and promotional requirements that come with it.
Opposite coasts.
A three-hour time difference.
None of this helps when I’m already missing my girl something fierce.
At least the weather in Santa Clara is a nice balmy seventy degrees unlike the snow Kay was bitching about them having back home the other day.
Tomorrow we play Alabama for the title of national champions.
For the four days leading up to the game, the SAP Center is transformed to give the residents of the Bay Area, as well as all the fans traveling for the game, what they call a championship campus experience.
It all culminates in the ultimate fan event—Media Day. The free event provides fans the unique opportunity to watch and listen as members of the major national media outlets conduct their interviews with coaches and student athletes from both the U of J and the University of Alabama.
In the past, I’ve never really had an opinion on Media Day. In fact, if asked, I probably would have said I quite enjoy it.
Trav and I have been known to do our interviews at these types of things together, and the press has always eaten up our story like potheads with the munchies. Childhood best friends turned teammates, offensive powerhouses with GQ-model good looks, future pro ballers—all of it is a reporter’s wet dream.
I think the reason Brantley has been having such a hard time adjusting to the new “no comment” stance I’ve taken with the press is because I’ve never shied away from their inquiries in the past. Trav and I used to play up our story as much as we could.
What he’s failing to comprehend is it isn’t just about me anymore. If Kay didn’t have the history she did with the press, things might be different, but for all their “media darling” stories and questions thrown out now, it doesn’t change the fact that Kay has lived through the ugly side of being in the public eye.
Side by side, Trav and I make our way through the SAP Center decked out in the new custom sweatsuits Nike has provided both teams for the event. It sure beats the monkey suits we have to wear after a game, that’s for sure. Over my heart is the Nike swoosh and the championship year, with the U of J Hawk logo and my number on the opposite side of my chest.
There are half a dozen smaller press conference setups spread throughout the space for the athletes who will be interviewed and one large stage with the CFP’s black and gold backdrop for the coaches.
We’re stopped by fans for selfies and autographs, and I do my best to enjoy the moment and not worry about how quickly these pictures will find their way onto UofJ411’s page.
When it’s our scheduled time, we walk to the platform underneath the electronic sign boasting both our names and sit behind the table sporting dual microphones.
Things start off fine. The first ten minutes are spent talking about the team and how we feel being the underdogs in tomorrow’s game. We even have a reporter or two chuckling at our cocky answers.
Then things take a turn.
“Mason.” I look at the journalist who called my name and give him a nod. “Will Kayla be at the game?”
Under the fabric-draped table, where others can’t see, Trav knocks his knee into mine as a reminder to Be cool. As frustrated as I was with my conversation with my stepdad before I left Jersey, I took what he said to heart. Kay even shocked the shit out of me by agreeing. It’s how the epic cheerleading failure happened—showing a little bit of our private life to the public without them getting to know too much.
“She’ll be in the stands rooting for the Hawks to take down the Tide,” I answer, keeping the team at the forefront, not my personal connection.
“How do you think she’ll handle you playing for a different team than her brother next year?” a different reporter asks.
It takes everything in me not to rub the tension headache forming between my eyes. I haven’t officially declared my intention to enter the draft yet, but everyone is acting like it’s a done deal.
It also bugs the shit out of me how they phrase their questions any time the draft does come up. It’s like they’re looking for drama to stir up. Depending on the team I get drafted to, there’s a distinct possibility that E and I don’t play each other in the regular season.
“It should be interesting,”