One Step Beyond Failure

Morning came far too early, and so did the pounding hangover. I hadn’t felt that way in a long time. Squinting from the late morning sun streaming through the window, I somehow managed to get dressed and make myself look at least somewhat decent.

Today I’d have to drive to the stadium and clean out my locker along with everyone else. It was a harsh reality, and one that never got any easier. The season was over. The only thing left to do was look to next year. Even after a Superbowl win, it was still a solemn event. The season was so rigorous, that it took a while to get used to the offseason schedule. It was mentally and emotionally taxing.

Taking some painkillers for the blasting in my head, I got in the car and drove to Gillette. Parking in my reserved spot, I headed into the locker room where many of the other players were already bustling around.

“Hey, Tedy.” Smiling, I greeted my teammate on the way to my locker. He was such a dominant leader and an amazing defensive player, and we were quickly becoming very good friends.

“Hey, Tom!” he gave me a smile of his own, patting me on the shoulder as I walked by.

Seeing the monstrous pile of cardboard boxes with player numbers on them, I found mine and pulled it out, setting it in front of my locker. I placed my hand on the top shelf, hanging my head, just breathing in the familiar scents of grass, Old Spice, and cherry wood. It smelled like home. I let out a deep sigh, massaging my forehead with my fingertips.

“Are you alright?” I suddenly heard a familiar voice behind me, as a warm hand was placed on my shoulder. I didn’t even have to turn around to know it was Drew.

“Eh. I’m hanging in there, Drew.” I answered, catching his eyes like a laser.

Instantly, I could feel the empathy and the connection flow between us. He had been here before. He had felt the stabbing pain of defeat. The same questions haunting me right now had at one time haunted him.

“It gets easier, Tom. You have to believe me. It gets easier. You have a whole future ahead of you, and I know you’re not a quitter. You’ll get what you’re looking for.” he hugged me before moving over to the left to clean out his things.

Number eleven, number twelve. I couldn’t believe that he probably wouldn’t be there next year, next door to me, putting everything back once the season started again. I slumped in the folding chair in front of my locker and slowly started placing things in.

The shoulder pads that I wore to every single game, and other equipment: All the times that defenders had gotten up in my face, pushing me down to the ground, and all the times I had pulled myself up, pressing forward to victory. Or the times where all I could do was slump on the ground, dejected with humbling defeat.

The endless white rolls of athletic tape that one of my trainers would wrap my ankles with before every game. The way it seemed to never end as I stood unraveling it after we played.

The wardrobe of sweatpants and sweatshirts from practice that never got taken home, and all the times I would be outside in New England December with Corey and Kevin, or Troy, or David. Or the few times I was at practice not giving one hundred percent and coach called me out on it, but then later made sure to ask if everything was okay. Or all the times I stared at countless hours of film with tired, lifeless eyes long after everybody had called it a day.

“Tom.” a voice slipped through my thoughts, causing me to snap my head up quickly.

It was Bill’s emotionless face staring back at me, but it was no longer emotionless to me. I had grown to better understand the man behind the tough looking exterior. I understood the miniscule cues that expressed exactly how he felt. Just the simple way he said my name, conveyed so much.

“I think you should get away from here.” he sighed.

“I’ll be on my way home in a minute.” I assured him, folding up the box flaps.

“No. I mean away from the area. Take a vacation, Tom. Go somewhere where you can get some R and R.”

I stared up at him with a stern expression as if to say, “Did you really just suggest that?”

“Just think about it, okay?” he pressed before strolling away with his hands in his pockets.

I knew he wanted me to do more than just “think about it”. He wanted me to listen to him and get away. I figured I would at least humor him and look up some locations that sounded cool to go to, when I got home. Heaving the awkwardly shaped box on my shoulder, I carried it to the car and dumped it in the backseat, the radio singing me home.

…the conversation has run dry. That's what's going on, nothing's fine, I'm torn. I'm all out of faith, this is how I feel. I'm cold and I’m ashamed lying broken on the floor…



After wolfing down some lunch, I was feeling somewhat better. Having nothing else to do, I parked myself in front of the computer. I wasn’t promising anything, that’s for sure, but I began browsing vacation spots. Literally, the words I typed into Google were “vacation spots”.

21 Best US Vacations

Nope. If I was going, it would be out of this country.

Boston Vacation Destinations

As if I couldn’t already travel around Boston with my eyes closed.

Family Vacation Spots
Best Family Vacation Spots | Romantic Getaways and Ideas

It’s like the world was laughing at me. I almost shut off my computer.

Top 10 Vacation Destinations

Well, finally. I clicked on the link, deciding that I would just book a flight to the first location and be done with the whole thing. And then I saw what the first place was: Doha, Oatar.

Doha doesn't attract the hordes of beer-swilling British tourists or the sheer number of hotels that the U.A.E.'s Dubai does, but its beaches are more beautiful and its gourmet restaurants are less crowded.

I closed my eyes and covered my face with my left hand, just sitting like that for about ten seconds.
I made the executive decision that even though I liked to consider myself a man of my word, I was going to pick a different place to spend my vacation. I looked at the next entry.

Rio de Janeiro, Brazil: Although hardly a secret destination, Rio de Janeiro is shedding its image as a sun, sea, and samba town and going for glamour and sophistication.

Sun, sea, and samba, with some sophistication. Sounded fine to me. A lot finer than a place whose name I couldn’t even pronounce, and whose main merit was that it didn’t attract many beer-swilling tourists.

I booked my first class, round trip plane ticket to Rio for the day after tomorrow: February 6th through March 6th. I planned on staying there for a month.

Getting off the computer, I went to pull my luggage set out of the dark abyss of my closet and make some important calls.

“Good evening, Audrey. It’s Tom. Is there any way we could arrange for you to take care of John for the next month? I’m…I think I’m going on vacation to Rio…”