[Sunday, April 26, 1992]

"Damn," Stumpy muttered. It was day one of the draft, and Eric and Tami were watching ESPN at Gretchen's apartment. Tomorrow, on day two, when Eric expected to be picked, they would be with family. "Another quarterback?" He glanced at Eric sympathetically.

Tami thought Eric looked a little pale. "Is that a problem?" she asked.

"It's just more than usual," Eric said quietly.

"Especially considering how many quarterbacks these teams already have," said Stumpy, shaking his head.

"But the Bengals haven't picked a quarterback," Eric reassured her. "As long as they don't…I've still got a chance. They're the ones who seem to want me."

Julie put a hand on Stumpy's knee and patted it. "Unca Stumpeeeee! Unca Stumpeee! Poneee!"

Stumpy scooped her up as the TV faded to commercial. He took her hands and bounced her up and down on his knees. "Ride little pony, ride to town!" he chanted. "Careful little pony, don't…fall….." He looked at Julie and grinned. She giggled. He held onto her hands but opened his legs so she fell through. "…..Dooooown!" Julie laughed hysterically as he jerked her back up before she could slide all the way to the floor and then closed his knees and started bouncing her again.

"Giovanni!" Gretchen scolded him. "Careful you don't give her a concussion on that coffee table."

"She's nowhere near the coffee table, Worry Wart."

"This is so nerve wracking," Tami muttered.

"See, I told you," Gretchen said to Stumpy.

"No, I mean watching this draft," Tami told her. She glanced at her bouncing daughter, who was smiling at Stumpy. "Julie's fine. But….do you have any wine?"

When Gretchen returned from the kitchen and handed Tami a glass of red wine, Stumpy and Eric were both whooping.

"What just happened?" Gretchen asked.

"Frankie," Stumpy told her. "Cornerback. The Atlanta Falcons just plucked him up. You met him, at that thing."

Gretchen shook her head.

Tami was on her second glass of wine when Eric and Stumpy were whooping again. A Baylor defensive end had been drafted by the Tampa Bay Buccaneers. Not much later, the Cleveland Browns picked up one of the Bears' defensive tackles.

"Wow," Gretchen said. "Y'all did have a good season, huh?"

"Yeah," Stumpy said. "Over the last three years, we've never seen more than two Bears drafted in a season."

Eric had grown quiet.

[Monday, April 27, 1992]

On the second day of the draft, Eric and Tami went to their Monday morning classes but skipped work to drive to the Taylor home in Dallas. They all ate dinner together, and when Tami went to put Julie's unfinished sippy cup in the fridge, she saw that Mr. Taylor was chilling champagne.

The family moved to the living room, where Mr. Taylor turned on ESPN. To prevent Julie from wandering off, pressure gates were put up at the halls leading to the bedrooms and to the foyer. A seven-month-old Andrew sat in his pack 'n play and gurgled as a twenty-one-month-old Julie stood outside of it and dangled toys at him.

The announcement of every pick was a moment of tension, Mr. Taylor leaning forward in the arm chair and Eric firmly gripping the beer bottle he was slowly sipping. Each time Tami hoped Eric's name would be called, even when there was no reason to hope it.

Each round, when the Bengals came up, the room grew especially quiet, except for the coos and squeals of Andrew and the running monologue of Julie as she chattered down to him in his play pen.

Pick after pick passed. Andrew was in and out of the pack n' play, on his father's lap, on his brother's lap, in his mother's lap, on the floor, and back again. A Baylor wide receiver was snatched up by the Miami Dolphins. That made four Bears, now, Tami thought. Four already.

Julie fell asleep for fifteen minutes spread out across Eric and Tami's laps. Then she woke, climbed down, and went over to the pack n' play to look at Andrew, who had just arisen from his own longer nap.

The twelfth and final round was upon them, and the room grew tensely silent when the Bengals came up for their last pick of the draft. Even Julie seemed to recognize the enormity of the moment, and she followed everyone's gaze to the television screen.

"Your daddy is about to get drafted to the NFL," Mr. Taylor explained to her.

"Daddy play foootball?" Julie asked.

"Yep," Mr. Taylor answered, "professionally."

"Yep. Daddy twows ball. Yep. Yep. Yep."

"He sure does," Mr. Taylor told her with an affectionate smile. "He's going to throw it for the Bengals soon."

"Tiger!" Julie said. "Tiger goes Rrrrrr!"

"Shhhh!" Mr. Taylor told her. "Listen for Daddy's name."

Tami was tingling with excitement as the Bengals put a name in.

Well, John, said one of the ESPN announcers, we know the Bengals have been talking about possibly adding another back-up quarterback to the mix, and they've been closely watching Eric Taylor of the Baylor Bears as an up-and-coming talent who could potentially be trained.

Tami clapped happily while Julie turned to the TV and shouted, "Daddy! Tooch - down!"

"Shhh!" Mr. Taylor said. "Listen now. Daddy's about to get drafted."

It was originally predicted Taylor would be picked sometime after the tenth round.

"Was predicted?" Mr. Taylor asked. "What the hell does he mean, was predicted?"

But now the Bengals no doubt find another quarterback to be unnecessary.

"What?" Mr. Taylor shouted. "Why?

Eric was gripping his empty beer bottle tightly.

Why do you say that, Paul? the other commentator asked.

Well, John, as you know it's possible to use a running back as an emergency third quarterback if it should come to that. And if you noticed, the Bengals picked just the man for that in round 10. In fact, because of his dual-threat ability, Miles actually had the opportunity to play quarterback multiple times in his high school and college career.

Tami looked anxiously at Eric. She didn't quite understand what they were saying. Eric's teeth were tightly ground together as he fixed his eyes on the TV.

What the Bengals do still need, however, especially after they got Washington scooped out from under them in the eleventh round, is to shore up their defense. We all know what a terrible defense they have.

Well, John, it looks like they've decided.

Tami gripped Eric's free hand, the one that wasn't holding his empty beer bottle.

And who are they going with?

Well… the commentator said, this is very interesting. This individual wasn't even invited to attend the Scouting Combine.

Tami felt the muscle spasm course through Eric's fingers.

He was injured toward the end of last season, sat out the last couple of games, and maybe the scouts temporarily forgot about him.

Eric's hand slipped from hers.

He has, however, fully healed, and up until that point, he had a fairly solid reputation for sacking quarterbacks.

A wave of disappointment swept over Tami, followed by another wave of fear for the pain Eric must be experiencing in the wake of this announcement.

It's a defensive end, the commentator continued, an Aggie, from Texas A&M, Morris – Mo - McArnold.

"Goddamnit!" Eric stood and threw his empty beer bottle at the wall just above the TV. It shattered into shards of brown glass and rained down on the entertainment center.

Tami froze in horror.

Karen gasped.

Julie burst out crying, and when Andrew heard his niece wailing, he too began to cry.

Mr. Taylor shot up out of the arm chair. "Son! Control your temper!"

"I'm so sorry, Karen," Eric said. "I'm so sorry, ma'am. I'll clean it up. Right now, I'll – "

"- I'll get it," Karen told him, scooping up her wailing son from the playpen. "Don't worry. I'll get the vacuum and I'll get it later." She left with the baby, opening the gate to walk down the hallway toward the bedrooms.

Tami was torn between comforting Julie and comforting Eric. She plucked up Julie and set her on one hip, making a shushing sound, and then tried to wrap her other arm around Eric, but he stepped away. "That's it," he said. "Twelfth round. Last pick. That's it."

Julie buried her face against her mother's shoulder.

"It's not over," Mr. Taylor reassured him. "You could still get picked up as an undrafted free agent. Hell, son, think of it this way. Now you're free to negotiate with any team."

"You're delusional, Dad!"

Mr. Taylor's jaw clenched. Tami knew that expression – it was a mirror of Eric's own when he was trying to suppress his anger. Two words escaped through Mr. Taylor's teeth: "Excuse me?"

"You and I both know that isn't going to happen," Eric said. "Not for me. The rosters were already bloated going into the draft, and then too many quarterbacks were picked on day one. The only reason I still thought I had a chance after that was because I thought the Bengals specifically wanted me, but they've decided they don't need another QB. Years of training. Years! And it's over. It's all over. And I have nothing to show for it."

Tami stepped toward him. "Eric, sugar – "

"- Nothing!" he shouted. "I failed!"

Tami reached for him, but Eric pulled free. He violently opened the gate that was blocking off the hallway that led to the foyer and headed for the front door.

Tami set Julie down in the armchair and handed the girl one of her stuffed monkeys. "Where are you going?" she asked in fear as she followed Eric.

"For a walk," he said, and opened and slammed the front door before she could reach him.

Tami had her hand on the knob when Mr. Taylor put a hand on her shoulder. "Don't," he said. "Leave him be."

"He needs me," she said.

"No. He needs to be alone."

Tami shook her head and began to turn the knob.

"Tami! Listen to me. He's angry. You saw how angry he was. You go to him now…he might say things he regrets. Things he can't take back. Leave him be. He'll come back. When he cools off, he'll come back, and that's when he'll need you."

Tami swallowed. She wanted so badly to follow Eric, to sweep him into her arms, to tell him she loved him, that she didn't care, that his four years weren't a waste, that he was going to do great things. But instead she returned to the living room and lifted Julie into a great big bear hug. The girl's face was still streaked from her earlier tears. "Daddy?" she asked. "Daddy twow bot-tel?"

"Daddy threw a bottle, yes. He didn't mean to. Daddy is upset he wasn't drafted."

"Tiger?"

"No," Tami said. "No tiger."