1 year later...
Who would've known 2/3 years ago, I'd be back on this field?
Me, I mean, I was here with good and professional intent, but in this way, definitely not me. Returning to the L.A. Rams field game day on the sidelines is a bittersweet moment.
Yamir made his grand return back to football this season after hardcore training with the weight of the world on his back. The physics and mental aspect is grueling but what eats at him is topping and bettering himself.
By setting he bar and the standard for football, he made it so much more difficult, but also more rewarding. But no one cares about that.
No one cares about anything he's done since his injury when he's back in the field, just him meeting expectation he set. Not to mention, the Rams did not have a great year whatsoever. So not only does he have to train and recover, he's got to rebuild.
More than anything, I relate to the investment and love he has in his sport, but as much as I help, I do love pissing him off.
A lot has changed in my personal life as well. I still work my same job with my same purpose, but not financially afraid. Somehow, we ended up with a rushed case for the lawsuit, and I was awarded a whopping $3.4 million.
But I ain't rich.
I paid off my house and bought another one. I paid off my parents and grandparents too. I wanted to do the same for my brother but he refused, so after some digging, I found out how much he owed, doubled it and put it in a trust fund for Averah, all while paying off her NICU bills.
I knew there was no way I could keep all that money. I donated some, invested in others, providing homes for the elderly, a center for those struggling with mental health issues, scholarships, and aide in medical assistance.
The rest however is tucked away.
The biggest move however was buying a home with Yamir. Neither of our places were home to the both of us anymore so we bought a nice home we could meet in the middle on, paying a mortgage of course.
Now it isn't all sunshine's and rainbows, cause me and Yamir just don't get along all the time. It gets to the point where I'm yelling at him and he's snickering because he knows it'll piss me off. There's times where we're play wrestling. Times where were love making. A lot lord of those. Times where we're bonding, but all moments I wouldn't trade for the world.
But the hardest nights of all wee game nights. If always brought back memories of the pregame excitement but instead, Yamir had driven himself to the point of literal panic attacks pregame.
Not to mention, post game terrors. Post game, he tries to do a little bit of press, but after that is where we get into it. He wants me to be up his ass after his games especially.
But I don't want to be in the media. And I also have a job. I literally can not come hold him after his game.
But we always find a way to reconnect. One the nights I can be with him, he always has a demand for a specific home cooked meal and drink, a literal scalp massage, he wants me to bath him, and then spend the night watching whatever of my choice and cuddling while I treat his leg.
Football has been a rough journey for him, and my purpose on the field now is to in fact support him. I'm it here for a certain job, though players still come up to me assessments and help, I'm here as his teammate, girlfriend but that sounds cliche.
However the game eventually begin and carry on. Yamir is playing beautifully. A huge difference now is he plays a whole lot smarter. He's completely locked in and focused, nowhere but in a hyper-focused mentality.
Flashback:
My heart was racing.
I could hear it at all points if my head and even felt the pulsating in my feet, but I couldn't even focus in that because all I could think Scott is how this moment is bigger than us all.
The hours, sacrifice, focus. The blood, sweat, and tears. Hurt people hurting people. Abs ask the responsibility that come with being who we are. We thought all I'd it was for this moment right here.
Abe that's where we were wing. Standing here today, hearing the crowd roar, cheerleaders and dancers screaming. Camera crew and other players. All the smoke.
This moment right here is for this generation abs ask the ones to follow. This moment is facing all of those who bet money, pride, and happiness on or downfall. All of this.
Instead of raining to a big walk to rejoice in, it's just a bigger door. Instead of excitement, happiness and pride. Nervousness, fear and anxiety filled of both me and him.
Not that any of it mattered though.
A few purple were waiting on us at the other end of this tone, but millions not have no clue. This moment right here signifies the restart of Yamir's Carter. But most importantly the growth is him mentally, physically, and emotionally.
The thought of me wishing I was on the other end of this tunnel, where I'm supposed to be passed. However games ores was for me to be there. Not only here in this tinted, but at his side the entire game.
So even though us hard. I swallowed all my emotions, heading ask the dices echo and voice it if the tunnel.
I walked up to Yamir and gave him a backwards huff. As much as I wish I could have this with him, this is a journey he's going to have to begin in his own. And I'll always be 2 steps beside him.
There were many things I probably could've said, but I couldn't think of a word that corms suffice. Words that could take his stress away.
Then it occurred to me. There were 3 that could do just the thing.
"I love you." I told him, holding him tight just as he was to me. "You've got this."
He didn't respond and that's ok. I looked over his shoulder to see tears running down his face.
"Forget all of that." I told him, resorting to the overwhelming crowd and band, also to the crew telling him to hurry too if he was going to go. "Do it for the 3 trade of little boy who just wants to play football."
I kissed his shoulder before taking a few steps back. Placing my hands behind my back abs fighting the tears fighting to spoil.
Table stood there for a minute. Not moving at all.
"I've got this."
Was the only thing he said before he took off rubbing. Making t his way through that door. Officially making his grand return to professional football.
As soon as he was only a few feet in front of the tunnel, ear splitting screams overtook the entire sold out stadium arena. Entirely the band rebegan. Music, reports, everything you could imagine.
Grabbing my bag, I made my way out the tunnel right as Prince, Blue, all ran up on Yamir, hugging/tackling him as the cameras started around them.
"Would you look at that?! Yamir banks is back on the field." The sounder showed, his confirmation making the crowd go wild.
Trying to figure out where I was supposed to be was challenging enough, but before I could find where I was supposed to be, table found me, placing a kiss on my lips.
"I love you," he told me, make sure he love me dead in the eye.
"I love you too." I told him, cheesing a bit.
"Let's go Banks!" His coach boomed, managing to still be authoritatively loud despite the huge crowd.
"Oh girl, you've got a lot to tell me. Let's go." Nathaniel told me dragging me to the medic table.
"Stay warm, stay locked in." I reminded Yamir before going to do my job.
One of the biggest misconceptions about the NFL trainers is that they're life savers. That is just not true. We're trained to assist and asses with injuries and recovery. Which at times can be life saving measures.
Though unsurprisingly, players are falling out left and right and propel look to us. I am certified to do for in all situations, and with the statistics now, most other trainers should.
A lot of people look to the medical team but very few give them the true recognition we deserve.
"Hey my Achilles." Some guy said, coming up to me as soon as I was behind my table.
I simply looked at him.
"Can you stretch it?" He continues, realizing I made no moves to move.
"Yeah, how is it typically done." I told him as he lairs on the padded bench.
Not to mention I'm one of few black females behind the scenes in a predominantly big, black man sport.
I could only hope none of the huge dudes don't need my attention. It's going to be nod of a wrestling session then anything.
The player showed how he was typically stretched, and as soon as I recognized the technique, I followed suit.
"Imma do that but I also want to try something new as well." I told him after a minute, seeing the immediate result, knowing it wouldn't necessarily be beneficial in the future.
"Does that hurt?" I questioned, starting the new technique is learned.
"No. That's good." He responded, smiling.
The own thing I miss about working with adults, the younger ones is their openness to trying new and not being either too small or too fragile for most techniques.
"You good?" I questioned after a moment, preferring to watch the game then do this.
"Yeah." He said.
Once I was done with his mini treatment, things mostly cooked down as the game was getting ready to begin.
"So what tends to happen around this time is keeping everyone warm. Don't be surprised if you hear one of them calling for us and wanting us to come to them." Nathaniel informed me.
Don't get me wrong, hearing the ridiculously funny athletes yell for their team staff is hilarious, but it does get to be a lot when tire cold you're self and already have people and things to tend to.
"You surely have mastered the art of disappearing." Nathaniel commented, nudging my elbow.
"Abra ca dab bra!" I said, doing the funny jazz hands.
"Girl and you look good." He complimented, even though I felt cold.
"Thank you you do too." I told him, thinking about all of his amazing Instagram posts.
He is the definition of living your best life without a care in the world.
"Now hopefully you won't have anymore heroic saves. You know I wanted to go to ESPN and be like where's the credit?! Ya know?" He said which was the truth.
It was the training staff that kept this man stable and everyone else safe when his injury occurred. All the ambulance and their workers did was drive the ambulance.
"Right." I responded, not being able to keep my eyes of Yamir.
"Where ya headed?" He asked, making me realize I was unintentionally making my way over there.
"Mr. Banks." I told him, even though it was obvious he wasn't in any need of my help.
"Let's go."
—
The first and second quarter roll through, then halftime, which I was violently craving Chick-fil-A, but because I couldn't eat on the field and refused to wait in line for 2 hours for it, had to wait.
Then came the 3rd and 4th. Those quarters were more neck to neck and I did my best to give him space. Somehow I ended up assessing a hamstring irritation and a shoulder that may or may not pop every time it rotated, of course we won't admit it because not everyone's contracts are as blessed as Yamir's.
Finally, the game was finally complete and I was ready to go home. The media was a frenzied storm and it felt good to know they weren't swarming around me but they still made me anxious. As soon as the clock cleared, Yamir placed a kiss on my shoulder, knowing better than to touch me drenched in sweat, before completing his press obligations.
Excitedly I gathered my stuff, saying my goodbyes to Nathaniel and the coaching and medical staff, along with the players who recognize me before snapping a few photos of Yamir, which I knew he would post, and then making my way to the car.
"Bae," he shouted even though I was quite literally in the same room technically, the bathroom didn't even have a whole wall disconnecting it from the room.
I have never been in this nice of a bathroom, let alone this nice of a room. I don't think I could ever get used to this 5 star, top of the line conditions. I've got to keep myself, my area, and my stuff spick and span so I don't stick out like a stain on a white sweater.
I didn't respond, focusing on doing my absolute best to not fuck my makeup up.
"Bae," he shouted again, I still kept my entire face in the mirror, hoping slow and steady would win the race.
"Blyss Brielle!" He shouted louder than ever, instantly pissing me off.
"What?!" I shouted back, not even being able to be serious cause all I could think about was Frozone and Honey in the Incredibles 2.
"Are you done?" He asked, poking his head in the bathroom.
"No I'm not done!" I exclaimed, showing him what was frustrating me so bad.
"We'll hurry up." He said, simply, taking only one look and then looking away.
"I'm trying." I whined, trying my hardest not to mess up this eyeshadow.
Since I couldn't see, I crawled up on the marble counter, nearly pressing my face to the mirror.
"What are you doing?" He asked, taking around me for his skincare products.
We're not going to talk about how this man has a slew of different products and a brand deal/ collaboration in the works.
"I'm trying to do my makeup if you'd just give me a few minutes to myself." I told him frustratedly, genuinely ready to cry because I didn't have time to mess this up or start over and I refuse to go bare faced.
What was getting me was this no makeup makeup look
"I'm sorry. I'm just in a rush." He told me, rubbing my back door a few minutes but giving me the space, enough was the whole wall mounted mirror, I needed to keep my cool.
"So do you need me to leave like this?" I exaggerated, referring to the incomplete look on my face and the sweat pants that may or may not be his.
"Nah, you gon have to go on head and fix that cause it don't look right." He told me, making me want to throw an tantrum.
"Mir," in deadpanned, wiping the tears before it touched my bare face.
"I mean your beautiful, this just ain't looking too hot." He told me honestly.
Knowing it was right, I grabbed a makeup Wo, wiping it all off and staring again at prime. This really is final ba no make up make up look.
Saying again, with lighter makeup and less focus on complete and exact precision, I was actually making the makeup look I wanted to have. And with god time, if I rushed and finished getting ready in the car, thanks to NFL traffic, we stood a chance of being on time.
"See it looks better now." Yamir said with a boyish grin, kissing my forehead.
"I don't like you." I told him, watching our reflection in the mirror.
Me in his jersey tank top. I absolutely love it. Ok the inside it's completely customized with hand written notes from him.
"I love you."
Cheerleading is something that will always be a part of me. This sport made me who I am.
Standing here, under these bright lights made something click in my mind. I wanted private because I don't want to be scrutinized.
Yamir is perfect for this life. He knows exactly, what to say, what to do, and has the talent to back him.
Me on the other hand, I have no clue. That doesn't come naturally to me. I know I won't be comfortable, and I know I won't be able to take the world tearing me down.
I want to live freely to make mistakes and not change.
But with how long Yamir and I have been together and how serious this relationship has become, I'd rather introduce myself, showing here and there opposed to getting "exposed."
I can tile though, standing under these lights, in this field, has taken me back to a place that embodies the just the motivation I need, hope, hard work, and adrenaline.
There's no way in hell even the naive Crimson Tide world champ would imagine be being here.
"Come on." Yamir told me, holding my hand tightly.
"I'm coming. My heel just keeps getting stuffed in this turf." I told him, fighting the urge to take them off completely.
Why the hell we're even waking in the middle of the field, I don't know. I really don't even know how I made it the whole evening in them to begin with.
"Okay." He said, simply matching my pace, staring at the huge lights beaming on us.
As we reached about the 35 years line, my heart began to race and I couldn't even tell you why.
Somehow Yamir noticed, he squeezes my hand a night tighter before sending me a questioning look, one that most likely means do you want me to go back.
"How much farther?" I asked, not knowing how much longer my ankles could hold up.
"The 50." He said quickly, instantly gaining a side eye.
"The 50?!" I exclaimed.
Thought it wasn't that far, what are we even doing out here to begin with? Why can't I come in these shoes? And is it necessary that we hold hands.
We did not discuss this beforehand.
I gave him one more side eye before making my way to the 50, keeping my not nice comments to myself.
"Take your time mama." He told me, letting me walk ahead but definitely making me a tad bit insecure.
We reached the 50 in no time and I stood there in awe at the beauty of the field. Yamir always tells me that standing on the field makes him feel like a kid again. One football within this rectangle. He has one job only and all eyes are on him.
I guess I get where he gets that from.
"Yamir. There people still in here." I told him, realizing he's her to stand beside me, he was kind of a few steps behind.
"I know." He said quietly, making a wave of anxiety rush through me.
He couldn't be?....
I hear him suck in a huge breath before he stands in front of me, barely and I mean barely able to make eye contact.
"What are you doing?" I questioned, freaking out inside.
I already had my stressors and worries but I could feel nervousness radiating off him like a furnace and it had the power to drive me insane.
"I had a whole speech together... and it's not the best." He started, kicking his lips.
Then it all made sense. There's people in here. In this huge stadium arena. They're watching. Yank has the tiniest microphone tucked in his shirt. Even though the crowd can't hear us, this was meant to be recorded.
He gave me one more look before getting down on a knee, sweating.
Yamir's expressed this entire time about him living living through his inner child. But for me, I've always seen him as a man. He's had his weak spots and moments, but never less than that.
But in this moment, for the first time, I saw the little boy in all his photo albums on a knee right in front of me.
"B, I've known for the last nearly 10 years that you're gonna be the woman I married... well tried to, cause I know your mean asss will say no." He stated making me smile.
"It's hard for me to explain why you mean so much to me cause I don't even know myself. You've changed my life for the better. I know hot it feels to be without you too. How a Nigga be empty inside without you. But my love for you, it's hard to describe.
There's no other way I can put it. That feeling where I wake up and see you jumping on the bed like a five year old. The way you roll yo eyes and catch an attitude with a Nigga, your meanness, yo stubbornness, determination, your heart. The way your parents really named you an adjective.
I love you. The way you love me. The way I can't go to bed without hearing your voice. And the way I can't start my day off without irritating you in some way.
That love, that love is something I wanna feel for a lifetime. When we're 80 and wrinkly. Can't hardly walk. The way we see our future kids, mean like us but with a heart like their mama.
Everyday with you is a blessing, you've been a wonderful girlfriend but the title just doesn't suffice when you even. Think to consider all you've done for me, you and our relationship.
So with that being said... Blyss Brielle, will you marry me?"
I didn't even realize all the tears I was shedding until I saw tear drops falling from my face.
But my expression really changed when Yamir pulled out the ring box. - find that embodies everything I could've imagined.
He did listen. I wanted a simple band with something pretty on top, nothing huge, extravagant, and over the top, and something tray could last a lifetime.
"Yeah." I choked out, wiping the tears from my eyes.
"Yeah?" He questioned, so overcome with emotions and a few tears himself.
"Yes." I exclaimed, pulling him up and giving him the biggest hug.
Doing the absolute lost, he picked me up, holding me so tightly I could feel his heart beating out his chest,
"She said yeah!" Yamir screamed, causing the crowd to roar.
Hey guys 👋🏽
Writing his proposal was one of the hardest things about writing this book 🥺
I love them 💞
One more update before you guys, will hopefully, add Half N Half.
Bye 😘
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