A request
"I think she handles it just fine. She's used to it, Trav. She's said so herself, right? It was right there in print...she lets that kind of shit roll off her back. You guys both know it's a bunch of bs."
As much as he's on point (Tay laughs a lot of things off, especially at this point in her life. She picks and chooses her battles), I know for a fact that the underlying factor is what she said since day one, that little nagging worry that her being at the games would cause some kind of distraction from the game.
Reassurance only goes so far. We've had more than a couple of conversations about it and I've made clear I want her there, I'm fucking proud that she's there and her support means everything.
It's good to get Jason's perspective, even if it's only over the phone. We give each other shit all the time, but I respect his advice and he respects mine.
"Thing is, yeah, she's used to it and for the most part, she can tune it out. I dunno, man, it's hard for me to do the same. The fucking Chads and Brads are one thing...I don't give two shits and neither does Tay. Skip Bayless, though? Nah, that burns me. I can't help it."
My natural instinct is to protect her and I know Jason gets that, being a husband, being a father. I also know I can be a hot head about certain things, no reason to lie.
Taylor's at the house, chilling, and I'm sitting in the car at practice, in the lot, just talking to Jay, venting. It's something we've gotta discuss and we will, but it's one of those things we've just been tip toeing around. The loss was tough and seeing replays of me fucking losing my cool didn't make me feel that much better. Luckily, though, we had a great Christmas, surrounded by friends who are family and Tay's entire family, too, so I was able to decompress a whole bunch.
She's the absolute best person to have around when shit goes down because she'll immediately cheer you up. I can't even count the number of times where she'll make these amazing oatmeal chocolate chip cookies or sit and watch the dumbest movies with me just because she knows I'm not myself. Christmas was no exception; she did everything possible to make sure, even though the game was absolute garbage, the evening was amazing. How could I burden her with the stupid shit people were saying? Especially since my brother's right---everyone who's important to us knows what they're saying is fucking absurd. Taylor included.
"Look, Trav, you're used to people talking shit. I'm used to it, hell, Ky's used to it and Taylor, too. This isn't the first time someone's brought her up as being a distraction. You guys turned the other cheek the last time. You can do it again."
He's very logical, the brother of mine, almost too logical. "Yeah, you're right. You're right. I think I'm just still hung up on the game."
"Because you know the team wasn't playing at the level you're used to and people wanna pin the blame on the easiest target and unfortunately, Taylor's visible. It comes with it. That being said," Jason takes a pause, "I know where you're coming from. I'd honestly be pissed."
"She tries not to read any of that shit," I shake my head, tapping my fingers against the steering wheel. "Hard not to see it, though. It's everywhere."
"You need to talk to her. See what she thinks about it."
Avoiding the subject anymore than we already have probably isn't the best course of action and I sigh.
"That's the plan. We gotta do what we gotta do."
"You want my advice?"
"Are you gonna give it to me anyway?"
"Yup."
"Go ahead then," I crack a smile. "Give me what you got."
"Ignore the stupid shit and focus on what's important which is your relationship and upping your game. You got this. All of it."
