pride and joy.
Curious about Jack’s sister, Greer?
Look for her story coming Summer 2018!