That’s the one thing I remember from those interviews after the crash. I remember that, and I recall how fast the questions came. I was the human form of a speed bag, the reporters pummeling just fast enough that I had time to catch my breath and say words at their next intrusive question. “How are you coping?” Words, words, words. “Are you in any pain? Will you ever swim again?” Words, words, words. “You must feel a tremendous amount of guilt. It’s natural; can you share a little about that?” Words, motherfucking words! I know why Curtis is pushing for this interview—I bring buzz, and that gets airtime, which equals revenue. As painful as the interview is, I feel like I owe him for this shot, and if it can help secure him as head coach—a coach, at the very least—then one afternoon of misery on my part isn’t so unbearable, especially when I look at it in context with the big picture of four years of grief.
