Pyrrhic Victory: Geoff's Version

Pyrrhic Victory: Geoff's Version

By jaxjack1980

Author's Note: The following story is entirely fictional and comes from the author's imagination and creative efforts only. Any resemblance to real-live people, living or dead, or to any real-life places. businesses, events, or situations are entirely coincidental and do not truly reflect them in any manner. This world is a part of my fantasies and I take credit for all mischief and mistakes that reside within it! (Aside from a few real world pop-culture references and veiled easter eggs for my own fun..) Any characters engaged in sexual activity are 18 years of age or older. Mature and adult themes explored (see tags). Warning: this is not a "stroke" story; please read tags! Also, self-edited so some mistakes are definitely abound!

Narrative Note: While the following tale can be read as a stand-alone story, it can also be read as a pseudo follow-up to my other similarly titled stories, "A Pyrrhic Victory P1: Blindsided or Pyrrhic Victory. I have taken a different narrative approach here but it can be read alongside or in conjunction to the events depicted within them.

Additional note: Why do I write stories this way? In truth, this was the originally planned first entry and the inspiration for those tales. Plus, I like to play with differing perspectives and am constantly fascinated by how two people can witness the same series of events at the same time and come to two completely different conclusions. Another more likely explanation, my brain is wired differently and just likes to take weird side trips from time to time! Hope you enjoy the ride! (Seriously though, read the tags before proceeding!)

Part I: Wins and Losses

"Sometimes when you win, you really lose, and sometimes when you lose, you really win. And sometimes when you win or lose, you really tie... Winning or losing is all one organic mechanism, from which one extracts what one needs."

Gloria Clementine "White Men Can't Jump" (1992)

"Have you ever had a memory that contained both one of your best and worst moments at the same time? An singular experience in time where you emotionally whiplashed from a euphoric high to a sudden and quick despondent low within the span of a few heartbeats? If not, let me share my story of having gone through such an heartbreaking roller coaster."

"Oh, before I begin, I'm Geoff "Inconceivable!" Daniels, a junior at South Texas Christian University at Dallas. Never heard of me or it? That's okay, just sit back and hopefully you'll get something from my tale of woe..."

It occurred during the closing moments of a football game between national ranked powerhouse the University of Michigan and my alma mater, a little podunk division II school, Southern Texas Christian University at Dallas (STCUD), playfully referenced as "Shut the Cock Up, Dummies/ Dicks by some it's more aspiring poetic souls, at the University of Michigan stadium (aka The Big House) in Ann Arbor.

For some added reference, Michigan is a school with a student population well over 50k and its athletic department rakes in hundreds of millions of dollars in revenue yearly. STCUD, on the other hand, boasts a student body of little under 17 thousand and would be lucky to have even close to a tenth of Michigan's massive war chest funding.

Yet here we were, little David standing up to the proverbial two ton Goliath, daring to pull off the impossible. We were currently behind 31-26 at the moment but threatening inside their 20 with less than 10 seconds left to play.

I was particularly invested in the outcome because I had, on a lark, placed a $25 bet on our team pulling off the impossible by upsetting the current #3 ranked team in the nation, and stood to win a tidy sum of money due to the 42-to-1 odds if this "million to one shot" paid off.

As I sat surrounded by fellow alumni at my favorite bar, "The Kangaroo and the Kiwi", I quietly prayed to whatever receptive deity lay out there to bless my team to victory, while offering all sorts of outrageous supplications.

"Please Jesus or St. Rita of Cascia if he's too busy, all I'm asking is for one small miracle, one tiny divine intervention as a reward for my 21 years of mostly diligent, mostly unwavering faith. Aside from that brief rebellious, regrettable goth phase in my late teens, I believe I have kept the faith and don't think I'm asking for too much," I implored silently while looking imploringly to the heavens.

For a moment, it looked my prayers would go unanswered as on the very next play, two massive 300 plus pound giants adorned in Michigan blue and maize crashed through our out-matched blue and white decked out offensive line (God, even our uniforms made us look like a bunch of high school jayvee wannabees going against a collegiate varsity squad consisting of full-grown men!) and looked to be completely unimpeded on their duel, rumbling paths to our currently annointed starting quarterback, looking to inflict some bodily harm that would make the victims of a 25-car pile-up feel grateful in comparison.

In fact, they had succeeded in doing precisely just that to our previous starting QB toward the end of the first half. The last medical update stated that he had luckily regained consciousness on his way to the nearest medical facility and was listed in "stable" condition awaiting further testing.

It was therefore reasonable, for most of the fans watching the action unfold on the bar's main 85 inch big screen, to flinch anxiously as they watched the forlorn looking figure of our QB disappear under the combined weight of 650 pounds of All-American beef garbed in enemy colors. It truly looked like my prayers would not be answered this day and I started to reach for my wallet, intent on paying my tab and making a quick get-a-way to avoid the sea of patrons who were likely thinking the same.

An unexpected cheer brought my eyes back to the screen and what I saw made my heart leap up in disbelief.

Our previously unheralded backup QB had just pulled off a play for the ages by pulling an escape worthy of the great Harry Houdini and managing to extract himself from the two gigantic rampaging defensive linemen who had intended him grievous bodily harm. The resulting collision had instead resulted in a hilarious pin-ball effect as the two defensive lineman crashed and bounced off one another, falling haplessly to the turf in the aftermath.

Taking advantage of this fortuitous turn of events, our qb darted his way through the now wide- open middle of the field to score the game-winning touchdown as he was tackled by a rapidly pursuing defender, extending the football over the goal line with no time left to play!

"Touchdown! Yes, thank you God! A game-winning touchdown that gave our band of misfits an improbable 32-31 victory over previously undefeated football titan Michigan; more importantly paid off my ridiculous wager," I cheered silently as the rest of the crowd exploded in more boisterous demonstrations of joy.

Celebrations rang out throughout the bar as random strangers embraced and hugged each other like long-lost relatives reunited from a long, unexpected absence. I, myself, no social butterfly, enthusiastically engaged in a spirited bearhug with a slightly overweight bearded man who reeked of day old B. O and pungent weed. After repeating my celebration with a 'slightly more appealing' buxom young red-headed coed, I turned back to the screen to bask in the triumphant splendor of our conquering gridiron heroes!

All of a sudden, our festivities were interrupted as a loud groan emanated from a more discerning portion of the crowd as someone yelled that the previous play was under video review by the refs. If the video showed evidence to the contrary, our celebration would go down as one of the most short-lived ones in the history of sports.

You could practically hear the proverbial pin drop as an eerie silence fell upon the whole bar as we all waited with baited breath for the game-clinching call. Miraculous victory or a dolorous defeat relied on the small group of men conferring on the field reviewing the footage before them.

Finally after what felt like half an hour but was more than likely only a minute or two, a consensus was reached and after breaking the huddle, the head referee turned to face the television cameras, reaching to activate his microphone as he declared the long-awaited verdict.

"Upon further review, the original ruling that the runner had successfully extended the football over the goal-line before being contacted down by the opposing team has been confirmed. Result of the play: Touchdown STCUD! The play occurred with no time left on the field and marks the end of regulation. The final score is 32-31 South Texas Christian over #3 Michigan..."

The rest of the announcement was drowned out by the raucous cheers that erupted from the lungs of the nearly-capacity crowd of "The Kangaroo and Kiwi" as anxious, pent up feelings were given an outlet to express themselves.

As I surreptitiously avoided the gaze of my previous male celebratory companion in search of more appealing options to embrace, I took a moment to revel in my good fortune.

"A 42-to-one payout on a $25 dollar bet would yield over a grand in winnings! Oh man, I should set some of that aside to take my girlfriend out for a romantic dinner and a nice gift once she gets back," I mused.

This is where the other shoe dropped as I returned my gaze in time to see the cameras capture a closeup of our newly annointed hero/star qb passionately groping and making out with one of our team's charming young cheerleaders. It seemed that after scoring on the game-winning play, the cameras had followed him as he ran down the sidelines toward our cheerleading section and quickly embraced one of its participants to celebrate the win in a graphic display of public affection!

Normally, like any red-blooded man, I wouldn't begrudge our new man of the hour from taking the opportunity to enjoy his good fortune with a comely young coed. Who wouldn't dream of being in such a scenario: a conquering hero claiming his just rewards for a job well done!

Except one tiny detail kept me from cheering what l was seeing. You see, the object of our ardent champion's affection was someone that I was very familiar with, one who had played a starring role in a number of my fantasies the past few years: my one and only loving girlfriend Desi "Dee Dee" Keane!

"Inconceivable" my mind screamed.

Yet the image plastered on the screen could not be denied: it was my Dee Dee.

It would be probably hard for other people to identify her what with their faces and bodies pressed up against each other so tightly that most of their recognizable features were blocked from view, but after spending countless hours lovingly memorizing every contour of her frame and basking in so many similar passionate embraces, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that there was not mistake, no matter how I wished otherwise. A dreaded certainty that only was the only thing I could count on in the face of what I was witnessing.

"Inconceivable! Inconceivable!"

Cue somber music and gloomy lighting. There in the middle of the screen in all its 85 inch, 8k high definition glory was my beautiful, sexy lithe brown-haired blue-eyed partner of two years pressing her lips and body hungrily against this dark-skinned muscular Adonis.

"Inconceivable! Inconceivable! Inconceivable! You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means," my mind replayed the memorized exchange from one of my favorite childhood movies as some sort of defensive mechanism, trying to distract my conscious thoughts from what I was seeing unfold before me.

Now, I know I'm not a terrible looking person and have my set of good qualities. I'm of average height and build with a lean build from running and cycling that is decorated by light brown eyes and hair that more than a few found appealing. In my life, I had managed to do fairly well for myself and had counted myself lucky to find such a beauty in Dee Dee a few years ago.

But even I would not be able to deny how better suited she looked with her athletically gifted counterpart, both picture perfect definitions of youthful prowess and vitality. Her long lightly tanned legs with one knee bent skyward while raising her top teasingly upwards to expose her tight, toned stomach. Our new big man on campus, on the other hand, his tall dark physique looming over Dee Dee's as he was pressing down from above like a predator claiming his prey as his body hovered over hers.

Fortunately, my public embarrassment mercifully did not last an inordinate amount of time and despite the max amount of devastating emotional damage inflicted by what I saw, I counted myself lucky when the footage cut back to the amused faces of the commentators who no doubt were making a pithy comment or two of what they had witnessed before returning to their analysis of the game.

Freed from my stunned revelry as the ghastly image disappeared, I quietly paid my tab with a decent tip and headed home, but not before making a quick detour to pick up a fifth of my favorite whiskey bourbon to drown my miseries in.

On my way out of the store, a number of screaming fans tore down the streets making cacophonous celebrations, my mind cruelly thinking that it was ironic that the source of my despondency was filling others with unchecked glee and euphoria as they drunkenly sang my betrayer's praises for all to hear. Chants of "Odean (yes, that was the bastard's name) the Great" grew louder and louder no matter where I turned.

Once home, I knew myself-desired solitude would not be disturbed anytime soon as it looked like I had the whole place to myself. The telltale signs that my roommate had left for home for the rest of the weekend were evident.

I briefly checked my phone and saw several messages from friends and family all reveling in the unexpected victory. A few teasing ones from my older brothers and father who had all previously mocked my school's athletic accomplishments mixed with more emphatic congratulations from my younger sister and mother. I sent the obligatory replies without much thought and briefly scanned through for the one that I dreaded both seeing and not: a message from Dee Dee.

She usually sent one right after the end of every game and it had been a good 45 minutes since the end of this one. Yet, over the number of texts that filled my phone's screen, none had her name beside it.

I must have stood there for a good 10 minutes, trying to manifest some sort of message from my loving girlfriend but alas, my mental abilities were not that advanced and only texts from a few other well-wishers came through.

Deciding that enough was enough, I took the bull by the horns and sent a couple of texts of my own.

"Hey DD! Looks like u and team stole show in AA!"

"Congrats on W and ur 15 min fame!"

There, vague enough with some subtle hint that would later reveal I had seen what she had truly done.

"Way to show that $65K education is paying off Geoff!"

Unpleasantness accomplished, I silenced my phone and opened up the bottle of liquor to truly celebrate my current predicament while flicking on the TV and telling my smart device to play something from my favorites list.

Oh good, "White Men Can't Jump" was on, I really liked that movie and it was sure to help take my mind off my conflicted thoughts. Taking a healthy swing from my bottle, I slumped on my worn out futon and prepared to enjoy this classic piece of cinema in soon to be inebriated state of appreciation.

"How appropriate, I'm just in time to hear Gloria's speech about winning and losing," I said aloud to myself. "Truly God laughs at man's plans..."

"Wait, was that the right quote? Screw it close enough."

To bring that salient point home, my smart device finally decided to accept my previously stated command and soon a song came on that it felt matched my request.

"What is love?... Oh baby, don't hurt me... don't hurt me no more..."

"Perfect," I said to the empty room, as I took another healthy swig of my liquor.

"Yep, that's just fucking perfect..."