The Education of Giacomo Jones Ch. 04

"Come in here," the coach said, leading Rance into his office. Rance took a seat in one of two chairs across the desk from Perry Hemphill's desk while the coach reached into a credenza behind his desk and pulled out a slightly scuffed football. On it were signatures made in metallic gold with a Sharpie.

"We dedicated the LSU game to Gia," the coach said.

Rance had deliberately avoided watching television all weekend. Had he watched, he would have seen Mason Gerow, chosen as the game's top player, say during an on-field interview with CBS Sports after the game that the team was dedicating this win to Gia Jones and Rance Martin and wishing them the best as they deal with the events of the past week.

On the ball, professionally calligraphed, was the game's score: Fulbright 32, LSU 21. And the inscription: "For Giacomo Jones, 10/16/2021."

Rance was touched. His chin quivered.

"You two mean a lot to this team, son," the head coach said softly.

Rance thanked him, wiped his eyes, cleared his throat and collected himself.

"Coach, thank you for all the help you've been last week. There's no way I can express what it meant to Gia and me. We had to get away for a while. We went to a lake house with our families way out in the Tennessee woods and we both made it a point not to watch any TV at all, so I didn't see the game and I haven't seen any of the crap that passes for news since early last week, so I am a little out of the loop," Rance said.

"But just now, that TV crew that was packing up to leave saw me and ran over for an ambush interview and the reporter tells me he hears that I'm going to sit out the rest of the season and that I am going to transfer. All of which was news to me. I've never even thought such a thing. Where do they get this shit, or do they just make it up?" he said.

"I haven't even had a chance or the inclination to really think about it. This thing - it was awful beyond anything I can possibly describe to you, coach. It was much worse for Gia. She was right there in the middle of it on her hands and knees when it went down. The dead guy's body fell on her legs," he said.

The coach winced at the description. He could see that Rance's eyes were still haunted, that it still dominated his consciousness. And he knew he couldn't expect him to prepare mentally or physically for the next weekend's game at Kentucky.

"Rance, you're making your counseling sessions, right?" he asked. Rance nodded.

"Good. I want you to continue and I want Gia to keep on with her therapy sessions as well. I want you and Gia to keep the medical staff in the know about how you're doing and what you need because HIPPAA prevents your doctors from communicating with our staff," the coach said.

"I don't think you're ready to return to the active roster yet, Rance. I can see it in your eyes. You need time to work this out and while we miss you at starting right tackle, getting you healthy is our priority," the coach said. "I am going to ask the trainer to set you up with a conditioning schedule to keep you in shape physically while you heal emotionally and mentally."

As much as Rance missed the discipline, camaraderie and sense of mission that only comes from being part of a team, he knew Coach Hemp was right. Football at this level required an even greater mental investment than a physical one, and there simply was not enough room in his mind yet for the demands of game week and the horrors of Geno Millions to coexist.

"Coach, I want to come back, but I want to be ready when I come back. So thank you. This is the right thing," Rance said.

"The training staff is expecting you, so I want you to go by there and get your conditioning all scheduled. And after that: I need you to go see Mitch Glazer over in the mother ship. See what he can do to help with this media crap."

Mitch Glazer? This can't be good, Rance thought to himself but kept it unspoken.

"Oh, one last thing: you want to take Gia's ball to her?" the coach said.

"Thanks, coach, but I think it would mean more to her coming directly from you whenever she's up to it," Rance said.

It took about 20 minutes with the strength and training staff to go over the two-week conditioning regimen that would account for the coming week before the Kentucky game and the week afterward, Fulbright's bye week - an open date. After that, it would be time to reassess whether Rance would be ready to rejoin the team leading up to the game with undefeated Georgia.

Then, he walked from the football practice facility to the athletics executive offices that the coaches and players all called "the mother ship." Mitch Glazer was expecting him.

"Coach Hemp tells me you got ambushed by that bunch of yokels from Channel 8 walking into the facility this morning," Glazer said. "We've been getting those calls nonstop since it happened last week, Rance. I don't know for sure who is feeding them this shit, but I have an idea and I am setting a trap for him."

Rance nodded.

"But regardless of who it is this time, bullshit like this is going to keep happening until the world hears from you, Rance. News abhors a vacuum, and garbage like this fills it until you put something out there that corrects and owns the narrative," Glazer said.

"What are you saying, Mitch," Rance said. "I'm nowhere close to being ready to talk about what happened and I know Gia's not. Anybody trying to get to her has to come over me first," Rance said in a steely tone.

"Relax, Rance," Glazer said. "Nobody here is expecting you to say or do anything until you and Gia are ready. But when you are, I have a recommendation."

"Yeah, what's that?"

"Bill Whitaker."

"Who's Bill Whitaker," Rance said.

"‛60 Minutes.'" Glazer said, pausing to let the gravity of it sink in. "Bill Whitaker is one of their lead correspondents."

Even Rance, a poster child for Generation Z, knew that the venerable CBS weekly newsmagazine, the longest running in television history that has aired every Sunday night since the 1960s, is the standard to which all similar broadcasts aspire. His parents had introduced him to it, but he had come to independently respect its journalism, particularly for the major broadcast networks.

"I became friends with Bill decades ago. I used to bring him along to Jets and Giants games in the Meadowlands when I lived in New York and had access to tickets through SI," he said. "I trust him and I approached him confidentially last week about possibly doing this story on the promise that he could be guaranteed exclusivity if you and Gia agree, Rance. He didn't have to think about it for even a moment."

"OK, but when does he want to do it, because I don't know how long it's going to take for either Gia or me to talk to anybody about this," Rance said.

"As long as it's exclusive to him and ‛60 Minutes,' he's flexible. He'd set up a sitdown with a film crew somewhere safe, somewhere private, a place where you both feel comfortable. Nobody would know that there even was an interview until CBS puts up promos the week before it airs. Bill's a serious journalist and he's going to ask serious questions, but they'll be fair questions, not a bunch of stupid 'gotcha!' bullshit," Glazer said.

Rance nodded. "Let me run this by Gia when I think she's ready. She's not now. I sort of like the idea, but for right now, how do we keep these vultures off of us and keep bullshit like me not playing and transferring off the air."

"Let me handle that. Meantime, you go to class, look after Gia, keep yourself in shape and keep your mouth shut when these rodents crawl out of the woodwork and shove a mic in your face," Glazer said. "Just keep walking."

●●●

The last time Fulbright began a season at 6-1, Dwight Eisenhower was in the White House. But that was the Generals' record as they returned from Lexington, Kentucky, with a 28-24 win over a third opponent who was ranked in the Associated Press poll. The mighty green and gold were ranked themselves. They climbed from No. 14 to No. 11 in the sportswriters' poll on the strength of the Kentucky victory and were ranked 12th in the USA Today coaches' poll. And no matter what happened the rest of the season, the Generals had already achieved eligibility for their first postseason bowl since they finished 6-5 in the 2004 season and lost a bowl game to Texas Tech in a miserable late December downpour in Shreveport, Louisiana.

Gia and Rance on Wednesday had driven Calvita Jones back to the Charlotte Amtrak station for her return trip to New Jersey, a parting that was very difficult for both mom and daughter. The drive back was almost silent, neither able to say much. It was the first time the two of them had been alone except for their hours fishing on Watts Bar Lake in almost two weeks. Rance at least took comfort that Gia had clasped his hand for the entire round trip - tightly at times.

At least enough time had lapsed that Rance could watch the Kentucky game with Gia in her room at the Marriott Courtyard Hotel on Saturday. The university and the State Police had moved her from the Holiday Inn Express after word got out that she was sheltering there and those TV crews encamped for days on the hotel parking lot. As much as she hated the cold, impersonal hotel room, Gia still could not bear the thought of re-entering the Honors College hall. She doubted that she could ever go in there again.

As they watched the game, Rance turned to her and away from the screen. He began stroking the contours of her cheekbones and her jawline, her long and elegant neck and the lustrous black hair around it. He peppered her with soft kisses, including those on her ears and the back of her neck that drove once drove her wild. But on this day, even as Bookie Riemers broke tackles and Matt Gerow completed 62 percent of his passes on the television in front of her, Gia's mind retreated deep within herself, taking her ability to feel emotions with it. It's as though the wide-awake nightmare of that morning in the Honors College main-floor vending area consumed too much of even her extraordinary mental bandwidth, constantly re-running the horrifying scene she had been part of.

"I love you, Gia," he would whisper into her ear. She would turn, look at him with a genuine but sorrowful and burdened gaze, and say, "I know, and I love you, too, Rance. But I can't make this... this... evil depart from me."

Rance wrapped his arms around her as they sat propped in the bed.

"I hope you won't give up on me before I figure this out, Rance," she said as her fingers caressed his face with a sense of desperation.

"I won't baby," he said. And he meant it.

Rance's workouts, done in the mornings around his class schedules rather than during hours when the team would practice, were demanding. He had lost significant conditioning in the week after the Vanderbilt game that was blown up by the violent arrival of Geno Millions and his grisly demise. His training regimen packed nonstop motion, lifting and agility drills into a tight 75 minutes. Aside from arresting his possible slide into falling out of shape, it helped him refocus his mind and reconnect him to the team.

Gia had no such outlet, and Rance felt the need to draw her out of her shell, out of this depression or whatever it was that seemed to darken her waking existence. To reconnect her with the world before she slid deeper into hopelessness and away from him. He had a plan, something that might start moving her in that direction.

He contacted Coach Perry Hemphill and asked him if the first practice back after a few days off at the start of the bye week might be a good time to take him up on the raincheck he had taken on personally giving the dedicated LSU game ball to Gia. He thought it was a good idea.

"Coach, she's not going to know about this 'til we get there," he said. "From you, she will see that this school and this team cares about her. But if I try to take her there with her knowing about it in advance, she'll fight me on it."

So they decided to time it for 2 p.m. on the Wednesday after the Kentucky game. Gia knew from experience that 2 p.m. was well before the start of practice, which normally didn't begin until 3:30. And since this was the first time the team would be together after being given the first two days of the bye week off after the win over the Wildcats, it would be a light workout in shorts, shirts and helmets without pads and there was no need to arrive early.

Both of them finished their classes for the day by 1 p.m. on Wednesday. It had become something of a custom for them to go to the Sonic drive-in after classes on that day for a No. 2 double cheeseburger and a large Route 44 soft drink - Diet Coke for Gia, ginger ale for Rance. On the way back to his apartment, the plan called for him to remember a textbook he'd left in his locker in the practice facility. He'd ask her to come in with him while the place is somewhat deserted as he retrieved the book and just reconnect a bit.

Rance picked her up outside the building where she had finished her class and they drove to Sonic. Her mood seemed more upbeat because of what had happened in class. She told Rance that her professor had posed a trick question to the advanced molecular biology class. Gia recognized it and pointed out that there was no correct answer to the question as posited, and that either he had meant to ask the question slightly differently - which did have an answer several students were ready to give - or that the question was a trick.

The professor smiled and nodded.

"Every semester, I ask a question very much like that to see who's paying attention because failure to pay attention can ruin everything - disastrously - in molecular biochemistry. Most years, people reflexively spit out the answer they're preconditioned to give based on an inattentive understanding of the question. Only occasionally does a student spot this question, and rarely do they call it out when they do because they think it will insult me. Miss Jones, you're that rare student this semester. Congratulations," the professor said.

What happened next astonished the professor as much as it did Gia. The entire class, all of whom knew what had happened to her in the Honors College dorm, came to their feet and applauded her. This was about more than the brilliance of spotting a trick question. It was a spontaneous release in which her classmates who had had remained silent out of respect for her saw the right moment to express their appreciation for her and what she had endured.

Gia looked around in bewilderment at the spontaneous ovation, failing for a moment to recognize what was happening.

Slowly she stood by her classroom desk, turned to face her classmates surrounding her, thanking them, her hands clasped before her in a show of gratitude. Tears spilled from her eyes even as she smiled and felt her heart expand toward them.

As the applause slowed, one classmate said, "We love you, Gia."

The professor called her to the front of the class.

"This is totally unplanned. They've said what they feel, now let me speak as faculty. What you did during that horrifying situation you did because you knew the danger Susan Morton was in, and you knew your life would be in tremendous danger, too, but it was Susan's only way out," the professor said in an even and low voice. "Courage is not the absence of fear but the will to act in the face of that fear. And I am compelled to sat that to you that now because, thanks to you, Susan Morton was back in my 9 o'clock class this morning."

That provoked a second ovation, but by then the hallway was packed with people who had heard the earlier ovation in and gathered in the hall from other classes - students and professors - and craned their necks and even dared open the closed door to see what the applause was for. Now they joined the celebration in the hallway.

Rance listened wide-eyed while Gia told her story as he drove. He had to pull over to fully take it in. It touched Rance deeply, not just because of its spontaneous nature but for the good it had clearly done for Gia. He also fretted that what awaited her in a little over an hour with Coach Hemp on the indoor practice field would be hard-pressed to match what had just happened in a science class.

Gia seemed more engaged than Rance had seen her since all of this started as they sat in his car and ate their burgers, tots and sodas. When Lizzo's "Truth Hurts" rolled around on Rance's iTunes shuffle, she turned the car's stereo volume up and sang along the way she used to: "Best friend sat me down in the salon chair. Shampoo press get you out of my hair. New photos with the bomb lighting. New man on the Minnesota Vikings..."

Rance just looked at her and drank it all in, looking silently at her and smiling, thinking (hoping?) that his Gia was back, or at least on the journey back.

As they were leaving Sonic, he told her he needed to stop by the football facility to pick up a book he had left in his locker and asked her if she'd like to go in for a quick look-around before the team started trickling back in for their first practice of the bye week.

"Let's see when we get there. If I see any media, not only am I not getting out of the car, you're turning it around and we're getting out of there," she said.

"Deal," he said.

He pulled his car into a slot close to the back entrance the players normally use that's closest to the locker room. Gia took a quick look around but saw no one, press or otherwise. Rance scanned his access tag against the card reader beside the glass double doors and opened them for Gia. They walked past a foyer filled with trophies and into the cavernous building covering an entire regulation football field surrounded by a running track. Rance laced his fingers in hers, turned to her and said, "Let's just feel what it's like to stroll on the field again."

She looked at him oddly. She had no nostalgic feelings about the grass-like artificial turf, but if it made Rance happy...

They had strolled to about the 30 yard line when Perry Hemphill appeared out of the tunnel leading to his office beyond the other end zone walking toward them. Gia froze. Rance smiled at her. "It's OK baby. It's Coach Hemp."

When the coach started slowly clapping his hands as he did at the conclusion of each practice when the team would join in, clapping to his staccato cadence, Rance noticed that he didn't have the ball with him. Was there a wrinkle in the plan he didn't know about? The whole thing confused and momentarily frightened Gia. Suddenly, clapping seemed to be echoing from all directions, the same slow cadence. She looked to her left and saw Mason Gerow walking out the doors leading from the weight room, clapping in sync with his coach. Behind him more players dressed in street clothes, not yet ready for practice, spilled out of the door behind their quarterback.

Now the same sound to her left. There, from the door leading to the training room and equipment management area, came the head trainer and head equipment manager, their top assistants and Gia's fellow student managers. They were clapping, too, in time with Perry Hemphill and the football team, still spilling onto the turf and surrounding Rance and Gia in a big circle.

Behind Perry Hemphill walked all of the assistant coaches, and with them the director of intercollegiate athletics and his staff from the mother ship.

She turned to face Rance and search his face for clues, but he was already looking at her, smiling and drinking in every moment and clapping at the same pace as his coaches, his teammates and everyone else. She and Rance now stood at the center of an ever-growing circle of athletics personnel - players and staff. She turned around, in the direction of the door from which she and Rance had entered, and it, too was filling in. Among those advancing from that direction: Fulbright University's president, Arthur Overshaw, and Lucy Norris, the dean of the College of Arts and Sciences.