A SPIRITUAL RETREAT TO JAGUARS STADIUM, PART THREE
Once Cody has his fill of hydration and protein, he emerges from the oasis, naked as the day he’d came into being.
“Can I have some clothes?” he asks the first down marker.
The marker shakes, declining. They are only a hindrance to you, it communicated.
Cody grumbles, and shivers, and cups his junk with his hands self-consciously.
“No need to hide yourself here, son,” says a new voice that makes Cody shriek.
Cody looks around wildly. There is only the oasis, and the marker, and the empty stadium. He knew the marker’s voice from inside his head. This isn’t it. Obviously. “YOUR PRESENCE SUGGESTS OTHERWISE, GHOST,” he replied, shaking.
“Oh, I’m no ghost,” continues the voice. “I’m very much alive. I’m Tom Coughlin of the Jacksonville Jaguars organization. You might know me from coaching the New York Giants to two Super Bowl wins -”
“Over the Patriots,” Cody finishes in awe. “You’re - you’re a slayer of kings.” He goes to his knees, bowing his head.
“Just doing my job, kid.” Tom Coughlin’s voice coughs in a charmingly humble way. “Now, I’m not physically in the stadium right now, and I’m sure that’s confusing to you, but it’s simple to me. I’m always here for the boys whenever they need me. And not just here. I’m still with Eli Manning, for one. Especially with him. Boy, he could use me.” Cody could swear Tom Coughlin’s voice chokes up with emotion at this. “And I’m here for you, too, now. You wore our colors with pride in the Tokyo Dome. Why else would we have sent Jackson to you personally? You’re one of us.”
Cody may have been crying. He may also have been peeing. He can’t feel his extremities very well. “I’m so honored to be, sir.”
Tom Coughlin’s voice chuckles. “They said you didn’t know humility. I knew you had it in you.” Cody blushes. Did he? When was the last time he was aware of it? Dimly, he recalls painting his face, zipping up a bodysuit, and wishing he could literally fly away anywhere else. “Oh, son, not like that,” the voice sighs. “It’s not the same as being brought that low.”
“It’s... it’s not?” Cody can make, somehow, even less sense of everything. It was all making negative sense.
“It sure isn’t, kiddo.” Tom Coughlin’s voice sighs again. “And first... you need to face some hard truths about yourself.”
“You may find them here, in Jaguars Stadium. It’s a place for true spiritual growth and discovery, as we all know.”
Cody nods. Finally, one thing that makes complete sense.
“But you need to be open. You need to be... vulnerable. It’ll be all right in the end, I promise, kid. Just walk forward freely and stand up tall.”
“My junk’s gonna be out if I do that,” Cody protests.
“Eh, you’re a handsome fella,” Tom Coughlin’s voice says, almost flippantly. “What have you got to worry about there?”
Cody stiffens at that. It’s fucking true, goddamn it. He steps forward, arms at his sides, and walks with pride.