THE DEADLIEST SPORT

“In my experience, male athletes make the worst lovers and mates,” Calllie McCall said. “They suffer from underdeveloped emotions to the extent that they are virtually incapable of pleasing a partner. Not only do they have no idea how to please a woman, they don't have any interest in pleasing her. Since they were children, they have been taught to think only of competing and winning.”

“What the hell do you know?” I said, and jabbed the button to turn off the radio. If Callie McCall, the famous radio sex therapist wasn't such a man-hater, I'd show her a thing or two about pleasing a woman. She was probably a frustrated, frigid old maid who knew nothing about sex. What kind of person wanted to be a sex therapist any way?

I was running late for my lunch date, thanks to Ms. McCall. I couldn't understand why I worked myself into such a lather over her stupid show. I didn't know why I listened in the first place.

I drove into the restaurant parking lot a little too fast. I climbed out and patted my favorite valet's shoulder as I hurried into the restaurant. I always used the same valet because he treated my baby with the respect she deserved. I even let him take her for a spin around the block once in awhile. I figured it made him appreciate her – and me – more. I always took care of the people who took care of me, including the women in my life. Screw that sex therapist.

Alex, my agent, was sitting at our usual table by the window, so I spotted him easily. I made my way to the table and pulled out a chair. A waiter appeared before I could even settle myself into the chair.

“Did you want to wait for the other party, or would you like me to take your order now, sir?” the waiter asked Alex.

“I'm sure she will be here soon,” Alex told the waiter. “You can bring me another one of these in the meantime.” Alex raised his glass.

The waiter nodded and turned to me. “Sir?” “I'll just have water,” I said.

The waiter disappeared. “So who is joining us?” I asked.

“Well, you know that I've been working on something really special for you, right?” Alex asked, leaning toward me across the table.

“Yes,” I said slowly. This must either be a really great opportunity, or something Alex felt he had to sell me on. Most likely the latter, I thought. I'd known Alex a long time. Sometimes his ideas were great, sometimes not so much. I waited for him to tell me which kind of opportunity his latest plan would be.

“I've arranged a spot for you on that new reality show, 'Opposites Attract.' Isn't that great?”

I immediately searched my mind to remember anything or everything I had heard or read about 'Opposites Attract' and came up empty. My next thought was who would be my opposite? I was still trying to work out that one when I noticed a woman walking toward our table. She was a tall, voluptuous brunette with hair so black it was indigo, like in the comic books. She reminded me of Wonder Woman, and that's exactly how I began to think of her. If this was to be my opposite on theshow, it was the best idea Alex had ever had.

She bent over gracefully and kissed Alex on the cheek. He practically jumped from his chair to pull out the vacant one for her. Wonder Woman sat down, crossing her long, curvy legs towards me and offered me a dazzling smile.

“Zach Andrews, I'd like you to meet Dr. Callie McCall, the star of the radio program 'Pillow Talk.'

I heard the rest of the conversation as if I was hearing it from across a football field. Alex was telling her that I was one of the best quarterbacks to ever play in the NFL. He listed stats and wins and championships, but all I could do was stare at both of them like they were extraterrestrial aliens.

How could this gorgeous, sexy-as-hell creature be the same person I had raged at so many mornings? How could that attitude reside in that body? My opposite? She wasn't my opposite, she was my nightmare, my enemy!

Had Alex lost his mind?

###

A week later at the television station, I was asking myself if I had lost my mind. I sat in makeup for over an hour still wondering how I had let Alex talk me into doing this show. I had seen Callie McCall arriving on the set shortly after I had arrived. She was even more beautiful today than when I had met her at the restaurant, if that was possible. But as soon as she opened her mouth, that beauty disappeared.

So as Alex had later explained to me – later being after lunch when we were alone again and after I told him what I thought of his idea – the premise of the show was to pair two people who held opposing views and have them spend time together, doing everything that couples usually do. So essentially Callie McCallie and I were going to start a dating relationship with the whole world watching how we got along, or didn't.

I wanted no part of it, I told Alex, and I meant it. I was out. No way. Until she added her two-cents. Alex had arranged a phone call between Callie and me, hoping she could change my mind. I didn't bother telling him Callie McCallie was the last person on the planet who could change my mind about anything.

“I heard you want out of the show,” she said.

“I just don't think it's a very good use of my time,” I said.

“Why not?” she asked.

Why not? Because I can't stand you and you hate everything I am, I thought.

“Look, we have nothing in common. You've made it pretty clear what you think about athletes like me. What you don't understand apparently is that you can't lump all athletes into one category and make blanket statements about the kind of people they are,” I said.

“Then prove me wrong,” she replied. “Show me I'm wrong. Show me you're right. Show me you're different.”

“I don't have to prove myself to you or anyone else,” I said. God, this woman had a knack for getting under my skin.

She laughed. “Of course you don't. I'm not asking you to prove anything. I'm just asking you to show me how you're different...if, in fact, you are. Or are you afraid that in the end you aren't different? Maybe you're afraid I'm right.”

“I'll see you on the set next week,” I said and hung up the phone. Damn. I had lost my mind.

###