During Ohio State’s victory over rival Michigan, star quarterback J.T. Barrett suffered what appeared to be a leg injury. In live action, the nature of the injury was a tad mysterious. Coach Urban Meyer was not content with that. Following the game, Meyer claimed that the injury was caused by a cameraman on the sideline. He also said he was going to try to find out who the cameraman is. This is the story of Meyer’s quest, vaguely sorta kinda based on a true story.
The Cameraman, starring Urban Meyer
Ohio State continues to dominate the rivalry with Michigan, but wins aren’t enough any more. Today, the win was not so sweet. It did not feel the same that in a win, you could lose so much. Urban stood on the sideline and looked on as his star quarterback fell to the turf. At the time, it was a problem of that game. Would redshirt freshman Dwayne Haskins be able to fill in for a quarterback that has been a member of the program for so long.
He ultimately proved he could. But that wasn’t good enough for Urban. He sensed something in the water. The injury was not just that. There was more to it and he knew it. After winning the game, he was able to think about it more. The win never set in because he was lost in his thoughts.
His zone finally broke as he sat in his seat in front of the press room. The question came regarding his quarterback’s injury. All the thoughts he had been stewing on flowed from his mouth at once.
“Many may not know what happened today, but I do,” Meyer began his diatribe. “My quarterback, J.T. Barrett was injured today not as a matter of chance. Instead, he was injured as a thought-out act of camera placement.”
“That’s right,” he continued. “a cameraman injured my quarterback. At this moment, a faceless and nameless cameraman to me. But he will not remain as such. He can not hide from his atrocities.” At this point, he stared directly into the camera. “If you are out there, listen up. I don’t know who you are or your desires. I don’t know what you could gain from this. What I do know is this is a sin that will not go unpunished. I have a very particular set of skills and I will use them to find you. Hear me, cameraman, I will not sleep until you are found.”
The press room was silent. Somewhere in the room, a reporter clicked his pen closed. After what seemed like an eternity of silence, Meyer silently pushed his chair out from the table and exited the room, leaving the reporters to try to decide what to do with the information they just heard.
“What the fuck was that,” one guy in the back said after another eternity of silence. At this the reporters began to gather their things and leave the press room. All the while, Urban Meyer sat at his desk, planning how he would proceed. Calls were coming in at an unbelievable rate. Calls from reporters, family, assistant coaches. He turned his phone over and put it on silent.
Chapter 2: Jordan Gables
There was a knock on his door. He rose from his seat and answered it. Standing in the doorway was what appeared to be a student. Maybe a freshman or sophomore. “Hello, Coach Meyer,” he began.”
“Save it, kid. I have a lot of work to do and not a lot of direction on how to do it,” Urban cut him off and began to close the door, but the kid was persistent. With a foot in the door, he stood as tall as his 5’7″ frame could. “That’s why I’m here, Coach. I believe I have information regarding your ‘faceless cameraman.'”
Meyer froze, left speechless. “Yes,” the kid continued. “I am Jordan Gables, a sports freshman reporter for The Lantern. I saw your press conference and agreed with what you said. Something was amiss with J.T.’s injury. Accidents don’t just happen like that.”
“So what do you know,” Meyer finally mustered.
“I found a clip and did some research. Here is the clip,” he turned his phone to Coach Meyer to show some grainy image. “The cameraman is indeed a man. I estimate him to be about your height and age. From there, I can not make out much more. Of the nearly 100 camera and production crew Fox brings to games, I could find about 65 matching these qualifications.”
“How does that help me?” Meyer was beginning to get frustrated.
“I have the list of names that fit the qualifications and were working this game and also the name and number of the producer, whom I assume will have the whereabouts of each member of his crew during that exact moment. I believe I can find you your cameraman by the end of the day.”
“Kid, you are really kind of a nut case, but I like you. You’re what I need. I have a game to prepare for and need a hand. Get me a name.”
“I will, Coach. I just had one more thing,” Jordan began as he put his phone back in his pocket, “what are you going to do to him?”
“I’m going to make him wish he was never born.”
Jordan silently let the door shut and walked away. He had work to do. Before he left the facility, he was already on the phone with his best lead. But the line was dead. It was 3 on a Saturday, but he could not get in touch with the producer of Fox’s broadcast of The Game. So instead he called the first name on the list. Again, the line didn’t even ring. The next number resulted in the same amount of success. Number after number, dead. Jordan grew more apprehensive the more he was greeted by dead air on the other line.
As he dialled the last number and was met with the same amount of success, he sat down on his dorm room bed in dejection. He may have walked into something more than he originally thought. He decided to take a shower and clear his head a bit.
Returning to his room, he noticed he had a text message. It was from an unknown number. It said simply, “stop digging.” The area code was from Michigan. Jordan called the number back and was greeted with his first dial tone. The ringing stopped. There was a man on the other line who said, “Stop, Jordan.”
For once in his life, he was speechless, but snapped out of it quickly and was able to get out a, “Meet me at Rohr Cafe at 6.” The “ok” response surprised him, but he prepared his work and alerted Coach Meyer of the meeting. Finally, progress.
Chapter 3: The Meeting
Jordan was on time as he always was. He grabbed a table by the window like him and his mystery partner had decided on. He got a hot chocolate, coffee was too bitter for him. They didn’t have breakfast sandwiches and that infuriated him. This was off to a bad start.
Fifteen minutes late, a hooded figure appeared. “I am the cameraman,” he said, taking a seat across from Jordan.
Jordan was speechless. What? No way it was this easy. There had to be something more. “What’s… What’s your name?” he asked.
“Nathan.”
“Who hired you, Nathan?”
“That is something I can not tell you. It is something you will find out very soon, though.”
Jordan didn’t like this ominous voice. He was completely thrown off his game. “I need a second outside,” he said to the hooded figure and walked out the door. Nathan responded with simply, “Good.”
Jordan walked outside of the coffee shop and took a deep breath. The air was cold and it made his lungs sore. He was feeling much better, though, so he turned around again and grasped the handle.
But someone grabbed him. They put a towel to his face and he passed out before he could resist. Nathan walked out of the cafe and took an arm. Under the other arm was a much more recognizable figure.
. . .
Jordan woke up after a couple hours tied to a chair in a dimly lit office. He wiggled to try to get free but it was of no use. He was tied tight. There were sheets covering all walls of the office and a desk light shining in his face. “Nathan? Nathan? Are you still here?” he whispered sheepishly.
Nathan emerged from one of the sheets, still hooded. He had a rope draped over his shoulder, but the rope like in Casino Royale where the bad guy really beats the shit out of James Bond but James Bond still wins because he’s James Bond. “You need to stop digging,” he said still without taking off his hood. “This is all for the best. This was the plan and continues to be the plan. You need to stop.”
“Whose plan is it? What are you talking about? J.T. is injured going into the championship game. This is the biggest game of the season by far and our quarterback isn’t 100%.”
“Our quarterback is 100%,” a different voice said from behind the sheet. This was a familiar voice. One that Jordan knew well.
“Coach?”
Urban walked out from behind the sheet. “You weren’t supposed to get this far, Jordan. My idiot sandwich of a son wasn’t supposed to contact you. Take the fucking hood off, Nate.”
Nate Meyer removed his hood and lowered his head.
“Coach, why?” Jordan asked.
“I’m sick of J.T.,” Urban began. “I’ve had more than enough of not knowing what quarterback is stepping on the field. Dwayne is the future. I can do much more with him. I have been asking J.T. to leave for two years, but he refuses. How long has he been here, anyway? Like 8 years? Dude is like Perry Ellis, but not as important as Perry Ellis was to Kansas.
“Coach, couldn’t you have just benched him?”
He laughed heartily at this idiotic idea. “You just don’t get it, kid. There is always a better way, a flare for the dramatic. Faking an injury is always better than just making a decision. You should know that about me. Remember when I left Florida?”
“So you used Nate, your SON, to hurt Barrett so you wouldn’t have to make a normal coaching decision? And then flipped out to the media? And then kidnapped me? All because you didn’t want to make a normal, average, everyday coaching decision?”
“That’s right, Jordan. You’re brighter than you look.”
“Fuck this, untie me. You’re a dumbshit. I’m transferring,” Jordan said.
As Nate untied the young reporter, Urban grinned smugly. No one will defeat me, except maybe Iowa.
