29. Ryan

29

Ryan

I t’s game day, and I’m psyched. Starting the morning off with my girl and an intense workout keeps my head straight and locked in. A few of the guys came to the field early to get reps in. This is a big game. If we win, we move on to the semis. Scouts from the league are watching our every move. Mistakes at this point in the season are costly. My mind is clear for the first time in weeks, that is until I head to the locker room and check my phone.

Logan: We’re locked in.

Me: Ok.

The pit in my stomach returns in full force. I can’t dwell on it. Mom has been going to PT again, and I see an improvement in her mobility and stamina. She hasn’t questioned me about the money. She’s always elected to only see the best in me. Questions inevitably bring my demons to light.

On game days, our schedule is tight. Pre-morning workouts, a short break, then watching game film. On my way out of the locker room to the film room, I’m greeted unexpectedly by Coach and an important-looking man in a suit. They are both sporting scowls, and Coach takes his hat off repeatedly and runs his hands through his hair.

“Ryan, you need to come with us.” My eyes haze over, and my stomach bottoms out. I know what this is about before making it to the administrative office.

Coach doesn’t say a word on our walk to the athletic building office space. I’ve only been in this building a handful of times, and it was all paperwork stuff for my scholarship. If I’m in here, it’s serious business. Coach and the well-dressed man take a seat across from me. This office is small, but a massive computer faces both of them.

“Ryan Shane, I’m Lester Miles, head of athletics here at Springs U. We’ve brought you in here today to discuss recent suspicions of NCAA college football violations that you may be involved in,” he says with a fierce seriousness in his voice. I gulp loudly. My palms sweat, and my mind is rolling with hundreds of thoughts. Do I lie? Do I tell the truth? Is there any way out of this?

Coach chimes in, “Ryan, we have evidence that you’ve been betting on college football playoff games. Is this true?” The disappointment in his eyes makes me want to vomit.

“No.” I quickly decide lying is my only option.

“Mr. Shane, this is not something that you’ll be able to get out of. We have the evidence, and it’s hefty. You need to come clean,” Lester glares at me, folding his arms across his chest.

“What does this mean for the game tonight?” I ask with naivety.

“The game tonight is the least of your worries, son. Your football career may be over. Now tell us the truth,” Coach says with authority.

“I.. I.. My mom is sick,” I sound like a child, but I don’t know how else to explain how ignorant I am to do something like this. Both men stare, hoping I’ll continue to explain.

“She needed money to pay for her PT appointments. I made decent money here and there in high school doing it. It was the only way to get a big chunk of money quickly.” No explanation will justify my actions to these two. I’m fairly certain my career is over, so I word-vomit the rest of the story.

“I know a guy that does it full time, so I asked him to help me. I knew it was wrong, but my back was against the wall. She’s all I have, and losing football was worth the risk. I couldn’t lose her,” I explain with a stone-cold expression. I can’t show weakness.

Coach interjects, “How much money, Shane?”

“Last week, I banked five thousand. It all went to her bills. She started going to the doctor again, and she’s making progress.”

Coach and Lester look at each other and sigh.

“Did you bet on our game, son?” Coach asks sadly. I hesitate before answering. Coach bangs his fists against the wooden desk and leans over close to my face. “Be straight with me. Did you bet on our game?”

“You already know the answer to that. I was desperate,” I reply with heavy shame laced on my tongue. Coach curses under his breath and folds his arms over his chest. He can’t stand the sight of me, and I don’t blame him.

Lester cuts in, “Mr. Shane, we are required to report this activity to the NCAA. If we don’t, Springs U could suffer a college sports ban for years. We can’t risk that.”

My vision goes black. I knew this was coming, but the blow hits me harder than I anticipated. This morning was so clear. I was happy for the first time in days. I thought I was invincible. There’s no way I would make the same mistakes twice. I was more careful and diligent this time around, but it wasn’t enough. Now, my life and everything I’ve worked for is fading to black. I’ll ultimately lose everyone and everything.

“I understand,” I say.

“You are one of the top NFL recruits in the nation. This story has the potential to make headlines. Make sure you are prepared for that,” Lester says with a business-like tone.

Coach adds, “You are no longer allowed on team facilities, but you knew that before you engaged in something so stupid and reckless.”

“You won’t hear from me again,” I stand and walk out of the abysmal office.

I don’t know how I make it back to my car, but I find myself parked at Downtown Tap. My mind is turned off, along with my phone. I can’t speak to anyone. I need to drown my problems away with heavy liquor. I have nothing left to protect, so my self-imposed public drinking rules don’t mean anything anymore. My face will be blasted across ESPN within the next few hours, and my career will officially end with the report. I take a seat at the dingy barstool and order a vodka shot from the middle-aged bartender in front of me. I’m in no mood to talk. I just want to forget.