MD - Chapter 280: Geller CupNewYesterday
On Saturday, around two in the afternoon, Monica, Ross, Chandler, Carol, and Rachel were at Pearl Park.
A completely different atmosphere from yesterday at the stadium. People walked calmly, others were sitting on the grass, and others looked out at the river.
The park opened into well-kept green spaces, with tall trees that provided natural shade and stone paths that crossed between them. The sky was completely clear, without a single cloud, and the sun came down clean, making the cold not feel so harsh, although it was still there.
They were under one of those trees, where the shade mixed with the sunlight filtering through the leaves. Chandler wore a cap backwards and a sports outfit that looked quite new, too new.
He had bought it recently. He hadn't brought clothes for something like this, and he wasn't going to show up to throw passes, even if it was just a few, dressed as if he were going to dinner or taking a walk. Even less so if on the other side there would be Jesus Christ and his Apostle.
"Uf, we made it on time," Ross said, looking at the watch on his wrist with a certain satisfaction and nervousness in his tone.
Rachel turned her head toward him, with an expression somewhere between incredulous and amused. She wore a long black coat, elegant but casual, with metallic buttons and a clean fall that gave her presence effortlessly. Underneath, a darker, more fitted outfit and a green scarf that broke with the rest, adding color. Her hair loose, perfectly arranged as if she hadn't done anything for it to look that way.
"On time?" she repeated, "There are still thirty minutes left before the agreed time."
As she spoke, she brought a hand to her neck, feeling the cool air that moved from side to side through the park. January in San Antonio wasn't extreme, but it wasn't warm either. Temperatures could be around highs of 64°F and lows of 41°F, and that particular day sat somewhere in between.
The sun helped, yes, raising the thermal sensation to something more comfortable, but the wind, especially with the river so close, kept that constant edge that forced you to bundle up.
"It's good to arrive early," Monica said, taking out her phone.
Under normal circumstances, she wouldn't have done it. She was punctual, yes. Ross too. But not to the point of showing up half an hour early. Not without a reason. But this time was different. They had left with plenty of time, with no margin for error.
"At least we'll get more sun," Carol murmured, looking up at the sky with a calm expression.
She wasn't as excited as Monica or Ross. She wasn't a fan of Andrew or football. But she was curious. She had been at the stadium the day before. She had seen people's reaction, the way they talked about him, and the energy he generated.
"Why are you texting?" Chandler asked suddenly, in a faster tone than usual, noticing that Monica was already typing.
Monica stopped and lifted her head to look at him. "I'm going to let Andrew know we arrived," she replied. "He told me to let him know."
"No, no, no!" Chandler blurted out immediately, reacting almost by reflex as he quickly took the phone from her hands.
"Hey!" Monica exclaimed. "Give it back."
Chandler locked the phone and looked at her seriously, as if he had just prevented a critical mistake. "What will Andrew think if you tell him we arrived thirty minutes early?" he said. "We don't want to seem desperate."
Monica opened her mouth to respond, but stayed silent for a second.
She thought about it and, reluctantly, nodded slightly.
"…you're right."
Chandler handed the phone back with a satisfied expression. "Send it five minutes before the agreed time," he added. "That's perfect."
"Fine," Monica said, taking the phone.
Rachel, from beside them, looked at him with a half-smile. "Yeah, sure, because Andrew definitely doesn't already know how much of a fan Monica is."
Chandler tilted his head. "Well… yeah," he admitted, "he already knows that, but not about us."
Ross nodded slowly, as if that logic made sense.
Monica huffed, with little patience to keep that discussion going, and crouched down to open her backpack. She took out a football and held it firmly. "Let's warm up!"
Ross reacted instantly, moving closer, Chandler the same.
Rachel watched them briefly, then simply shook her head. 'They're really taking this seriously just to not look bad in a few simple passes,' she thought.
She carefully settled onto the grass, crossing her legs naturally, while Carol did the same beside her. The tree gave them just the right amount of shade, and from there they had a perfect view of the rest of the park.
At least she had someone to talk to for now.
Finally, two or three minutes before 2:30, Andrew and company appeared in the distance.
Rachel and Carol stood up almost at the same time.
Chandler, for his part, started murmuring to himself, in a low voice, almost like a mantra, "Act casual… I'm relaxed."
It was curious. He was two years older than him, and still felt a certain unavoidable nervousness. He wasn't facing just any stranger. It was someone he had watched for years, followed games, and seen plays. And now he was about to meet him in person.
Even so, he was calmer than he would have been under other circumstances. He knew Andrew had gotten along well with Ross at Comic-Con. If he clicked with Ross, he could probably do it with him too.
"Remember you already met him once, don't act like a crazy person," Rachel whispered in Monica's ear.
Monica barely heard her. She took a deep breath and raised her hand, pointing toward them with a small gesture so they would see them.
Andrew and the others slightly changed direction and began walking toward them, stopping a few steps away.
"Hey, long time," Andrew said, greeting them with a slight smile as he raised his arm.
Ross was the first to react. He stepped forward without hesitation. "Hey, man, congratulations on the game," he said, extending his hand.
Andrew shook it firmly. "Thanks."
His eyes naturally moved toward Monica.
"Hi, Monica, everything good?"
Monica didn't respond. She stayed still. As if the moment had reached her too quickly.
Rachel, beside her, gave her a firm pat on the back.
"Uh… y-yeah! Everything's good!" Monica replied, too quickly.
Even though they had already met before, for her too much time had passed. And her fanaticism, far from decreasing, had grown. Being there, again in front of him, wasn't the same.
Andrew smiled slightly and nodded, without pushing the situation further, as if understanding that the best thing was not to keep talking to her at that moment and let her settle on her own.
His eyes shifted naturally toward the other closest person.
Rachel.
'She came,' Andrew thought.
"Hey, Rachel," he greeted.
Ross and Chandler exchanged a quick look. As if thinking: He remembers her name? It wasn't impossible. They had met before. Not for long, yes, but enough for something to stick.
Rachel, on the other hand, didn't react with surprise.
In fact, if Andrew hadn't remembered her, it probably would have affected her pride, at least a little. They had talked, even exchanged a few messages afterward for a while. It hadn't been anything deep, but it hadn't been nothing either. Not being remembered would have been a small disappointment.
"Hi, Andrew," Rachel replied, without a trace of nervousness, completely natural. "Great game, by the way. That last-second pass… for a moment I thought they were finally going to sack you."
"Thanks," Andrew said.
Then he raised an eyebrow with slight curiosity and asked, "Did you want me to get sacked?"
"No, of course not," Rachel replied, shaking her head. "But I expected at least one. After all, the defensive end who covered you on every drive was Noah Spence, right? He had 20 sacks in his last season, he looked pretty frustrated."
Monica, Chandler, Ross, and Carol turned their heads almost at the same time to look at her, confused.
'What?' they thought.
Since when did Rachel know those things? And how could she have noticed the "frustrated" part, if during the whole game she had been complaining that they were far away and could barely distinguish the players' faces?
Andrew nodded slightly, with a smile that didn't hide a certain surprise.
"That's true, finally someone mentions it," he said. "It's a stat that a lot of people overlook. And it wasn't easy at all."
Noah Spence wasn't a minor name. Five stars, number one at his position in practically every major ranking: ESPN 150, Rivals, and 247Sports, top 10 nationally regardless of position. The best player in the state of Pennsylvania without question. He was also considered a natural pass rusher because of his explosiveness.
His 20 sacks in his senior year weren't just any number. An elite player usually fell between 12 and 18. Reaching 20 wasn't impossible… but it was extremely rare.
And even so, Andrew hadn't been sacked a single time.
Steve, at the side, also looked at Rachel, surprised that a pretty girl would throw out that statistic. "This girl knows football," he said, nodding in approval.
Rachel smiled slightly, naturally, as if it were no big deal. She adjusted her hair with an almost automatic gesture.
'Weird…' Monica thought for a moment, frowning slightly. But she didn't get to dwell on that idea, as Ross spoke.
"She's my girlfriend, Carol," Ross said, stepping aside to introduce her.
Andrew nodded politely. "Nice to meet you."
"Likewise," Carol replied, observing him for a second longer than necessary.
He wasn't what she expected. She had heard how people talked about him, the reaction of the stadium, the fame, and still, in front of her, there was none of that. There was no ego, none of that typical distance of someone in his position. Just someone calm and polite.
Chandler didn't want to wait any longer. He stepped forward and extended his hand.
"Chandler, nice to meet you."
"Hey, " Andrew replied, shaking it. "Bing, right?"
Chandler's eyes widened instantly. "H-how do you know that?" he asked, stuttering slightly.
Andrew smiled, amused by the reaction. "I recognize the creator of my most famous nickname."
"W-what…?" Chandler blinked. "What do you mean?"
Rachel was already smiling.
"Don't play dumb," Monica said, looking at him. "You have it in your Twitter bio. 'Creator of Andrew Pritchett-Tucker's most famous nickname: Jesus Christ of football.'"
Chandler looked at her and pressed his lips together, about to say something, but stopped himself at the last second.
'You're not helping,' he thought.
The nickname was good. Very good, actually. It worked, it was funny, catchy, that's why it had become so popular. Everyone used it on the internet; it had gone more viral than he himself had expected.
But of course, one thing was to say it after a game in a tweet and own it on a social network.
A very different thing was to own up to being the creator in front of the person it had been given to.
Because, no matter how clever it was, it was still a pretty biblical nickname.
And he wasn't entirely sure Andrew would love it.
Ross couldn't help but step in. "Now you act shy?" he said. "You always say it proudly."
"I found out through Rachel, not from your Twitter account," Andrew clarified, still with a half-smile.
Chandler immediately turned and pointed at Rachel. "You!"
"Hey!" Rachel replied, putting her hands on her hips. "You weren't supposed to say that confidential information!"
She said it looking at Andrew, with a mix of complaint and amusement. It didn't really bother her, but she wasn't going to miss the chance to point it out. There was something curious about him remembering that conversation after so long.
To the side, Haley watched everything in silence, curious. 'Did those two talk before?' she thought, shifting her gaze between Rachel and Andrew.
She hadn't known.
"Wait a minute," Steve cut in. "If you created that biblical nickname, you probably also created mine that's been going around recently, right? The Apostle one."
Chandler raised his hands immediately. "No, no, no, no…" he denied, almost instinctively.
But he realized it was useless to hide it, so he ended up sighing. "Well, yes."
Steve smiled. "It's a good nickname. I like it: The Apostle," he said in a solemn tone.
"Which one of the twelve was it?" he added in a normal tone.
"John," Chandler replied.
Steve nodded, thinking about it for a second.
"Steve John Rice…" he tested out loud. "Sounds good."
Before anyone could respond, he turned his head toward Andrew.
"Andrew Jesus Pritchett-Tucker."
There was a small silence, and then laughter.
"That one does sound weird," Haley said, laughing lightly, and the others nodded.
"Can you use Jesus as a name?" Monica asked, already more relaxed than a few minutes ago.
Andrew raised a finger. "According to my grandmother," he said, "yes. In Colombia it's quite common."
By grandmother, of course, he meant Gloria.
The atmosphere finally loosened there.
Andrew took advantage of that moment and, without making it formal or stiff, finished introducing his group. Haley and Steve had already exchanged a few words, so there was no need to repeat much. Besides, Haley already knew Monica and Rachel, which made everything flow even more naturally.
The only one who hadn't said anything until that moment was Luke.
And that, considering it was Luke Dunphy, was already an achievement in itself.
He had been listening and observing the whole time without interrupting. Something almost impossible for him. He was never shy. His energy was constant, exaggerated, and practically at 120% twenty-four hours a day.
But now, at twelve years old, entering that strange stage between childhood and adolescence, there was something that had him completely out of his element.
Girls.
And having Monica, Carol, and Rachel in front of him, older girls, eighteen years old or a little more for Carol, very attractive, was simply too much.
He stayed quiet, more timid than usual, avoiding getting involved more than necessary.
The introductions were completed, and little by little, side conversations began to emerge.
Carol noticed it.
The meeting, which before seemed loaded with expectation, especially from Monica, Chandler, and Ross, turned into something much more normal. As if they weren't in front of someone who had dominated a national game the day before and was the number one YouTuber in the world, but simply at a gathering between two groups of friends who had just met.
'It's strange… he's strange,' she thought, looking at Andrew.
Not for anything negative. Quite the opposite.
For the way he spoke naturally with them. Without distance, without any star-like attitude.
Everyone kept chatting, already completely relaxed, until, after several minutes of conversation without a clear direction, Steve leaned down, picked up the ball that was on the grass, the same one Monica, Ross, and Chandler had been using, and held it.
"Let's play football!" he said. "Maybe a four-on-four. Who's in?"
"Yes, football!" Luke jumped in immediately, getting up in one leap. Until that moment he had been crouched, more entertained watching some ants than in the conversation of people older than him.
"It'll be fun," Rachel added, with an enthusiasm she didn't even try to hide.
"I'll be able to show some skills," Haley said, crossing her arms confidently.
Steve looked at her, squinting. "You don't have skills."
"You don't know that," Haley replied, offended. "You've never seen me play."
"Yes, I have," Steve shot back without hesitation. "And you're not bad for the time you put into it. But don't say you have some hidden ability like you're a video game boss."
Haley scoffed and hit him on the arm. "Shut up."
Rachel, laughing lightly, turned to the others. "Alright, what about you? Do you want to play football?"
Carol nodded, more so as not to be left out than out of real enthusiasm. But Ross and Monica didn't react the way anyone would expect at the chance to play football with Andrew.
They looked at each other in a strange silence until Ross finally spoke.
"Monica and I… we're not supposed to play football together."
Chandler let out an immediate laugh, somewhere between incredulous and amused. "And who says that? Your mom?"
Steve laughed too at his side; he was already starting to really like this guy.
Ross and Monica didn't laugh. They looked at each other again and answered in unison, completely serious:
"Yes."
The group's laughter died instantly.
There was a brief silence. Andrew had his eyes slightly narrowed, recalculating, searching his memory for information.
'Is this…?' he thought.
Monica took a breath and started explaining, with a mix of resignation and pride. "In my family, on Thanksgiving, we used to play football… a tournament we called the Geller Bowl."
"No, no, no," Chandler interrupted, shaking his head. "You say that proudly!"
Monica ignored him, used to Chandler's comments, and continued.
"Ross and I were the captains. And it got way too competitive. Until, one year… in the Geller Cup six… about eight years ago, I accidentally broke his nose," she said, emphasizing the word accident.
Rachel raised her eyebrows, and Haley did the same, sharing that contained look of surprise.
"This was family history I didn't know…" Carol murmured, with a slight smile.
'Yeah, it's definitely that,' Andrew thought, amused.
Luke took a step forward, looking at Ross in disbelief. "A little girl broke your nose?"
"It was not an accident!" Ross burst out, instantly losing his patience, "And yes, she broke it! Because she weighed over a hundred and fifty pounds at ten years old! She had more than forty on me! She was a little tank!"
"Football is a contact sport, accept it," Monica replied, crossing her arms, firm.
"It wasn't!" Ross insisted. "You saw I was going to catch you and you threw your huge arm straight into my face! And you kept running like nothing happened!"
Monica looked at him for a second and then turned to the group to explain. "It was to score the winning touchdown, by the way."
"Wow, wow, wow," Ross interrupted, raising a hand. "You did not win the game! That touchdown didn't count! It was a spectacularly illegal… and savage nose break!"
Monica leaned slightly toward the others, lowering her voice as if sharing a secret. "I won the game."
"Oh, really?" Ross shot back, not backing down. "Then why didn't they give you the Geller Cup?"
There was an immediate reaction. Haley, Andrew, Steve, Rachel, Carol, and Chandler couldn't help but look at each other, surprised by the name, and smile.
Rachel cleared her throat lightly. "Ahem… there was a Geller Cup?"
Ross looked at her completely serious. "Yes. It was the trophy for winning the game," he replied. "In that edition my dad got mad and said no one won."
His voice started to lower. "He got tired of the fights and took the trophy…"
He paused, until he finally concluded, his eyes slightly glossy from the sad memory:
"And he threw it into the lake."
There was a silence.
Rachel brought her hand to her mouth, trying to hold back her laughter without making a sound. Haley outright leaned against Andrew's shoulder, hiding her face, while he tried to keep his composure with a poker expression.
"A shame…" Steve murmured, making a visible effort not to laugh.
"And… was the curse lifted?" Chandler threw in, with a strange expression, halfway between serious and completely absurd.
Ross looked at him without a hint of humor. "And that's why… Mom said we can't play football together."
"You know what?" Monica said suddenly, with a clear change in tone. "I think we should play."
"What?" Ross replied, as if he had just heard the worst idea possible.
The problem had never been football.
The problem was the two of them. They could play separately, sure. With others. In other contexts. But together, on opposing teams, was another story.
They were too competitive.
"Yes, let's play," Monica insisted, with determination. "It's been many years. We're adults now. I don't think we'll go to those extremes."
She wasn't going to miss a possible game with Andrew because of her stupid brother.
Ross looked at her for another second. "Can you come here for a moment?" he finally asked, gesturing with his head.
They stepped aside a few paces, enough to talk in private. Their voices turned into murmurs, barely audible, while Andrew and the rest of the group watched them from a distance.
They kept murmuring until Monica exclaimed, "Wuss!"
Ross fell silent, then looked at everyone. "All right… let's play."
"We're uneven," Haley said, quickly counting the group. There were nine.
There was a brief silence while everyone made the same mental calculation.
"I vote Andrew doesn't play. He should be the referee," Steve said, completely naturally, not caring that he was suggesting leaving his best friend out of the game.
Andrew turned his head toward him, raising an eyebrow. "What? Why can't I play?"
"Dude, you're too broken," Steve replied, as if it were obvious.
He knew him too well. He knew how he competed. It didn't matter if it was an official game or an improvised one in a park. Andrew didn't have a half mode. He had no mercy. Not with strangers, not with friends, with no one. Except for one very specific exception.
Lily.
The only person he could let win without a problem.
It was true that in a more relaxed environment, he wouldn't treat it like a final. But he still wouldn't lose. At the right moment, he did what was necessary to win. Always.
Haley and Luke nodded immediately, completely agreeing. Having him on their team would be an absurd advantage, but if he ended up on the other side, their chances of winning disappeared.
"I can put some restrictions on myself, like in the beach game, remember?" Andrew said, looking at Haley, Monica, and Rachel.
That day he had played with his left hand, his non-dominant one, and with one foot always hopping.
"Sorry, but no," Steve replied, shaking his head. "You used your left hand in the playoffs with hundreds of thousands of people watching you and it worked."
"I demand a vote," Andrew said, not intending to be left out.
He looked directly at Monica.
Monica hesitated for just a second, then shook her head with an apologetic expression. "Sorry, but it's true. That day at the beach you still beat us, and that was two years ago. Now you're much better. If you're not on my team… I'm going to lose."
It was clear she didn't like saying it. She would have loved to play with him. But this, now, was also personal with Ross, she had called him a coward. She couldn't take the risk.
Ross nodded, backing the decision. Haley and Luke had already given their vote before the discussion had even started.
Andrew turned his head toward Carol. "Seeing you play yesterday…" she said calmly, "if I go up against you, I know I'm not going to win. I'm sorry. And even though I'm not a fan of the sport, I like to win."
Andrew sighed softly and looked at Chandler.
"I'm a mortal," Chandler said, completely serious. "I can't face my God and pretend to defeat him, even if I know I'm going to lose."
Andrew smiled slightly, amused that he was already moving so naturally within the jokes.
Then he looked at Rachel. His last chance.
Rachel held his gaze for a second, not rushing, and then slightly looked away. "What I say won't change anything."
Andrew nodded, accepting the logic without insisting further. Even if she said yes, that he should play, the result wouldn't change. It would be one against seven.
"Fine, I'll be the referee," Andrew muttered, finally accepting the decision.
"We have to choose captains," Haley said, as everyone settled into a small circle. "How do we decide it?"
"Well…" Monica started, opening her arms, "…why don't we just bunny up?"
"What?" everyone asked at the same time, not understanding what she meant.
But Monica and Ross didn't give an explanation and spoke at the same time.
"Bunny!" they exclaimed.
Both of them brought their hands to their heads, raising two fingers on each hand like bunny ears, right above.
There was silence as everyone looked at each other, as if thinking that's what they meant by bunny up. The Gellers really did have strange traditions.
No one questioned it much. They simply accepted that they were the captains.
Monica had said bunny just a fraction of a second earlier, enough to claim the first pick without discussion.
"Steve," she chose without hesitation.
"Monica… I'm your best friend," Rachel said, surprised she hadn't been the first pick.
"Sorry… next one," Monica murmured, lying a little, more than anyone, she knew how bad Rachel was at catching passes.
"Hey, Steve is too good as well, we need to adjust that," Ross said.
Monica didn't mock him for already starting to make excuses. Because he was right.
Steve was also an elite player. Four-star, coming off a great game the day before. They couldn't leave him free without restrictions. So, together, they agreed on certain conditions to keep things fair.
Steve accepted, he didn't want to be left out like Andrew.
The rest of the picks took shape quickly.
Ross chose Luke first, which triggered an immediate reaction from Chandler, who didn't hide his indignation. But Ross had his logic: Luke was the cousin of the best quarterback prospect in the country. Energy, instinct… he had to have something.
In the end, the teams were set.
Monica's team: Steve, Haley, and Rachel.
Ross's team: Luke, Chandler, and Carol.
Rachel ended up being the last pick, which made her a bit grumpy, something that amused Andrew, although he hid it so as not to annoy her more.
They decided to play in a sort of 7-on-7 format, adapted to their number and with some changes. No tackling, and no heavy contact. There was no real running game.
You couldn't just hand the ball off to advance. That didn't count as a pass. The ball had to travel forward, no matter what.
The play was stopped by touching the opponent with a hand.
The game began. They decided to play four quarters of ten minutes, with a seriousness that bordered on absurd for a game in a park that was supposed to be casual, but completely logical considering Monica and Ross.
They marked the field as best they could. Using backpacks, jackets, and sweatshirts. It wasn't perfect, but it was enough. There were clear boundaries, end zones, and, above all, rules.
Andrew was the referee during the first two quarters. More for formality than necessity. It was entertaining at first, but it quickly became clear that it didn't make much difference. Ross and Monica argued every play at the limit, as if they were in a real final, and they weren't exactly the type of players who listened much to a neutral authority.
Rachel, on the other hand, ended up in a completely different position.
Frustrated. Not truly angry, but close.
At first, both Steve and Monica, who rotated as quarterbacks, tried to include her. A couple of simple routes, short passes, nothing complicated.
She didn't catch any.
Not a single one. It was almost statistically an anomaly.
And each failure started to weigh more as the game became competitive. Little by little, without saying it directly, they stopped looking for her. The instruction Monica gave her was reduced to the basics:
Just run. But they never threw her the ball.
By the third quarter, after a brief tactical break, the game was tied.
Andrew was now watching from a more distant spot, no longer needing to act as referee. The game had taken on a life of its own. Ross and Monica were completely into it.
'If they were athletes, they'd have a higher level of competitiveness than many real players,' Andrew thought with a slight smile.
Then he noticed Rachel approaching him.
"Aren't you playing?" Andrew asked, arms crossed, while watching a play develop.
The most striking thing was that Rachel's team didn't even seem to notice her absence.
"My team doesn't pass to me," Rachel huffed, crossing her arms. "And the other team doesn't even cover me. It's the same thing. Besides, I'm a bit hungry."
Andrew looked at her for a second. "Do you want to go buy something to eat?"
Rachel raised an eyebrow. "And your referee job?"
Andrew briefly glanced toward the field, where no one seemed to pay attention to anything that wasn't the ball.
"Do you think that if they don't care that one of their players is out… they care whether the referee is there or not?"
Rachel nodded. "Good point. Let's go."
Both of them started walking, moving away from the field, following the park's stone paths.