Chapter Text
TRANSCRIPT OF JOE BURROW PRESS CONFERENCE 08/22/2025
{6:11}
HARVEY MULLINS (AP): Hi, Joe!
JOE BURROW: Hello!
*LAUGHTER*
JOE BURROW: Wow. That got a reaction.
HARVEY MULLINS (AP): You’re sounding very chipper today, that’s all. Good practice?
JOE BURROW: Always.
HARVEY MULLINS (AP): Excellent. Great to hear. On that note, with kind of training camp and preseason all drawing to a close, how are you feeling about this team’s level of preparation? Is this team ready for the regular season?
JOE BURROW: I would say we are. I think our preseason performance, our record, all of that shows that we are. Two wins, hopefully a third in a few days. The guys in the locker room all do all the right things day in and day out. And, uh… everyone wants to be that guy that makes the difference, so… Yeah, I feel great about where we are.
ROBERT WHITTIER (ESPN): Joe, forgive me for the question, but you know this is on everyone’s minds. The last three years, the Bengals have missed the playoffs. From a franchise quarterback standpoint, from a career standpoint, how much pressure do you feel to bring it all home this season? Is it this season or, maybe, something drastic has to happen?
JOE BURROW: *pause* I—
ROBERT WHITTIER (ESPN): In other words, how many good years are left here?
JOE BURROW: I don’t think of it that way. I—I think I’ve learned… Over the last few years… I mean, the goal is always the Super Bowl. The goal of every season I play football is the Super Bowl. But… I’ve learned not to think of it that way. I’m living what I, you know, always dreamed that I would. Growing up. What so many guys dream of growing up. So, I do what I need to do every day to make sure I’m at the top of my game, and I expect the same in our guys.
SERENA GALLAGHER (THE ATHLETIC): Joe, along those lines of pressure and expectation for this year, how have they compared to previous years? Have you learned ways to cope?
JOE BURROW: I feel it. Of course, I feel it. But… Every year I have the same expectation, and every year is different and has different challenges. Part of coping with that is, like I’ve said, doing everything in my control that I can to make sure I’m prepared week to week.
SERENA GALLAGHER (THE ATHLETIC): What’s been the biggest challenge so far in this season?
JOE BURROW: Uh… This year… I feel great physically. I’ve had a healthy training camp, I feel strong, I feel like I’m carrying on the success of last year that we had. Especially at the end. The challenge is, I guess… Continuing to lead. Being a vocal captain. Pass on what I know to the younger guys.
SERENA GALLAGHER (THE ATHLETIC): Do you think you’ve made an impact so far on younger teammates? Like Alex Lassiter?
JOE BURROW: I’d like to think so. I mean, they’re all great players. Great people. I’d like to think that Alex—Or. Lassiter. Uh. That he’ll reach his potential faster… With… Everything we’ve shared. Together.
*********
The main ballroom of The Cincinnatian is buzzing with life the night before the Bengals take on the Colts in their final preseason face-off. The line for dinner has almost died down, and the anticipation for their team-bonding activity is growing as everyone takes a seat. “Which Coach Said It?” Kahoot is on the huge projector screen at the front of the room.
Alex is elbow-to-elbow between R and Andrei Iosivas, with Tinsley, Gesicki, Sample, and DJ Turner fanned out around them. Burrow, Chase, and Higgins are at the front together like the night’s VIPs. R types out his nickname, “rabblerouser69,” and then grabs Alex’s phone out of his hand to change his name from “sassylassy35” to “sassiestlassiest69.” Their icons dance on the screen, waiting for the game to begin next to “jamarrchase10.” Original.
This week of practice has felt like it dragged on for years. Alex is the only fool who’s gotten hurt this early, so he’s been stuck with Mathis’ full attention. He’s tried not to get frustrated. He really has. Mathis did Alex and R a solid by giving them a warning for almost missing the buses in Chicago, but having his full attention is… Intense. Having Daniels’ full attention might not be as bad. Which reminds him, when rosters come out next week, he needs to check for Nichols’ name and congratulate him. And thank him for being the only reason he didn’t have Daniels’ full attention all summer. He should get a fruit basket for that.
If that weren’t enough, things with Joe are the same. Between their respective fields, in offensive meetings, in the locker room, it’s shared space, but nothing else. The most surreal part of it all is how much has changed to bring them here. The way Alex’s palms used to sweat sitting next to him. How he’d angle the camera on late-night calls to look his best. How he worried about the way Joe would see him. His palms still sweat, but not out of fear or respect alone. Joe doesn’t care if Alex looks his best; he’s seen blood all over him and wanted him. He knows how Joe sees him. With annoyance, with care, with frustration, with… lust.
That image of the capable teammate is shattered beyond repair. And yet, Joe is at the front of the room. Carrying on at the front of the room, on top of the world. Joe is what he is. Alex could take away from the pressure he carries, rather than add to it. Alex will say no to him tonight. He’s sat on it too long anyway.
“Alright!” Coach Taylor’s voice carries through the large, square room. “Let’s get started! Everyone logged in?”
The room answers with a cacophony of yeses and raised thumbs.
“K. Thanks, guys! We’ll get started here! Be nice to your coaching staff!”
That sets the room off with nondescript rumbling. Some nods, some cringing, some raised eyebrows. Regardless, everyone has their phones in hand and ready.
The first quote pops up, “Man… If I was you.”
“That one’s too easy!” R screeches, almost sending his phone across the table with how fast he’s trying to vote.
Mathis is waving off the jeers of the room. It is too easy because all but two people vote that it’s his go-to quote.
R stands up and screams, “Man, if I was you—” then puts his hand to his ear to get the room to answer.
“I’d be so out there!” Alex yells back, even with his protesting ribs.
Next is, “If you can’t identify the coverage pre-snap, then congratulations, you’re about to get some cardio.” That has to be Casey. Alex doesn’t remember that one coming out of his mouth, but it’s just the right kind of sarcastic and shitty. When Alex’s eyes flicker Casey’s way, he pops his middle finger up for a split second. Alex gets that one right, but Ja’Marr is at the top of the leaderboard for his speed.
“Honestly? I don’t remember calling that play.”
“These are too easy!” Ja’Marr’s voice rises over the crowd. “We need extreme difficulty!”
R is bouncing in frustration in his seat because Ja’Marr still got the answer in before him. and that’s the coach that R works with every day. Coach Lyons.
“That’s Bengals football, guys.”
That sets the room detonating with laughter. A quote that says everything and nothing at the same time. That could be inspiring, but it’s too bland to make it. Coach Taylor’s face is vibrant red where he’s leaned up against the fire exit. Joe has his hand over his face to hide the smile. Ja’Marr is bent over in his chair with the win locked up. R tossed his phone on the table and cracked his screen protector.
Alex tells himself to take another mental picture of this moment. The sights of his teammates laughing in their seats or gesturing wildly at each other, the smiles on their coaches’ faces. The sounds of their deafening laughter. The peace of knowing he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be. Bonding with each of these guys before they go to war together again.
Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Can be allowed to endanger that. Alex jostles R’s shoulder to make him smile again, sending pain shooting all through his torso.
*********
Slavon is Alex’s roommate yet again. No one found out about the almost second punch, so this is a sick running joke with the coaching staff at this point. Or maybe they want them to rub off on each other. A little bit of discipline exchanged for a little bit of levity. Mathis has been on the Bengals staff for years for a reason. Allegedly.
Alex pulls his used copy of The Iliad out of his duffel bag. Slavon is gagging in the bathroom with his toothbrush. It’s easy to miss Joe in moments like this. They spend every single day in each other’s orbit. Around the same guys, sharing the same notes, the same inside jokes, but it’s never enough. Nothing but holding his hand and connecting with him is enough. Shit. That might not be either. But now, sharing a room with the resident ogre and without Joe’s voice reading to him, it makes Alex feel hollowed out. He would’ve asked to switch for R again, but Mitchell would think R doesn’t want to room with him, and that isn’t true.
This could be a good opportunity to ask Slavon about how he stays so focused. How he’s gotten over his… frustrations… with Alex to keep improving his game. Getting beaten down by the defensive staff at training camp has only made him more valuable. He’s been rewarded for it with playing time. No one even knows the name of his mystery girlfriend.
Alex runs his fingers along the edge of the pages while he waits for Slavon to reemerge. When he does with a disgusting, phlegmy snort, Alex grimaces.
“So—” Alex starts.
Slavon flops onto his bed with a growl. “What?”
“What the fuck? I didn’t even say anything yet.”
“You always have to say something,” Slavon groans, throwing his arms over his face. “Holy shit. It’s always something.”
Alex gingerly sits back against his own headboard, propping himself up at an angle that doesn’t hurt his ribs too much, and fixes Slavon with a glare. It doesn’t matter because Slavon is rubbing his eyes like he’s trying to rub a headache out of them.
“Well, if you had given me a chance, I was going to give you a fucking compliment and ask for some advice.”
“I don’t need it, Lassiter. We both know what we think of each other. You think I’m an idiot. I think you’re an idiot. What now?”
“Last time we roomed together, I gave you a compliment then, too. Remember? I said that I’m glad you’re here, and I couldn’t imagine this draft class any different. You never said anything nice to me after that, and I’m still trying to give you another one.”
“Fine,” Slavon sighs. “I did something nice instead of saying something nice by giving you those meds, but whatever. Tell me and get it over with.”
Alex readjusts to sit higher up on the headboard. Keep your muscles completely relaxed. Lie back and breathe. I’ll get you there. Alex grimaces again and stutters, “So. I was going to tell you that I’ve been impressed by your focus. Especially since we—Well. Since we started training with Mathis more. You’ve been really locked on, and it’s showing. And… We both said before that it’s amazing that R can not care so much. Now it seems like you can, too. How did that happen?”
Slavon lets his arms fall heavily onto the bed. When he glances over at Alex, he finds nothing but openness and honesty in it. Slavon looks like he’s flipping through the different responses he could have.
“I’m serious,” Alex clarifies. His voice comes out almost desperate. But there is something that Slavon’s found that he needs. R isn’t as impenetrable as Alex thought he was.
“I’ve thought a lot about what happened since then. With me and you,” Slavon starts slowly. He has to look back at the ceiling when he sees Alex earnestly listening. “I still feel the same way about all of it. That I need to have something to bring home to my family and to Notre Dame, that the way I've prepared myself for this and played my game has been the right way, and that you take up so much time and energy from everyone that you don’t deserve.”
Slavon braces and looks back at Alex, waiting for his defense. It doesn’t come. When Alex first let Slavon get away with saying that, it was to be the bigger man. Now, part of him agrees.
Slavon continues, “But this is the chance that I have. The only chance. I can’t compare myself to anyone back home who didn’t make it here. I can’t compare myself to R because he doesn’t handle anything in fucking life like I would—”
“Yeah, because R isn’t a fucking asshole,” Alex cuts in. He can’t help himself. The image of Slavon shoving R away by his facemask will never be removed from Alex’s mind, whether R forgave him or not.
“Hey, dipshit! If you want me to answer your question, don’t fucking insult me.”
Alex puts his hands up in half-hearted surrender.
Slavon’s volume climbs with the rest of his answer, “I can’t compare myself to you, either. Because no one will love you for being the first rounder forever. What I told you before is still completely true. You don’t care about the fundamentals that you need to succeed, and you’ll fall off the second people get sick of seeing your face all over the city. While I prepare and show up and do what I need to do, I’ll get what I deserve. If it’s in year three or year four here, so be it. The bigger they are, the harder they fucking fall, Lassiter.”
Alex takes a deep breath and stares ahead at their television. The black screen reflects to him. Tousled dark curls, small frown on his lips, brown skin giving way to darker bruising. Both men sit in silence, turning over what they’ve said and heard in their minds.
“That didn’t answer my question, dude,” Alex says quietly. “That’s still caring. How do I not care? How do I stop that from happening?”
Slavon readjusts himself on his bed, blankets rustling around him. “The point is, it’s all still the same. I guess you’re right. I do care. But I can’t go anywhere else or do anything else. I’m a football player. I’m on the Bengals with you. I can’t waste the opportunity because it isn’t everything I wanted. I eat right, I sleep right, and I play my fucking game. Fuck anyone else, including you.”
Alex nods. Staring straight ahead, all he can think is that he was right before. On two things. Slavon is an asshole, and Alex can’t imagine this draft class any different. Alex could never think like that. The people around him are too important to him. The family he supports, but the team, too. Being out for only himself wouldn’t motivate Alex to be great. Sure, he poses for the cameras and shows off more than he should sometimes, but the Lombardi will never have his name alone engraved on it. At the same time, Slavon is a check on reality. It isn’t all in Alex’s head that failure is imminent. It’s real for every single one of them. Slavon knows it and plans for it.
“I’m not saying I want that to happen,” Slavon says to the now long silence between them. “I’m saying I do everything that I can to be a great. You could too if you got your head out of your ass.”
Alex huffs out a laugh, then gasps in pain. “My coach at home always says that to me,” he grits.
“Smart guy.”
“For the record, I still feel the same about you, too. I’m glad you’re in our draft class. But I think you’re hiding a big fat inferiority complex, and you’re really the selfish one. Not me.”
Slavon lets out another scoff from his side of the bed. “What a fucking joke.”
Alex adds, “Orlando Brown told me at training camp that I should be honest with my teammates about how I feel about them. Because it’ll be a long season, and it’ll seem that much longer if I can’t be honest. If we don’t have anything else, I’m glad we can do that.”
“Yeah. Whatever. As long as you never ask to borrow my shit again.”
Alex rolls his eyes. Slavon grabs his noise-cancelling headphones off his nightstand and rolls onto his side to scroll on his phone. That leaves Alex alone with The Iliad. He lifts himself on the tips of his fingers to reach for it where it sits next to his calves on the bed. He opens the first worn, yellowed pages to start reading.
“Goddess, sing me the anger of Achilles, Peleus’ son, that fatal anger that brought countless sorrows on the Greeks, and sent many valiant souls of warriors down to Hades—”
Alex’s eyes run over the words without grasping them. Once, then back, over, then back again. The small, black typeface might as well be another language. What would Joe think of Slavon’s words? He does scramble around the facility, cleaning up Alex’s messes like he’s right on the precipice. Like Joe’s hand is outstretched, and Alex could drag him back over the rocks with him. Alex pulls his phone out of his pocket.
8:58pm Alex Lassiter: Do you think I still have time to do things better?
Alex sucks his lower lip between his teeth. Joe has to be sprawled out on his bed reading, too. He likes things quiet and focused before a game. Even if he isn’t taking a snap, he’s always present like another coach on their sideline. Hopefully, he glances at his phone.
9:00pm Joe Burrow: You haven’t started. Even when you do things wrong later you’ll have time to fix them.
9:00pm Joe Burrow: None of this is printed in an old book yet
Alex smiles softly to himself. He was right. The same book is in his hands right now. Probably dressed the same. Shirtless with sweatpants low on his hips.
9:02pm Joe Burrow: All you have to do right now is relax and heal
That’s so much easier said than done. Tomorrow night, he’ll sit uselessly on the bench and watch his team play. He’s taken all of the steroid shots and done every stupid trunk strength exercise that Mathis has asked, but relaxation seems impossible. Especially when the person he turns to most for comfort has this chasm of a question separating him from Alex. Alex types and deletes. I can’t do this. Then, I wish you’d gotten to me first. Then, tell me I’m good enough.
9:04pm Alex Lassiter: You said you’d read to me.
Joe starts typing a few times. Alex starts to get concerned after a few minutes.
9:13pm Joe Burrow: My door is always open for anything. I just want you to spend more time thinking about it before you knock. I want you to be sure.
That knocks the wind out of Alex. His breath hitches and catches in his throat, ending in a few agonizing coughs. Slavon’s headphones work because he doesn’t roll over to glare.
9:14pm Alex Lassiter: You said you would. That’s all.
9:14pm Joe Burrow: I did. I would. But we both know how I’ve been looking at you.
9:14pm Joe Burrow: I’ll stop if you make me. But you haven’t. It’s torture like this.
Alex feels glued to this spot in his bed. Eyes wide, heart hammering so hard he can see it cresting and falling under his skin. Joe is in the same spot. Book in his lap and staring at his screen, waiting for Alex. Wanting Alex. He digs the edge of his phone in underneath his nail.
9:15pm Alex Lassiter: Would you still touch me the same? Like before? I want you to hold my hand. No one else does that.
9:15pm Joe Burrow: Yes. Of course I would. I need you with me.
9:15pm Joe Burrow: But don’t act like you don’t know what would happen if you came up here right now. We’d both play innocent and I’d read you the first page with your head in my lap and my hand on your hip and we’d want each other. I’d fucking kiss you again. Zac is in the room right next to mine and I’d have to hold my hand over your mouth while I touch you so he doesn’t know.
9:15pm Joe Burrow: That won’t help you know any better if you want this with me or not. It’ll make it worse.
9:16pm Joe Burrow: Think about it more and then tell me what you want
Alex’s heartbeat thumps hard in his ears. He balls his fist up into his blanket to ground himself. Half-hard at Joe’s words, he rolls over onto his side to hide the reaction from Slavon. Gross. Slavon. Knowing he’s so close cools the heat between Alex’s hips. Joe is right. They haven’t been alone together since. Since Alex admitted he wanted it, kicked him out, and asked someone else out. Someone he can be seen with. Someone the world would accept. Someone he could want if it weren’t for—
9:16pm Alex Lassiter: I wanted it. I want it again now. Fuck. Don’t ever think that I haven’t. That I don’t.
9:17pm Joe Burrow: Then tell me. Don’t lie to me anymore. I need to be able to give myself to you and enjoy it or force myself to be what I should be to you.
9:17pm Alex Lassiter: I know I’ve been a nightmare to mentor
9:18pm Joe Burrow: I don’t want anyone else.
A lump forms in Alex’s throat, and he draws his knees up closer to his chest. Slavon is more right than he knows. Alex doesn’t deserve any of it. This, least of all. Alex can do what Joe asked, at least.
9:20pm Alex Lassiter: I’ll tell you when I’m sure
9:20pm Joe Burrow: Thank you
Alex steadies his breathing and closes his eyes, suddenly heavy from the flood of emotion coursing through him. Slavon rolls over to turn off their lights without asking if Alex is ready. His phone flashes one more time in the light.
9:28pm Joe Burrow: *Audio Message 7:32 Preview: Goddess, sing me the anger of Achilles, Peleus’ son, that fatal anger…*