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We plow over the Ravens in the divisional championship, giving us a week to prepare for the conference championship next weekend against the Bills.
If we come out victorious in that matchup, we’ll have a week off before we head to the big game—the one with all the marbles.
It’s the game I’ve never gotten to play, the one we all strive for every season.
My focus is exactly where it needs to be as I spend late nights and early mornings in the locker room rather than going home to face my dad and all the weird shit we’re going through as a family.
I hang out in our meeting rooms to watch projections of game footage on the big screens. Sometimes teammates join me, which just offers another perspective as we study together, take notes, and know what to watch for in the coming game.
I mostly communicate with Des via text message over the next week. She ducks out to San Diego to visit her friends, but she keeps me updated on the planning progress of the first 5K event for my new foundation, which is coming along nicely.
I give my agent a call on Thursday morning before practice.
“Asher Nash. Good to hear from you, man. You all set for the Bills?” Jake answers. He’s been with me for many years, and he also represents my brother, Spencer.
“As prepared as I can be,” I admit.
“What can I do for you? Must be important if you’re calling me this week.”
“It is.” I draw in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Word will get out soon enough anyway, but I’m going to be a dad.”
“Holy shit, man. Congratulations.”
“With that comes more responsibility, and with this being the last year of my contract, I’m worried. I haven’t heard any talk about next season, and in the meantime, I want as many sponsorship opportunities as you can find for me.”
“I get that, man. You know it’s been a tough road since the scandal,” he says apologetically. “But if you can get someone other than your brother on the coaching staff to speak on your behalf, I think you’d have a better chance at drumming up some opportunities. Maybe the OC?”
I clench my jaw. “Yeah, probably not the OC.”
“Why not?” he asks.
“The woman I got pregnant is his daughter.”
“Oh, Jesus, Asher,” he mutters. “What the fuck were you thinking?” Before I can answer, he says, “Doesn’t matter. Damage is done. Have you spoken with your publicist?”
“No. I figured I’d check in with you first.” To be honest, I wasn’t planning to call her yet. She and Desiree have become friendly, and I don’t know what sort of wrench this whole secret might throw into their friendship.
“Have her call me after you two talk, and we’ll get a plan together for you,” Jake says.
“Thanks, man.” I really hadn’t considered the potential consequences of knocking up a coach’s daughter immediately coming off a suspension and rebuilding my reputation in terms of how it could affect opportunities off the field. I only thought about how it would affect meonthe field.
Now I’m concerned my plan for packing away extra finances might not work out the way I was hoping.
And it’s not just that.
Another insecurity plows straight into me.
If I can’t handle the finances, how am I going to handle being a father? A partner? Maybe even a husband?
It feels like my past mistakes are continuing to haunt me as they put pressure on the present. I might not be able to get the types of big-money deals that would provide a secure future for my family because I was an idiot nearly two years ago.
Truth be told, I’m getting anxious. I have some money in the bank, but I haven’t been smart about it. I haven’t invested or saved much, and I lost a lot when I was suspended—including all my sponsorships, which is where a lot of players make big money.
And I just took what I did have sitting in the bank and sunk it into the house.
I don’t have any sort of savings for my kid’s future, and I don’t plan to rely on someone else’s family money to pay the way. That’s not me.
It is, however, my father.
