I take a moment to look at the audience. The room is swollen with reporters. My impromptu press conference is filled with the who’s who of sports media. There’s also some mainstream news agencies that I recognize. Did the Entertainment channel send a reporter? Bizarre.
I’m wearing a faded pair of dark jeans that Charlie thinks make my butt look hot. I decided to wear my Super Bowl winner T-shirt as a positive message to my fans, and I have a Dallas Cowboys baseball hat on. I know that this press conference is going to be played ad nauseam on ESPN and all the other sports channels. And now, apparently the mainstream news and gossip rags. At least if I have to watch it hundreds of times, I’m happy with how I look.
I tap the mic ensuring that it’s on, take a deep breath, and let it out slowly before I begin speaking. “Thanks so much for y’all coming in on a Sunday. I know you thought you were getting your weekends back now that football season is over.”
There’s a collective group of chuckles that fill the room.
Pausing for a second, I clear my throat before I continue. “I’ve thought about how to say this and have decided that there is no good or bad way, so I’m going to cut to the chase. I’ve asked you all here to announce my retirement from the game of football.”
There are gasps that fall across the reporters gathered. It’s not too often that they don’t know what’s going to happen in a press conference, hence why I wanted it announced today. No spoilers or leaks. I have to leave the game my way—not on the media’s terms. I feel like my whole adult life has played out in the press. I want to own this moment. This is my farewell speech. My swan song. I’ve got to exit on my terms. I did it my way…
And it feels so damn good.
“It’s been my honor to play quarterback for the Dallas Cowboys organization. I have loved every second that you’ve allowed me to throw the football. My proudest accomplishments are bringing home not one, but two Super Bowl Championships to this franchise, to the great city of Dallas, and to the state of Texas. I’m honored to have played with some of the finest men in the sport that I also call my friends.”
I notice that one of the male sports reporters who’s covered my whole career is crying. Like, a grown man has red-rimmed eyes. In that moment, I realize that my announcement is so much bigger than just me, my family, my team. Me leaving the game of football in my rearview mirror also affects the reporters who I see after every game. A lot of them are the good guys of the media. They never asked me about my personal life, and always directed pointed, fair, questions my way. Their criticisms of my play were usually dead on. I respect these guys so much, and feel myself getting a bit choked up. I clear my throat again.
“I’m sure you want to know why. The best answer that I know how to give is that I want to go out at the top of my career. And two-time Super Bowl-winning, two-time MVP is about as top as I can get.
“Now, I’m ready to begin a new chapter in my life. I’m not sure what that entails yet. I’m going to spend at least a week doing nothing.” I laugh. Doing nothing but making sure my wife, carrying our twins, is healthy and my daughter is happy sounds like bliss right about now. “But, I do know that it includes the jobs of being a husband and father.
“I don’t wish to take any questions at this time. However, I’d like to say thank you to the Cowboys organization and the city of Dallas for your faith and support in me. And to Texas A&M… Gig’em.”
The flash of bulbs is almost blinding, and the clicks from cameras fill the air. Then there is the blanket of whispers, gasps, and sharp intakes of breath. I think I pulled off the impossible. I shocked the media. That makes my half-smile break across my face.
I turn around and exit off the stage slipping behind the curtain, leaving the cacophony of noises behind. Fortunately, there is a chair close by, and I all but sink into it. It’s over with. Done. Finished. My football career is in the books, left for the media and fans to scrutinize. History will make the final judgment on my career. Aiden says that I’m being selfish, but at this moment, I just don’t care what anyone thinks.
I sigh and close my eyes, ignoring the phone buzzing like crazy in my pocket. None of the messages are from Charlie, and she’s the only person that I want right now.
Aiden joins me claiming the seat next to mine. We sit in silence, listening to the different members of the Cowboys’ organization talk about the team’s future. They drone on and on, assuring everyone that there’s a plan in place for my replacement, and that this is why we have an off-season and a draft. The Cowboys are going to be just fine.