The last game of the season is always bittersweet. Whether the season is over before the playoffs, or the team takes the Lombardi Trophy, it's an ending. There isn't a player in the league who doesn't want to taste that big victory. The lure of that Super Bowl ring is what keeps many players out there pushing their limits past their prime.
That's where a good trainer comes in. They can help a player stay in shape, stay focused, and stay well. The players have to put their egos aside and do everything the trainer tells them to do. This is where many players fail. They don't want to be ordered around by anyone. Especially a woman.
My very first trainer's job was at a small Midwestern college. I spent weeks trying to decide what to wear to my first day on the job. It was described as a "get to know you meeting" so I settled on a smart navy skirt and matching sleeveless sweater. The v-neck dipped just low enough to hint at the cleavage of my 36D breasts. The skirt and sweater were the first items of clothing I had ever had tailored to fit, and my curves were on subtle display. I wore black pumps to show off my legs and add another couple of inches to my 5' 10" frame. I had let my hair grow out some over the last few months but it was still too short to do much with, so I just gave it a spritz of hair spray and wore it a little messy. I kissed on a little lipstick and grabbed my bag.
I felt feminine, professional, and excited when I left my apartment for that first day. I wasn't prepared for the reception I received when I walked into the athletic auditorium. I walked to the tables set up for staff while the players whistled and shouted comments about my physique and attire. The head coach frowned at me.
"Perhaps we should have given you a suggestion on what to wear?" Coach West said. "This is a trainer's job, after all."
I stammered an apology as I felt myself blushing furiously. I had not expected the team to be present for our first meeting. I had my sensible khakis and polo shirts for work all ready. I felt immature and unprepared. I should have tried to find out more about this first meeting before just showing up. Lesson learned.
After that day, the lessons were much easier. I was well prepared for the job and worked my way up to head trainer within five years. The pay was not fantastic, but I loved my work. I loved the people I met and the excitement of the players. I had a few casual romances, but nothing that took my heart. I had not met a man who could make my passion for football second to my passion for him. At least that was what my last lover had said to me.
"You want a whole team, Jamie," he had said as he gathered his things from my closet. "One man will never be enough for you."
Maybe he was right, I had thought at the time. Most of my relationships had ended on a similar note. I was happiest being surrounded by strong, appreciative men. Once I narrowed it down to just one man in my life, that's when the bickering started.
"I love football too, babe, but can't we do something besides watch the games today?" was usually the first sign it was over.
Sure, I could get a man to laugh when I suggested naked football watching parties, but that only lasted awhile. Nudity and football are not a good mix. Somebody usually wants to watch the game while the other person wants to mess around. Get caught one time looking at the TV while you're giving a blow job and see what happens. Eventually, somebody loses their temper, and the next thing you know everybody is wearing way too much clothing. Party over.
My next job was at a decent sized NCAA school. This was in following with my plan. If I could make it five years here, I would have the experience needed to apply for a job in the NFL. I started doing more one on one training and taking some classes in sports psychology to prepare for the big league. I knew I would have to work extra hard to make it, and I wasn't in the mood for more dating fiascoes. I spent more nights alone than not. Some decent erotica and a battery operated toy could make me forget my loneliness for a while. Does anyone get much more than that from a real relationship? I never have.
Skip forward through five years of professional growth and education. I didn't feel any older than I had when I had joined this organization, but I felt prepared. When the letter came from Denver I was torn. I knew I was ready for the pros. But Denver? First and foremost, I'm a Steeler's fan. Also, I'm not into skiing. I've lived in the lowlands all my life; will I even be able to breathe there? I know I can't turn down the interview, though. Even if I don't get the job, I have to respond to the offer. It could be my ticket in. I've never been turned down for a job when I applied. I called the number on the letter and arranged my interviews.
The next thing I did was call my friend Tara and ask if she would be free to accompany me to Denver the following week. She is a professor of psychology and helped me with that part of my education. Most people would guess her to be in her early 20's because of her size and looks. Her just 5' height makes her look perpetually young. She has the only blue eyes I've ever seen that actually sparkle, too. Her looks cause her more trouble with men than one would imagine. Blond, blue-eyed, curvy-delicious, men think she's an easy mark. I can tell you, she isn't at all easy. She and I have shared a few nights of "friendly girl snuggles" as we call them. Sometimes, there's nothing more comforting than a soft pillowy breast. I understand how men find them so incredible, because I do, too. Tara's warm embrace and soft flesh have helped me get through a few lonely nights. If I could fall in love with a woman, she would be the one. But I love men. I just haven't found the right one yet.
Tara and I run through practice interview questions on the flight. It's full and the lady sitting in the aisle seat doesn't seem to be appreciating our chatter. Tara buys a set of headphones from the flight attendant and hands them to our row mate with a smile. She's lucky we have things to discuss, or we would probably be kissing and groping each other instead. There are no head phones you can buy to block that out. The Jesus fish on her lapel tells me she would be more than dismayed by that. I don't really want to bring down any bad karma, either. I'm finding myself wanting this job a little more with every practice question.
Denver is proud of their NFL team, as evidenced by the posters and signs along the walls of the terminal. I don't know if I could get used to all the blue and orange. I'm waiting for my bag at the carousel when I look up and see a poster of Tim Tebow. Of course I am familiar with him; the sweet young man who can summon miracles. He sure did get one over on my Steelers in the wildcard game. It's hard to be too mad, though, looking into those blue eyes of his. Tara catches me staring and pokes me in the ribs.
