One loss was bad in college football. Two was a death sentence.

College football differed greatly from the NFL in that regard - your record was not the sole determining factor on if you did or did not make the playoffs. Instead, a committee of 13 people who operated under the assumption that they knew more than the average fan (newsflash: they typically don't) made up a list of criteria that determined the ranking of the 25 best college teams each week. Among that criteria, someone somewhere decided long ago that two losses was the line in the sand, and the point of no return for a team. They say each criteria piece is weighed equally when determining rankings, but we all knew better.

Me, Mara, and a few other media people had huddled in the back corner of the press conference room at the stadium after the game, waiting for Coach Riley and Reid and anyone else who had an obligation to speak. In a loss, most claimed they didn't.

When Reid walked in, it felt like all the air had been sucked into a vacuum, and the squeaking of the chair as he sat down, still in his pads and uniform, sounded almost deafening. When he reached up to pull at the collar of his jersey, I clocked the cherry red abrasions across his knuckles.

The floor was then opened for reporters to ask questions, but nobody wanted to hear from Coach Riley. They all wanted to hear how the star quarterback fucked up the game.

"Reid, can you kind of put into words the feeling of losing a game like that in that fashion?" the first reporter asked.

I wanted to roll my eyes into the back of my skull. Losing would never not suck, and I wasn't sure why anyone thought they'd ever get a different answer. But poking the bear was fun for some people, I guess.

"It sucks," Reid replied flatly, and admittedly calmer than I thought he would.

"On that last play of the final drive, clock was ticking down, you had receivers in the end zone, but it looked like you didn't really want to go there," the reporter continued.

Reid shifted in his chair, mulling over his words, and there was that vacuum silence again.

"Well, I didn't have great pocket movement, and couldn't really step into the throw, and..." he blew out a sigh as he pushed a few stray locks of sweaty hair off of his forehead. "I was just playing hero ball tonight. I tried to do it all myself and the whole team paid for it. That's not how we win games. So this loss, it's...it's on me. It was selfish and it won't happen again."

Reid stood up from the chair before anyone else could fire off any follow up questions, and stalked out the swinging back doors of the press conference room.

I took half a step before deciding not to follow him. I knew if I was in his position, I'd want time to decompress and cool off by myself, and he was more of a lone wolf than I'd ever be. Wandering into the den and getting bit wasn't going to help either of us.

━━━━━━

Updated rankings weren't released until the following Monday. Georgia, who had started the season ranked as the unanimous #1, had not changed, but Clemson at #3 had dropped to #5 - meaning if the playoffs were selected today, they would not make it.

The dismay was palpable. The team was one game into the season and they've already got one foot in the grave. The silence in the football complex was fittingly akin to a funeral.

The team was technically off, but a loss didn't mean content stopped, and I had to finish up my "Countdown to Gametime" video to post later today. The sky had begun to turn into a creamy, melted orange by the time I was done, and my stomach grumbled and begged for food. but my body stopped on its own in the lobby before I could make it to the doors.

I wasn't sure what compelled me to turn on my heel and make my way back to the film rooms. Maybe it was instinct, or maybe by now I just knew him in a way I never thought I would, and I could feel him nearby like I had Reid fucking Sonar.

Sure enough, he was front row in the film study room, with Saturday's game up on the screen. He had his headphones on, and I had every opportunity to walk out of that room without him noticing. But I couldn't help it. I cared. Maybe too much.

When I walked over and tapped his shoulder, he flinched and slid his headphones off around his neck. "Jesus Christ, Jo. You know when people wear headphones it means-"

"Means you don't wanna be bothered, yeah, yeah, I know." I waved him off and took the cushy, movie-theater style seat next to him. "I don't really care. I...I figured maybe you could use a little bothering."

Reid blew out a tight breath and shifted in his chair. "Not really."

I scoffed. "So you'd rather sit here and punish yourself?"

Reid paused the game tape and shifted in his chair again, tucking one of his legs underneath him so he could fully face me. I hated how differently I looked at him now, how hyper-fixated I was on every little detail of his face, like the faded silvery scar at the top corner of his lip and the way the tips of his ears would get red when we held each other's gaze too long.

"I know I don't need to explain to you the gravity of that loss," he said, his voice soft but firm.

"Well, if you're gonna lose to anybody, it ideally would be the best team." I shrugged, gesturing to the film screen. "And I know that you know the committee takes that into consideration."

"No, we're supposed to be the best team." His words were firmer now. "Do you know why we're not? Because of me."

I scoffed and held my hands up in defeat. "Now I'm really not following. Reid, you are literally the best player on that team."

"No I'm not. The best player on the team doesn't do this." He picked up the remote and pressed play, where in ultra-definition 4K, Reid hurdled that Georgia defender before getting the ball knocked loose by another player on the way down. Even though I'd seen it in real time, it still made me flinch when he hit the turf.

"Why did you do it, then?" I asked in a low voice. "Did you really not see JJ open at the top?"

He hesitated, looking down into the closed notebook on his lap. "I did, and...I didn't care. I needed to prove that I am still the guy that can do everything."

"Okay, but why? You have great teammates, and a great support system-"

"Because I don't know who I am without this!" Reid aggressively pushed himself out of the chair and paced at the front of the room, raking his hands through his hair. "Outside of football, everything about me is exceptionally average, and don't try and argue with me, because it's true. But when I got a taste of being something that might resemble perfection - even just a little bit - going back to being average feels like...I don't know. If I don't make the playoffs, win the Heisman, be a fucking human highlight reel, then...then what? If I don't do what everyone expects me to do, then what the fuck am I?"

I got up out of my chair and grabbed for his wrists, stopping him in place. "You're Reid fucking Donahue. A month ago, you told me you weren't even sure you wanted to be that guy anymore, and you know what? You shouldn't be. What makes you different from that guy that you were was your ability to learn from your mistakes and do better. So you're going to get the fuck up, dust yourself off, and do better, because I know you can. And for the record, Reid, nothing about you is average."

I paused when I realized I was still holding his wrists, his pulse frantically beating underneath my fingertips. I watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed, and I might have actually hallucinated the way he ran his tongue along his bottom lip. I let go of his wrists and took a step back before I did something we both regretted.

"You done?" he asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yeah, for now," I replied with a sigh. "Just...think about what I said."

When I went to turn on my heel, he reached out and grabbed my wrist. I turned back around to face him, and he was far closer than I realized. This time I definitely didn't hallucinate the way he ran his tongue along his lip, or the way his cheeks reddened the longer we looked at each other. His eyes were so warm I could have melted in them.

"Jo, I..." He paused and let go of my wrist. "I'm starving. Do you wanna go get something to eat?"

I let out a relieved sigh. "God yes, I thought you'd never ask."

He scooped up his backpack from the floor, and I followed him out of the film room. My insides were buzzing as if I was a hornet's nest that someone had carelessly kicked, and I had no idea how I was going to make it 12 more games of looking at each other the way we did without internally combusting.

━━━━━━

aw i missed my kids and the man with THE swoopiest hair (& i am weak for the little hair tuck). she was a bit of a shortie, but we needed some cool down time after that game. would love to know your thoughts/feelings as always !