[February 1992]

Tami's mother came down the week Eric was at the Combine to babysit Julie and keep Tami company during the nerve-wracking time. Unfortunately, Mom had a way of making things even more nerve-wracking.

"Did he study for that Wonder-kick test?" Mom asked her one evening while Tami was trying to study. Julie was down for the night, and Tami was sitting on the living room floor, legs stretched out under the coffee table, a textbook open before her.

"It's Wonderlic, Mom, and yes."

"Oh, I thought it was kick. Because they kick the ball." Her mother was settled in the arm chair.

"Most of them don't ever kick the ball."

"What's he doing in that camp all week? An entire week he leaves you alone with the baby?"

"Mom, they run him through all sorts of tests of strength and stamina."

"Well, all I'm saying is that your father never did that. He never left town for an entire week."

"I bet he would have if it meant a potential opportunity to make $250,000 a year." And besides, her mother had just left Pastor John for an entire week.

"What? Is that what Eric will be making if he gets in the NFL? As a rookie?"

"Probably. Maybe a little bit more."

"As a rookie?"

"Yes, Mom," Tami repeated in annoyance.

"Those salaries sure have gone up. That boy I dated in high school didn't make nearly as much as that when he got drafted."

"You dated a professional football player?"

"Well, he wasn't one when I dated him. I broke up with him for your father. He was drafted by the AFL two years later. If I had known that was going to happen…."

"You'd have been mercenary and stuck with him?" Tami asked.

"Well, who knows what I would have done back then. I was such a silly girl. I was so much like Shelley is now."

"Really?" Tami asked. In appearance and temperament, Tami had always taken after her father, while Shelley looked far more like her mother, but Tami had never considered Mom and Shelley's personalities to be at all similar. "What happened?"

"Your father. I fell in love with the man, and he had his head on his shoulders, and he told me if I didn't get my head on my shoulders, we couldn't be together. So I set some goals, we got married, and I went to community college for a semester…" She sighed. "But then I got pregnant, and he got that job, and we had to move, and I dropped out, and I never did accomplish much after all. So I guess I can't lecture Shelley."

"You raised two daughters for years on next to nothing all by yourself. Neither of those daughters ended up in jail or on a stripper's pole. I'd say you accomplished something, Mom."

"Neither has ended up in jail or on the stripper's pole yet," Mom said.

"Well I was thinking of applying down at the topless bar next Tuesday."

"Don't be sarcastic with me, Tami. You know I was talking about Shelley. I don't know about this aerobics class of hers she's teaching in Austin. I think a lot of young men take that class just to watch her bounce around."

"I doubt any men take that class, Mom. Aerobics is a very popular exercise with women."

"And now she's running around with that Spaniard." Shelley's Javier had arrived in the U.S. three days ago. "Who's twice her age."

"He's 27. Twice her age would be 38." Tami wasn't sure why she was defending her sister, except that her mother was annoying her. She did not like the idea of her baby sister running around with a man who was five years older than Eric, and she had told her sister so point blank.

"And I think he's staying with her in her apartment while he's in the U.S. John says there's nothing we can do but be there when this mistake blows up in her face and help her pick up the pieces, but I think we should do something."

Tami had felt they should do something, too, but, the truth was, she didn't know what they could do. You couldn't lock Shelley up. She was 19. When she'd tried talking sense into Shelley, the two had only ended up fighting, with Shelley crying, and then Tami crying. "Maybe Pastor John is right. Maybe that is all you can do."

Mom sighed. "I think it's all John can do. Your father would have invited that Spaniard over for dinner. And when he came in, your father would have been cleaning his shotgun on the dining room table. And he would have motioned to the chair across from him, and he would have laid down the law."

"Maybe," Tami said. "But Dad's gone. Love the one you're with."

"I do," Mom said. "I love John. But not the way I loved your father." Her lower lip trembled a little. "Excuse me," she said. She pretended to cough.

"I still miss him too, Mom," Tami said quietly. "I bet I'll be forty one day, and something will remind me of him, and I'll just start crying." She stood up from the coffee table and came and hugged her crying mother.

[*]

Tami's mother left six hours before Eric returned. When he walked into the apartment after completing evaluation week, he picked Tami up in a bear hug, twirled her around, and set her, laughing, back on her feet.

"I missed you," he said, and kissed her warmly, while Julie tugged on his pants leg and said, "Julie turn!"

Eric picked up his daughter and twirled her as well. When he set her down, she giggled and stumbled off to the wooden doll Aunt Shelley had given her, which she had left in the corner of the living room.

"So how do you feel you did?" Tami asked. "On all those tests of strength and stamina?"

"I did about as well as I expected to do. Better on some tests than on others. I wasn't at the top of the pack by a long shot, but I did my best."

She looked at him coyly. "Well, as soon as Julie's in bed, I want to give you my own test of stamina."

Eric's responsive grin was tired, sloppy, and downright adorable.

Later that night, as they lay cuddled and exhausted in bed, he said, "The NFL should see that stamina."

"Yeah?" she joked. "And then are you going to review the tape later and see how you can improve your performance?"

"We should do that. We should make a tape. I bet I could learn a lot. Stumpy has a camcorder I could borrow."

"No way in hell, Eric."

He laughed.

[March 1992]

As Tami drove to the warehouse club they'd joined to stretch their food dollar, she scanned through radio stations looking for some good music. She paused on sports radio when she heard two local commentators discussing the upcoming NFL draft.

The Bengals may be considering adding another quarterback to the roster. Word is they've got their eye on one of Waco's own, Eric Taylor of the Baylor Bears.

"Oooh! They're talking about Daddy!" Tami glanced at Julie in the rearview mirror.

Julie turned to the sound of her mother's voice. "Daddy! Daddy twow ball," she said before gazing out the window again.

"Not that Waco really owns your Daddy. We've lived here less than four years."

They call him the tortoise, the commentator continued.

Tami was not aware they called him the tortoise, whoever they were. She couldn't wait to make fun of Eric for it.

Why do they call him that, Bob? another commentator asked.

"Twee!" Julie said as she pointed out the window. "Car! Car goes Vwoom!"

Because while his performance has not been as spectacular as many of the other quarterbacks in the mix, he has shown slow but steady improvement throughout his college career. He's not going to be picked up by a team that really needs a quarterback this season, but he might be picked up by a team like the Bengals. They can treat him as an emergency backup for a couple of seasons while training him up. He's shown the ability to learn, and when one of these NFL coaches gets ahold of him -

- How did he do at the Scouting Combine in February, Bob?

Well, there were 34 other quarterbacks at this camp. That's a record number. There are almost too many good quarterbacks to choose from this season, and that's not even counting the free agents whose contracts are up.

So how did Taylor do?

Rumor has it that his vertical jump and broad jump were near the bottom of the heap.

Tami frowned.

And his 40-yard dash and bench press were just average. But he's said to have done very well on the position-specific drills and the shuttles. He passed the drug screen, the Cybex test, and he doesn't seem to be injury prone.

How'd he do on the Wonderlic?

Well, those scores are private and not released to the press, as you know.

They sometimes get leaked, though, don't they?

Yes. Now, we don't know Eric Taylor's score, but given his academic performance in high school and college, there's no reason to believe he didn't score at least a 23. That's the minimum most teams want to see in a quarterback.

You say given his academic performance, Bob, but we all know those grades can be inflated for players.

Yes, but Taylor is a double major, in history and phys ed, and he's completing his degree in four years while working part-time and raising a daughter. It's likely he has an above average intellect.

But teams don't necessarily want to see too high a score either, do they Bob?

Well, a lot of managers get nervous when a player scores above, say, a 40. They're afraid he'll be a know-it-all who second guesses the coach's plays.

"Daddy got 38," Tami said. "Good thing he's not too smart, huh?"

"Daddy!" Julie exclaimed. "Daddy loves Julie!"

So, you're predicting a late round pick for Eric Taylor, then? By the Bangles?

I am indeed. I see him getting snatched up in the 11th or 12th round.

"Want to move to Ohio?" Tami asked Julie, smiling at her in the rearview mirror. "It might be nice to have summers that aren't 104 degrees."

Julie pointed out the window. "Cow. Cow goes Moooooooo!"

Tami had never been beyond Texas, except for two childhood family trips to see her grandparents in New Mexico, before they died, and that one bowl game in Arizona. Eric had at least seen several other states for his away games. She thought it would be interesting to live in a big city in the Midwest. Cincinnati was bound to be more interesting than Tyler or Waco. And she'd heard that Midwesterners were almost as friendly as Texans. Ohio wasn't like the East Coast, where, she'd always heard, people were busy and rude. She'd never want to live in some place like New York or Philadelphia.

Eric had never had any respect for the Bengals. They'd lost thirteen of their sixteen games last season, but Tami supposed they wrote their player's paychecks just the same. And there was always the possibility of being traded up to a better team.

When Tami got home with a hoard of cheap food for the month, Eric had just gotten home from his run. He was still sweating. He helped her bring up the groceries.

"I was listening to sports radio on the way," Tami said as she unloaded groceries and crammed them into the two cabinets they had turned into a pantry.

"Yeah," he said, still breathing a little heavily from his run, but she could hear the excitement in his voice, "I heard that too, on my Walkman. What do you think of living in Cincinnati?"

"I think it would be fun to do for two or three years."

"Until I can get on a better team, you mean?"

"Eric, it's the NFL!"

He grinned wildly. "I think this is happening," he said. "I think this is really going to happen."

She kissed him. He tasted salty from sweat. "Now why don't you be a good little tortoise and make your slow and steady way to the shower?"

"I'm never going to live that name down, am I?"

She smiled and shook her head.

"I don't even know where they got that from. No one calls me that."

"That you know of," she said with a smirk.

The next day, Eric bought Julie a little Bengals jersey, and when he put it on her, she said, "Tiger. Tiger goes RRRRR!"