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“Isn’t that what’s obvious?”
“No. We were meant to be together. I would make you the perfect wife. You know that. You’re going to get drafted and become the starting quarterback for a big NFL team and I’ll take care of the house and start a charity. We talked about this, Baby. Our futures are set.”
She was right. We had talked about it and that was exactly what we had said. But now that I was in my senior year and I couldn’t put off entering the draft any longer, I was starting to have my doubts. That wasn’t her fault, though. And I shouldn’t be taking it out on her.
“You’re right. I’m sorry, Tasha. I’m just in a mood today. But, please, no more talking about threesomes, okay?”
As soon as I said it, I saw the light in Tasha’s eyes blink out.
“Okay,” she agreed before the two of us continued our walk to the restaurant in silence.
“I told you not to take that class, Rucker.”
“Coach, it was something I was interested in,” I tried to explain for the thousandth time.
“Intro to Childhood Education? What does a starting quarterback for the Dallas Cowboys or L.A. Rams need with a class on childhood education?” my coach asked more than a little pissed off.
“Look,” I said finally losing my cool. “I took every class you told me to whether I wanted to or not. I attend every practice you schedule and I work hard enough to puke…”
“And look where you are because of it. A top prospect in a competitive draft class. You should be thanking me for how hard I’ve pushed you.”
I caught myself and took a breath. “And I am. But Coach, I needed to take at least one class that was for me.”
“But why that one?”
“It’s what I’m interested in.”
“Yet you haven’t attended a single class since the beginning of the year?”
“That’s because it starts 20 minutes after the end of practice. I thought I could just run over when I was done. But sometimes practice runs late, or I have to take an ice bath. Sometimes I’m just too tired.”
“Well, you should have thought about that before you chose the class because this professor isn’t as sympathetic to the challenges of student-athletes as the others are. This one thinks you should have to attend and take the tests to pass. And if you don’t pass this class, you won’t be allowed to play spring quarter. That means this team won’t win and no one will scout you.”
“I got it. I’ll start going to class.”
“Not just that. You’re getting a tutor. I’ll have one of my people find you someone. When’s your next class?”
I looked up at the clock on the wall of Coach’s office.
“Right now.”
“Then get your ass over there.”
“Coach, it’s across campus. By the time I get there, there will only be five minutes left.”
“I guess that means you’ll have to run, doesn’t it?”
“Coach, we just did 20 minutes of wind sprints.”
“Don’t talk back, just run. I mean it. Go, go, go!”
Backing out of the office, I did what I was told and ran. I had taken off my chest padding, but I was still in my cleats, compression shirt, and padded pants. The class was on the third floor of a building clear across campus. I didn’t have time to change if I was going to make it.
I didn’t know how I had gotten into this mess. Actually, I kinda did. It was my act of rebellion. Yeah, I knew that it would butt up against practice, but I thought it would give me an excuse to leave practice early. I was wrong. And now my entire future hung in the balance.
Entering the building and the stairwell, I was completely out of breath. Luckily no one could hear my panting over the thunderous noise of my metal cleats echoing off the concrete. There was no quietly sneaking into the back of the class. By the time I had opened the classroom door, everyone had already turned to look. There were 50 students and one angry professor all staring at me.
“Sorry. Please continue,” I said between struggling breaths and plenty of humiliation.
