Spoilers: S2, Ep. 01 (very minor spoilers for one small clip—if you haven't seen the episode, it's not going to ruin the overall episode for you)
Disclaimer:I own the idea, everything else belongs to NBC
Möbius Brothers
When Billy gets the call, he's only a little surprised. There's only been one State Championship in Dillon since Billy got his own ring back in '98. It's tradition to call on upstanding members of the earlier championship teams to present the rings, but Billy Riggins has never been an upstanding guy. Instead, he was in the stands like any other fan at the last presentation of rings—when Buddy and Mitch Street and Greg Rawling presented rings to the 2002 State Champs.
But this year it's his little brother who's getting a ring on his finger and on a Monday morning when everyone else is at work while Billy tries to sleep off a hangover, the phone rings.
Friday night, first game. Wear a shirt—with buttons.
That's Buddy Garrity for you, straight to the point—like Billy's been waiting his whole life for the call and should be grateful to be asked.
And he is grateful. He's been watching Tim piss his summer away on cheap beer and cheaper girls; wondering how long Tim's 17-year-old body can withstand the abuse. Jason's been coming around more often, but it's not enough to keep Tim on the straight and narrow. Who does Billy expect him to turn out like? His father? Mother? Him?
Tim hasn't exactly been given the greatest role models in life.
The phone call has ruined any chances of sleep so Billy climbs out of bed. He scrubs his three-day old stubble and stares at his reflection in the mirror. Presenting the ring to Tim feels like a something a role model would do. Tim's making the transition from boy to man, whether he realizes it or not. The names of the great footballers of Dillon are preached to children like the Bible. There's a few names mentioned who don't have rings on their fingers—Jason would have been one even if he'd never coached the championship team. But Tim needs the ring to be remembered. He needs it to rise above the stigma of being a Riggins.
Billy's got a ring, but even that has never been enough for them to remember him. Tim is different, though. Tim once said he was twice the player Billy ever was. That's not true. It's more like three or four times. Billy made some plays in his day, tried to hit hard, but he was too small to have any great effect and couldn't run as fast as a couple of other guys. Mostly he just followed orders and rode the wave of popularity the jersey brought him. He was really only in it for the beer and girls anyway.
He shakes his head and climbs in the shower to clear the cobwebs from his brain. Tim's going to burn through his talent before the season gets into high gear if he's not careful. But what's Billy supposed to do about it? Tell him to be careful? Hide his beer?
Maybe the answer will come in a day or two, when he isn't so hung over that he doesn't know how he's going to make it into work, let alone actually be productive.
On Friday night, Tim seems anxious about something. Billy's nursing a beer on the couch, waiting for Tim to leave before he gets ready and follows in his own truck. He's not sure if presenting the ring to Tim is supposed to be a surprise, but Tim hasn't mentioned it, so Billy's keeping his mouth shut. Truth be told, he can barely remember the conversation with Buddy except that it happened, and the ceremony is tonight.
Tim should have been gone already; down at the school early, soaking up the anticipation of another winning season. If he doesn't leave soon, Billy's not going to have time to shower. He's pretty sure Buddy intended for him to shower before showing up.
"Better get a move on, little bro," Billy finally says, tipping his beer to his mouth again.
"Yeah," Tim replies, burying his head in the fridge.
Billy gets up and walks over to the kitchen, placing his empty bottle on the counter. "They still doing that ceremony thing tonight? Giving Buddy Garrity and the rest of them another moment of glory on the field?"
"Yeah," Tim responds again, coming up empty from the fridge but still looking around as if he needs something.
Billy's soaking up his anxiety now. Tim needs to leave soon or his cover is blown.
"Well get on down there. You don't need Coach railing on you for being late, too."
Tim grimaces. Billy can tell he's got little respect for the new head coach, but that's Tim's problem. If he wants to play, he's got to put his resentment over Taylor leaving aside.
"Yeah, uh…listen." Tim scratches his neck absently, his eyes flitting anywhere but on Billy's face. "Are you comin' tonight?"
"To the game?" Billy is incredulous. He moves past Tim to grab a bag of chips that'll have to pass for dinner. "Have I missed one yet?"
"No, I mean, yeah, the game. But before…"
Billy fills his mouth with chips so he doesn't have to speak. Tim looks about as uncomfortable as a country hick in a big city. The tips of his ears are turning red and his cheeks are flushed. Is he…embarrassed?
Tim sighs; the breath puffing his cheeks out like a hamster.
"They told us we could pick someone, you know, someone who already got a ring."
Billy swallows roughly. He gets it. Tim knows already and he doesn't want Billy there. Maybe he wants Mitch Street to hand him his ring. Mitch always brought him and Jay home from practice. Or Coach Taylor—he's been more of a role model to Tim than anyone in his family ever was.
Billy forces a laugh. "I heard there was a waiting list for guys wanting to hand out a ring. Couple of years long, someone said. Guess we've had a bit of a dry spell lately waiting to win State."
There's a knot in his stomach fueled by embarrassment. Tim has no reason to be ashamed of his name. It's Tim's family that should be ashamed—they never did one thing to make Riggins a name of respect in Dillon. And Tim's just a kid, whether he drinks like an adult or not. He can't be expected to right the wrongs of two generations. How can Billy expect Tim to stand up there tonight and be proud of his big brother?
There's a beer in the fridge that Billy swore he wouldn't drink until after the game but he reaches for it now. The sharp hiss as it opens punctuates the silence between the brothers. Billy thumbs the rim, waiting for Tim to leave so he can down it in one mouthful.
"Well, don't worry about me raining on your parade," Billy spits out. He's angry, more at himself than Tim, but he can't hide it. "I'll probably be late anyway; miss the opening kick-off. I'll see your ring sometime. It looks just like mine, right?"
He moves to walk past Tim, surprised when Tim's strong arm grabs his bicep.
"Billy, wait."
Billy shrugs clear but doesn't move. Damn it if he's going to cry in front of Tim but sometimes being the only one Tim's got, and never, ever being good enough, cuts him right to the bone.
"Could you just…I mean, I don't want…" Tim's words are scrambled, bouncing around Billy's brain like stray bullets.
Billy's voice is bitter as he turns his head. "Isn't there some old fart looking to walk on the field one more time?"
A shadow passes over Tim's eyes and the room grows too quiet. Suddenly Billy's breath catches in his throat. Tim didn't know about the phone call. He's standing here asking his older brother to be the name they call out with his tonight; to be the man who walks the lonely road from childhood to adulthood with him.
"Shit, Tim," Billy says quietly. He lays his beer on the counter and grabs Tim's arm, turning Tim to face him. "Buddy called me a few days ago. I thought it was a surprise or something."
Tim looks confused. "Coach told me to ask someone. I thought no one wanted to do it."
The tears Billy doesn't want to fall prick the back of his eyes. God damn it anyway, he's always had a soft spot for this kid.
"You listen to me, little bother. There's no one else in Dillon I would walk out on that field for. And there's a line of men a mile long who would pay for the chance to give a ring to #33. You got that?"
Tim nods, silent.
"Now I think there was something about taking a shower and wearing a clean shirt in that call from Buddy, but we're going to be late." Billy grabs a rumpled shirt from the pile of laundry on the couch. It says Champions—fitting. He pulls it on and pushes Tim towards the door with a gentle shove.
He's closing the door behind him when he remembers something and runs back inside. He wore his State Champions '98 hat until it was frayed and faded, but when they got home from Dallas last year, there was a brand new 2006 version sitting on his bed. Billy never said anything to Tim about it, just tucked it away as a keepsake of his brother's success.
He grabs it now, curling the bib in his hands to make it fit right. It's been a long time since Billy Riggins was a Panther, but tonight he's a proud member.
/fin/