Chapter Two: Meeting Ryan Andrews
(Stan)
There’s at least two sides to every story, sometimes more depending on how many people are involved. Ours has more than just Ryan’s and mine, but we’re the two that matter the most, and it’s why I can’t let Ryan tell it alone.
Not that I don’t trust him! I do, and I know he’ll tell it in his usual funny and easy going way, but you’ll never get the full story unless I tell you my side of it. After all, no two people can tell the same story the exact same way.
I could also start at the beginning of my story, giving you background information about my family, where I grew up and how that all impacted the person I was when I met Ryan, but like him, I’ll skip ahead; since all that can be revealed like it was for us as we got to know each other.
Instead, let me start with something that I’d learned about meeting people and their eyes, because it’s very accurate for when I met Ryan.
I’ve always been a firm believer that a person’s eyes could tell you a lot about who they are. People could study and practice ways to control their expressions, but nine times out of ten, their eyes gave away what they were really thinking or feeling. Giving you a glimpse into the deeper parts of themselves that they tried to hide away.
The eyes told you a story, even if the fragments revealed didn’t quite fit together or tell a cohesive tale, and it was up to the observer to decide if they wanted to spend the time to figure it out or move on. Personally, I’d learned long ago that it was usually worth the effort to dig a little deeper.
So when a set of determined, cloudy, blue eyes first met mine while standing in Trev’s foyer, I couldn’t help but wonder at them. They were friendly, sparkled with hints of the intelligence and wit as Trev introduced us, but there was also an underlying resolution in them that I couldn’t initially place; that dared me to take the time to delve deeper and find out who he really was.
I’d already heard a little about Ryan Andrews from Trev, which I guessed gave me the advantage from the way he looked shocked when his attention focused on me.
Everything I’d been told was good. I knew that Trev trusted and respected Ryan, that he’d been one of Trev’s biggest supporters not only during the past year, but also in the couple before that. What I hadn’t known before was just how good looking he was.
I wasn’t a huge football fan. I watched it and even went to games, but I couldn’t tell you what anyone’s stats were or how many seasons a player had been with the Bucks or any other team.
I didn’t pay much attention to what players did off the field either, so my only views of Ryan came from seeing him on the field, the sidelines and on TV.
That’s why being less than five feet away from him was an eye opening experience. He was tall; much taller than I thought he would be. He and Trev were the same height, six foot five, which Trev might have mentioned before, but I’d always pictured Ryan shorter for some reason.
I had to look up a little to keep eye contact which was a strange experience for me, since most of the men I knew were either around my height or shorter.
Along with being tall, he was unbelievably muscular. If we hadn’t been in the middle of being introduced and the center of attention, I would’ve continued my admiration below the waist.
But I already knew from watching him play on TV that his lower muscle density matched his upper and could be patient and discreet about getting a better look.
Part One
Unavoidable Meetings
Chapter One: Meeting Stan Yeger
(Ryan)
I’ve met a ton of people in my life. That might not make me any different than most people, but I’m guessing the reason why does. Having been a quarterback for a pro team that had the talent and money to win Super Bowls put my life in the spotlight and made people think they knew me.
Some of my teammates and colleagues complained about it, resenting it when their dinner was interrupted by a fan wanting an autograph or they were delayed from catching a late flight by someone wanting a selfie. That’s where we were different.
I loved meeting new people and instantly being connected to them in some way. Sure, sometimes they approached me when I was busy or would rather be left alone and I had to rush through a conversation or autograph because I needed to be somewhere. But I always tried to stop and give people a moment. When I did, two things usually happened.
Sometimes people wanted to share their knowledge about football and my career; reminding me of my completed pass percentage, a throw during a key game, offering me pointers on how to toss or grip the ball, or telling stories about watching a game. Like how they sat in the stands during the coldest one I ever played in, forever connecting us through our shared experience of freezing our butts off.
But sometimes the stories were more personal ones, where they shared how watching me play football impacted their lives. It sounds crazy when you think about it; me throwing balls down the field having an influence on people. . .but somehow it did.
Those were the conversations that stuck with me more than others. They were the ones that taught me that it was worth taking the time to stop and listen to people; to get to know them. They were the ones that constantly reminded me that your life could change forever with just one meeting.
Like Brian. When I first saw him waiting outside the stadium door for an autograph, I didn’t think about him being anything other than a normal teenage boy wanting me to sign something. He looked like your typical teenage guy.
He had a couple pimples on his face, metal braces that made my teeth ache and a boundless energy that screamed “I’m ready to take on the world!” The grin plastered on his face as I signed a picture was so huge, that it made my cheeks hurt when I handed it back to him.
But then something happened and it’s why I remember meeting him. As he looked down at the photo, his grin slowly faded away until he was staring at it with sad reminiscent eyes and his fingers gently brushed over my signature. “My dad would’ve loved this.” he whispered more to himself than to me, but I still needed to know why.
I asked him where his dad was and he told me about Gene, a lieutenant in the U.S. army who got stationed overseas when Brian was eight. He was two months away from returning home when he stepped on a mine during a routine patrol. He didn’t make it.
Before he lost his dad, they would watch games together, cheering me and the team on because his dad had gone to the same college as me and followed my career. Which was why he was at the stadium that day. He’d continued to watch the team and follow my career as a way to remember a special thing that he and his dad did together.
I was forever connected to Brian and by hearing his story, he was connected to me. That’s what it’s about, isn’t it? Our need to share our stories and experiences so we can all feel connected to each other. We all want to be seen, accepted and loved for who we really are and the way that happens is by us meeting, connecting, and exposing ourselves.
Maybe that’s why I’ve agreed to tell our story; so people can finally know and see both of us for who we really are. Not just the guys they’ve read about or seen on TV, although we are those guys too, but the ones that have lived and loved in between those public moments.
Maybe it’s because we believe that it’s a story worth sharing, but haven’t really known how to do that until now. Thinking about it though, I’d have to say that it’s a little of all of the above.
What I do know for sure, is that it doesn’t begin at the beginning. I could start there and get you caught up to what happened up until that point; giving you glimpses into what our lives were like before; but if you’re like me, you just want to get to the meat of the story. That starts on an unsuspecting weekend trip to my best friend’s house.
