He looked at his notes. Played 1994-2004 for the Detroit Lions. Only player to rush for over 1,000 yards in every season of his NFL career. Broke 2,000 yards in 1990. MVP the same year. Nine-time Pro Bowl selection. There was no point: he’d already had them memorized before he’d even written them down. There was only one item that he had to make it a point to memorize, one that he had been chanting on the twenty-minute drive from campus down Highway 6 West. Don’t ask about the Super Bowl. Cameron looked up and took a deep breath. “OK,” he said to himself, opened the door of his car and stepped onto the gravel driveway leading up to Darryl Carter’s mansion.
He was immediately hit by a wave of Mississippi’s late August heat, and for a split second regretted taking this assignment. The feeling soon faded and was replaced by nerves. He took a look at himself in his car’s windows to see if he was presentable. The humidity had yet to make his curly brown hair look ridiculous, and his Ole Miss polo and khaki slacks, ironed that morning, were unwrinkled. Under a cloudless sky, he reached the brick front porch and knocked on the large double doors leading to the front of the house.
He stood on the brick porch for a full minute, shuffling with the journal in his hand and clicking his ballpoint pen, considering knocking again when one of the doors was opened by Darryl Carter himself. He wasn’t as tall as Cameron had imagined, maybe a few inches taller than his own average height. But even with the graying beard and the unmistakable beginnings of a gut over his black track pants, this was the man whose poster had graced the wall of Cameron’s childhood home since he was a kid. “who are you?” Darryl asked.
“Hi, Mr. Carter. I’m Cameron Anderson from the university paper.”
“Thought you were supposed to be a girl.”
“Shelby had a family emergency come up, so I’m doing the interview instead. Sorry, I thought the editor would have e-mailed you.”
“I don’t check it that much.” Darryl appraised Cameron for a moment and gave an approving nod. “OK,” he said, “come on in.” He stood aside as Cameron passed into the vestibule. Cameron took a look around, nothing the marble staircase, columns and crystal chandelier overhead.
“Nice place,” he said.
“Huh? Oh, yeah, I guess. Thanks,” Darryl said. “I didn’t really pick any of this stuff out, just kind of went with what the guy said.”
“The guy?”
“Interior decorator,” Darryl said, scratching at his arm. “Nate recommended him.”
“Nate Delarouse?” Cameron asked again. Darryl nodded.
Before he could stop himself, Cameron had a huge grin and began to talk so fast that it took a conscious effort not to trip over his words. “You know everyone leaves him off their greatest of all time lists, but I think he’s the best quarterback in the history of the Lions franchise. I mean, the guy could throw bombs that hit receivers square in their hands. Everyone talks about the fumble, but if the ref hadn’t made that idiotic offensive pass interference call in the third quarter…”
“Son,” Darryl said. He had a finger raised, and he leaned towards Cameron like a parent telling a kid to stop asking for a toy. “Your editor talked to you before you came here?” Cameron’s mouth instantly dried up, and he nodded, opting to shift his eyes towards the coat hanger next to the entrance doors, rather than look Darryl in the eyes. “And he told you what to ask?”
Cameron cleared his throat this time. “Yes,” he said.
“And he told you what not to ask?” Cameron couldn’t imagine how he’d thought Darryl wasn’t that tall. In the past few moments, he’d started to tower over him; and Cameron started to remember footage of the power back pushing off safeties like they were ragdolls.
“Hey, Dad,” a voice said from the central hallway. Cameron looked over to see a boy wearing blue swim trunks with white flowers, with a beach towel bearing the Lions logo draped over his head. He looked to be about ten, but he was tall for his age. “Mom wants to know where you put the sun block.”
“Check the medicine cabinet,” Darryl said.
“I already did,” the boy said.
About John Hendren
