That night, Beard slept on the couch — or maybe didn’t sleep at all, the way the shadows carved dark under his eyes the next day. He struck up a monologue, more words in a row than Ted had heard from him in all their years of friendship. Made breakfast and lunch and dinner; didn’t say a word about the team, or the string of ties, or their duty to the boys.
In the evening he opened the window wide and dragged a pair of kitchen chairs over to face it, settled in one and waited for Ted to haul himself over to the other. Night in London was glowing yellow and rushing with traffic, but the coool breeze eased something inside him all the same.
“Remember the Great American Twinetrip?” Ted asked. It’d been not long after Beard got out of prison, back when he was still living in his and Michelle’s guest room and skittish as a newborn deer. Come summer and with it the end of the coaching season, Ted had packed them both into his car and spent two and a half weeks driving them around the country to see every record-breaking ball of twine in the country. “We camped in that field out by…”
“Lake Nebagamon,” Beard supplied.
“Yeah.” They’d gotten lost on some deserted road, ended up sleeping there in some field getting eaten by mosquitos. “Remember the stars? Can’t see nothing like it out here.”
“Light pollution.”
They went quiet again. The curtains fluttered. In the field outside Lake Nebagamon, Ted had told him, just ‘cause you used to be a certain way don’t mean you’ll be that way forever. He’d closed his eyes when Ted stored the car keys for the night and Ted had torn a piece of paper from the back of his notebook and scrawled CAR KEYS HERE-> in neon pink highlighter and pressed Beard’s wallet back into his hands when he tried to hand it over as collateral Crunched there together in the folded-down back seat Beard had met Ted’s eyes in the dark and said—
I am absolutely livid about our loss to Sweden, mainly because a bunch of assholes are using this as an opportunity to harass the team, especially our beloved P.
i’ve seen a bunch of people saying that they lost because they were too focused on politics, and my only thought is, “where have you been??”
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rly wish male athletes would stop treating their wives and children as props for the sole benefit of their own well-being and sports career. like idk how to phrase this well but in that six nations show the sheer number of guys crediting their wives and kids for making them behave better/ have a more holistic view on life, “my children love me no matter how bad I play” like. smth abt banking on the unconditional love of children while you’re being an absent father bc of your job is crazy 😭😭😭