Tom Sileo by Brothers Forever Page B

crescendo of patriotism swept the stadium, with Travis cheering as his roommate tore onto the field with his hands raised proudly toward the cloud-filled sky.
    Rain pelted down on the grassy turf as the game went back and forth. Brendan and other Navy defensemen were focused on Syracuse’s Michael Powell, one of the greatest attack men in NCAA lacrosse history and the only player to ever win the Tewaaraton Trophy—similar to college football’s Heisman Trophy—twice. For Navy to have any chance of defeating the Orange, its defensemen, including Morris, Brendan, and other midshipmen, would have to contain Powell.
    The crowd was in a frenzy as a goal by Navy’s Ben Bailey gave the Midshipmen the early lead, with more “U-S-A” refrains replacing the stadium’s usual chant of “Let’s Go Ravens.” Travis, who had played lacrosse in high school and later at Drexel, had closely followed his roommate’s team all season.
    Brendan was playing his heart out, as always, but there was a reason Syracuse had won two out of the past four national championships. After tying the score with five minutes to play, the Orange took the lead ninety seconds later, resulting in a nervous hush throughout most of the stadium. It didn’t help that Russell, Navy’s starting goalie, was forced to leave the game because of a collarbone injury.
    Syracuse had a 13–12 lead with 1:05 left when its most dangerous player, Powell, darted like a missile toward Navy’s backupgoalie. Brendan closed his eyes as the ball hit the back of the net, giving Syracuse a two-goal lead with a minute to play.
    â€œShit,” Travis said to a fellow midshipman in the stands.
    Though Navy followed with a goal, Syracuse won its third championship in five years and eighth overall title.
    Brendan was absolutely crushed by the 14–13 defeat. This was supposed to be Navy’s day. It would take some time for the loss to sink in, but Brendan, who had just played his final collegiate game, and everyone associated with the Navy program knew deep down that the team’s improbable Final Four run had been a truly amazing feat.
    â€œWhat a game and what a crowd,” Tom Manion said after the game, as Janet nodded in agreement. “That’s the kind of thing that really makes you proud to be an American.”
    Travis, Amy, Brendan, and Steve were supposed to be having a victory celebration that night at the second home the Manions owned in Annapolis, where they would often hang out on weekends, before heading out to McGarvey’s, O’Brien’s, and their other favorite downtown bars. But even after a devastating defeat, there was still something to be happy about. The US Naval Academy class of 2004 had just graduated.
    With a light mist falling, music blared through the Manion house as a cooler full of Bud Light chilled on the back porch. While Amy and Brendan’s brother joked around inside, Brendan went outside to talk to Travis.
    â€œI don’t think I’ve ever felt this low, man,” Brendan grumbled. “We should have won that fucking game.”
    â€œI know,” Travis replied. “But don’t do what I did to myself in wrestling.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?” Brendan asked.
    â€œWhen I lost that match in Texas, I thought my whole life was over,” Travis said. “I hadn’t been that miserable since I quit the academy. But there are bigger things out there. Think of what we’re probably going to be doing a year or two from now.”
    Without saying anything, Brendan held out his plastic cup, as if to say “cheers.” After graduating as officers in the US Navy and Marine Corps, respectively, Brendan and Travis quietly commemorated their achievement before heading inside to laugh, drink more beer, and get their minds off the game’s disappointing outcome.
    A few minutes later, as the music got even louder, Amy laughed as Travis and