Tom Sileo (6 page)

Army and Navy roared onto the field led by huge American flags. Navy SEAL and Army paratroopers, also with US flags in tow, glided onto the field's artificial turf with Army and Navy parachutes. The Navy and Army team captains then stood at midfield with President Bush for the coin toss, as chants of “U-S-A!” filled the stadium.

With visibly cold air billowing from his mouth, Brendan, who wore number 37, soaked in the atmosphere from the sideline while looking up at the stands. Standing next to J. P. Blecksmith, a wide receiver and backup quarterback, Brendan listened to a stirring rendition of the national anthem while looking up at the massive group of uniformed midshipmen, which included many of his friends.

Army won the game, 26–17. But for one day, a stadium full of more than sixty-five thousand screaming fans was united, as was much of the country.

“There's never been a game, ever—including the eight Super Bowls that I've called—there's never been a game more important than calling that Army-Navy game,” legendary broadcaster Dick Enberg, who handled play-by-play announcing for
CBS Sports that day, later said.

In 2002, as the war in Afghanistan continued and talk of another war in Iraq intensified, Travis and Brendan, who were now roommates, understood the significance of the times they were living in. They also knew how to have fun.

Andrew Hemminger was one of Travis's wrestling teammates. He had known Brendan since their plebe year. When his two buddies became roommates, goofing off in their room became one of Hemminger's favorite activities. He was entertained not only by Brendan and Travis's shared sense of humor, but also by their epic video game showdowns in Madden football and Tiger Woods golf.

When Travis beat Brendan, Brendan would sit quietly and steam for the next few hours until Travis wanted to play again. When Brendan beat Travis, Travis would bother him incessantly until Brendan finally granted his request for a rematch. What impressed Hemminger the most, however, was how quickly the roommates could refocus when it was time to be serious.

During a summer fishing trip to North Carolina's Outer Banks, Hemminger and his brother, Dan, were with Brendan and several friends when the booze began to flow on the eve of their boat excursion. As more and more drinks were consumed, several of the guys began arguing over who would catch the biggest fish when they went out on the water the next morning.

Numerous friends offered Brendan drinks as he sat quietly amid the increasingly boisterous festivities. Brendan, sporting his customary smirk, politely declined.

“Are you sure you guys want to keep drinking?” Brendan cautioned the group, who carried on for several more hours despite his warning.

The next morning, in the boat out on choppy waters, Brendan shook his head as the Hemminger brothers and everyone else draped themselves over the sides of the vessel. Hung over and seasick, they were throwing up while Brendan adjusted his fishing rod.

“Remind me again who's going to catch the biggest fish?” Brendan asked with a grin.

Though Brendan was in the best condition that morning, he wasn't really concerned about catching the biggest fish. Instead, he sat in the boat and shared laughs with his nauseated friends, making sure they rehydrated after vomiting for most of the morning.

During a subsequent trip to Colorado Springs, the Hemminger brothers were with Travis when their wrestling coach challenged them to a grueling 12½-mile trail hike to the top of Pikes Peak. Naturally the athletes turned the climb into a fierce competition that Travis was determined to win.

After the Hemmingers, Travis, and their teammates separated into respective groups of three, they didn't encounter each other again until they were just steps from the mountain's summit. Travis had indeed beaten the Hemmingers there, but the biggest member of his group, heavyweight wrestler Steve Kovach, was struggling to breathe after several hours of climbing through the thin Rocky Mountain air.

Travis wanted to reach the gigantic mountain's soaring peak first. But upon seeing his teammate's condition, he set the competition aside.

“I'm going to head back down with Stevie,” Travis said.

By the time Travis had helped Kovach almost twelve miles down the Pikes Peak trail, it was clear to everyone what he was all about. Travis wanted to win, but like Brendan, his friends came first.

During most of their time in Annapolis, Travis and Brendan shared another trait. As red-blooded American college kids, they wanted to meet as many beautiful women as possible. Travis was often popular with the ladies and would usually return from a night
at the bars with at least one new phone number. In one memorable case, his charm extended into the classroom, when Travis managed to put a female professor in a better mood during a disastrous presentation by one of his friends.

As his buddy Myles McAllister stumbled through the assignment, Travis sat in the back of the classroom, laughing hysterically and smirking at the instructor. While smiling back at Travis and chuckling at his antics, her attention was diverted from McAllister's cringe-inducing performance.

“You really saved my ass in there,” McAllister said as they laughed about the presentation after class.

“I have to admit, that was the worst presentation I've ever seen,” a smiling Travis said while reassuring McAllister that he would probably receive a passing grade. “You'll be fine. . . . I think that teacher's got a crush on me.”

Travis's friend did in fact receive a passing grade from the teacher.

Though Brendan had a similar effect on the women of Annapolis, he was usually more reserved in classroom and social settings. That all changed on Memorial Day weekend in 2003.

With the country now at war in Iraq, on that Sunday Brendan, a Naval Academy junior, was driving back from the Jersey Shore, where he had met up with some high school buddies. He was heading to Baltimore to hang out with a large group of DeMatha friends at Fell's Point, a quaint, popular area of waterfront shops, restaurants, and bars that bore a striking resemblance to Annapolis.

As Brendan walked into The Greene Turtle sports bar to greet his buddies, his gaze wandered to a large table, where a gorgeous blonde was sitting with mutual friends near a wall covered with Baltimore Orioles and Ravens memorabilia. She was sipping a margarita, nodding and smiling as one of her friends told a funny story.

Brendan couldn't get over her big brown eyes. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

“Go talk to her,” said Ryan Gillis, who had noticed Brendan staring.

“No way,” Brendan said. “She's way too hot. . . . I'd have no chance.”

“Fine,” Gillis, now a football player at Notre Dame, remarked as several at the table, including the young woman Brendan was admiring, got up and moved to the dance floor. “I'll go dance with her then.”

Gillis, who openly admitted to being a terrible dancer, headed out to the dance floor in order to motivate his reluctant friend, much as Brendan had once inspired him to keep busting his tail during long “two-a-day” high school football practices.

“Dude, seriously, she's still looking over here,” another friend said to Brendan as Gillis made the woman's friends laugh with some truly terrible dance moves.

Brendan quickly changed the subject and started talking about the recent return of Hall of Fame coach Joe Gibbs to his beloved Washington Redskins. But after a few minutes of guy talk, about five friends gave the imposing, nearly six-foot-tall midshipman an ultimatum.

“Go talk to that girl, or we're all going to kick your ass,” one friend said.

Gillis returned from the dance floor just in time to hear the challenge.

“Are we still talking about this?” asked Gillis, out of breath from dancing. “Looney, I mean it this time, if you don't go over there I really will dance with her.” He smiled. “So it looks like you have two choices. One, you go talk to her; two, I go dance with her and on top of it, we all punch you in the face.”

Responding with his customary smirk, Brendan took a deep breath as he walked toward the radiant blonde and her group of friends, who were dancing in an open area near the bar. As the setting sun reflected off the Baltimore Harbor outside the front
window, Brendan took a gulp of beer and walked over to introduce himself.

Just as he was about to say hello, one of his friends, who was already drunk, pushed him right into the middle of the group, causing him to bump into the young woman he had been admiring since walking in the door.

“I'm really sorry,” Brendan said.

“That's okay,” she said with a laugh. “I'm Amy.”

“Brendan,” he said, extending his hand.

After spending the next minute or two dancing, Amy Hastings, who could tell this good-looking guy liked her but was hesitant, finally broke the ice.

“Do you play football?” she said.

Brendan, who was two hundred pounds of pure muscle with a white “Navy Athletics” hat on top, certainly looked the part of a college football star.

“I actually just started playing lacrosse,” he said. “I was on the football team my freshman and sophomore year. I only started playing lacrosse a year ago, but I love it. My brothers have been playing for years.”

What instantly struck Amy was not which sport Brendan played, but his commanding presence and the sincerity with which he spoke. She was attracted to him.

Brendan and Amy went over to the bar, where he bought her another drink and asked where she was from. Amy told him about growing up in Delaware before moving south to Maryland, where she was currently attending Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore. Both Brendan and Amy smiled when they realized that their respective high schools, Archbishop Spalding in Severn and DeMatha in Hyattsville, were less than thirty miles apart.

Amy had grown up watching her mother juggle a full-time job and a single-parent home, whereas Brendan came from a family of two happily married parents and five siblings. But even after the minor contrast surfaced, Amy and Brendan quickly realized they
had much in common. They both loved their families and friends; they had attended local high schools; and they shared many of the same values, goals, and dreams. With Brendan at Navy and Amy at Johns Hopkins, they knew they both possessed the strong work ethic required to succeed at academically rigorous institutions.

While continuing to talk, Brendan and Amy decided to play the popular “Golden Tee” video game. Brendan may have been one of the most competitive people on the planet, but if there was ever a time to let someone else win, this was it.

Before the game was over, Brendan glanced over toward his buddies, who were psyched to see him hitting it off with such a beautiful girl.

“Gentlemen, I propose a toast,” Gillis said to some of Brendan's closest high school friends. “I think we just did a good thing.”

Brendan smiled in their direction before turning back to the young lady he could already tell was special. After exchanging more pleasantries, Amy said that she should probably get back to her friends. If Brendan didn't speak up, he would probably never see her again.

As Amy picked up her purse and headed back over to the dance floor, Brendan channeled all his willpower to say five words.

“Can I get your number?” he asked.

“Sure,” Amy replied, relieved that he had asked.

Amy and Brendan flipped their respective cell phones open and saved each other's numbers. She then gave him a quick hug and said good-bye.

Afraid of appearing overly anxious, and perhaps inspired by the dating advice Vince Vaughn gave Jon Favreau in the 1996 cult movie
Swingers
, Brendan waited three days before calling Amy, who lived about a half hour away in Columbia, Maryland. Despite being surprised and slightly annoyed by the seventy-two-hour wait, Amy gave Brendan a chance to redeem himself on their first date. He succeeded, and after a few short months, the young couple were inseparable.

On November 26, 2003, Amy got a Hallmark card in the mail, postmarked from Annapolis:

          
Amy,

                
Hard to believe that 6 months ago we met. Time has really flown by. I guess the saying is right, the last 6 months have been the best I have ever had. I would not trade a single day for anything in the universe. You truly have made me a better person and given me a lot. I am excited for the next 6 months, a lot will be changing, but with you there it will not be as bad. I love you with all my heart sweet heart and can't wait to see what is in our future.

          
Love ya!

          
Brendan

Amy had already met Travis, Brendan's funny, likable roommate, who always seemed to be wearing an Eagles hat and telling her new boyfriend that the Redskins were lousy. She also went along with Brendan and Travis for what was supposed to be a three-mile jog, until the roommates started challenging each other to keep going.

After jogging more than twelve miles—nearly a half-marathon—Amy convinced them to turn around. Whether it was NFL football, video games, or running, everything was a competition for Brendan and Travis.