|Brian at 34 [message #7026]
||Tue, 29 November 2011 02:14
Registered: April 2006
"Brian Tucker at 34"|
The office was large enough for a conference table and an executive desk, but wasn't lavishly decorated. There wasn't an "I love me" wall. A credenza behind the desk held a family portrait, a small replica of a New York Giants football helmet and a figure-eight of tiny train tracks complete with a six-car train. The door to the office was open.
Brian Tucker was typing on a laptop on his desk. His jacket was off and his tie was pulled down.
Brian's office assistant knocked on the open door. "Mr. Tucker, Ms Foster, your eleven o'clock is here."
Brian closed the laptop. "Ask her to come in, please, Sharon." He stood to welcome his visitor.
Ms Foster was dressed in a power suit - blue jacket, short straight skirt, plain blouse.
"Thank you for sparing me the time, Mr. Tucker."
"Call me Brian. From what you've told me this should be quite quick, Ms Foster. I only played one season."
"Please call me Andrea. The story's about players who left the game early."
Brian gave Andrea a wry smile. "That presupposes that I had the opportunity to stay. You've heard the story before."
"Not in your own words."
Brian sighed slightly. "Okay. I was a good student, not like my brother with a full-ride academic scholarship to Cal Tech, but I was good enough to get a partial soccer scholarship.
"In '07 I was in Albany looking at jobs. There was all the hype about spring training and I just wondered if I could make the team. There are enough jock sniffers in the business community that a gap between graduation and applying wouldn't matter.
"I was flabbergasted when they offered me a spot on the practice squad."
Andrea said, "You must have made quite an impression."
"I think it was probably because I was able to run better than the other guys. Soccer is a ninety-minute, sometimes a two-hour game."
"You were brought in during the season."
"Yes, as a backup extra defensive back and blocker on special teams."
"Let's talk about you on the sidelines before the games."
"Not this again."
"I'm sorry but our readers would be interested."
Brian sighed. "My dad and my godfather are both former Marines. I tend to cry when I hear the National Anthem performed well, and I really hate it when somebody messes around with it. Too many clowns who can't sing any better than I can wind up making noises before the games."
"I can see you are still rather passionate about it."
Brian's angry expression softened as he looked at her. "Yes. Some of those clowns got mad when the networks broadcast my remarks."
"You apologized to some of them."
"Only the ones who proved that they could actually sing it as written. Some of 'em couldn't carry a tune in a sack and got even madder when I told 'em so. I still criticized the ones who just couldn't keep from putting their own styling on it."
"Let's go back to football."
"Yes, let's. Before I get myself into more trouble."
"So, you were a member of the Giants' Super Bowl team."
"I didn't actually play in the Super Bowl; I just played in eight games during the season." Brian showed Andrea a ring on his left hand. "Enough games to qualify for a ring. I had a smaller version made for everyday wear."
"You left football after that season?"
"Yes. I looked at my talents and looked at the competition. I was good, but there were a lot of guys better than I was. I enjoyed football but it wasn't my life. Being on that team was more luck and timing than talent and skill."
"And when you left football you went to Wall Street?"
"Not for long. I got some big bonuses but those guys were just gambling with other people's money. My brother's a genius and he couldn't understand what they were doing."
"So you left."
"So I left. Nobody wanted to believe what I tried to tell them. I'm still kinda ticked that nobody went to jail."
"And now you're here."
[Updated on: Sun, 21 September 2014 17:08]