33. Ryan

33

Ryan

T he past few weeks have been a blur. I’ve skipped all of my classes and turned my phone off more than I’d like to admit. I can’t face the shame that I’ll feel on campus. Everyone knows. It’s across every sports journalism website, show, and podcast. One of the top NFL prospects throws his future away for quick cash . That’s what the headlines say, and I guess they are half true.

No one except Violet will know the real me or the true reason behind my ugly secrets. I’ve had hundreds of sleazy reporters reach out for comments, and I haven’t responded to any of them. I haven’t even talked to my mom. I sent her a few texts letting her know I’m fine, but I know it’s not enough. I know she’ll never turn her back on me, but the disappointment is too much to handle at the moment. I did it all for her, but she never wanted that for me. She had dreams of me escaping our town and playing in the league. It gave her something to look forward to, to live for, and I managed to screw that up because I couldn’t look past fixing her present state.

How could I have looked ahead to my future in the NFL when my mom’s health was deteriorating before my eyes?

I knew what I was wagering when I called Logan, and I did it anyway. I know I need to face my mom. It won’t be long before she grows impatient and shows up at my doorstep. I force myself to shower and change clothes for the first time in days. My apartment is abysmal, and my facial hair Depression hit me hard. I make the short drive to Mom’s house and hesitate before knocking on the door. Taking a deep breath, I gently knock. Quicker than expected, the door flies open, and I’m suddenly ten years old again, wrapped in my mom’s arms. The look on her aging face destroys me. I never needed her to worry about me. It should be the other way around.

“Oh, Ryan,” she whispers to me. I try my best to hold back the emotions that have been bubbling to the surface. I won’t let Mom see me distraught. She leads us through the house into the main room, taking her favorite spot on the recliner.

“I’m sorry,” I manage to get out.

“Don’t apologize to me. I’m here, and I’m never going anywhere. I just want to know why,” she asks. Her loving eyes search mine as she grabs my hand in hers. I guess I’ve put her through so many weeks of emotional torture that she’s over the initial shock of it all.

“I had to.”

“No one ever has to do anything. We all make choices in our lives, and you made this one. Now I want the straight answer of why you did it.” Mom has a way of getting things out of me, and she’s relentless when she’s on a mission for answers.

“Your bills. The money didn’t come from a savings account. They came from the bets,” I confess with shame dripping from each word that rolls off my tongue.

“The last few weeks of you ignoring me gave me time to figure it out." She crosses her arms in front of herself.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say.”

“You can start by telling me why you sacrificed your future for my present,” she asserts with a scary level of certainty.

“I need you more than I need football.”

“Ryan, I know my condition has been tearing you apart since high school, but I’ve made it very clear that I don’t want you changing the course of your life for mine. ALS doesn’t get better. You know this.”

“Don’t say that!” I point and yell defensively.

“You need to hear it, son. I’m going to be gone, and you need something to live for besides me.” She walks next to me and wraps her frail arms around my shoulder. I’m shaking, and the walls I’ve built around emotions have officially tumbled down.

“The only thing I have is you. Without you, I’m nothing,” I manage to let out. I'm trying to hold it together the best I can.

“You have made that your story for so long, baby. It’s time to let it go. If this is what it took, I’m glad it happened,” she confesses. “Now go fight for your dream life without me in the way.”

“Football is over, Mom. I don’t know if you’ve been living under a rock, but my name isn’t the most popular at the moment.” I lift my head from my hands to look at the strongest woman I know. I need her strength right now.

“I wasn’t talking about football,” she says.

“Football was my dream, and I ruined it. It’s over, and so is Springs U.”

“Football might be over, but your life isn’t. Don’t act coy, son. That ball of sunshine is something worth fighting for.”

“That’s over.” I know mom loved Violet, but I can’t lie and act like things are ok between us. She’s done with me.

“Nothing’s ever over, now is it?” she smirks.

“I didn’t handle it in the best way, and I broke every bit of trust she had in me,” I explain with embarrassment to the woman who raised me to have integrity, and I’m going along my life with the exact opposite.

“Then fight. You’ve never had a problem with fighting for what you want.”

“What if she doesn’t want me?” I look down at my hands folded between my legs.

“Every girl wants to be fought for. It won’t be easy, and it won’t be a quick fix. Don’t give up on her. I saw the way you two look at each other. Don’t throw it all away,” she yawns, and that’s my cue that I’ve over-exerted her for the day.

“You look tired. Go for a nap, and I’ll head out.”

“Promise me that you’ll fight for a life that’ll make you happy when I’m gone.” Tears flush her eyes.

“I won’t ever be happy when you’re gone,” I answer her truthfully.

“With her, you will.”

“I’ll try.”

That’s the best I can give anyone right now.

I spent the next few weeks after visiting my mom thinking about my life and how I wanted it to look. All I’ve ever known was being a caretaker and football. One of the two is gone, and the other will be one day. How can I continue with my life without the two things that mean the most to me? I need to figure it out. Not for me, but for her. If this is something I can give my mom, I want to try my best to make something of myself.

I’ve received countless emails from my coach and the Springs U athletic director asking for meetings. Ignored. The university has sent me more than one potential class failure email. Ignored. My teammates have blasted my phone with calls and texts to meet up. Ignored. The one person who hasn’t reached out is the only person I care to hear from. I know I’ll have to work on myself first before trying to talk to her again. She doesn’t need this version of me. She deserves better, and I’m determined to make that happen, so I do what I’ve been putting off for weeks. I reach back out to everyone one by one.

I start with Coach and the athletic director because those are strictly business. It’ll be a meeting telling me all the rules I’ve broken and the consequences. I’m prepared for the worst. I pull my phone out of my gray joggers and text Coach, asking for a meeting with him and the athletic director. The response is instant. We have a meeting scheduled an hour from now on campus. My heart races more than expected, but I have to face everyone I’ve burned to move forward with my life. This is the starting point to make amends. I change into khakis and a button-down and drive to the athletic building. Waiting for me are two men with disappointment written all over their faces dressed in Springs U athletics gear.

“Morning,” I say as I take the same seat that I warmed only a few weeks ago. The day I was busted for all of my violations was a serious wake-up call. Now, I have a chance to explain myself and fix things.

“Shane,” they both greet me.

“We’ve sent you more than a dozen texts, emails, and phone calls over the past few weeks, and we haven’t received anything back,” The athletic director levels me with a hard look before continuing, “I was starting to think you dropped from Springs U altogether.”

“I’m sorry about that. I needed time to process the whole situation and determine my next move,” I give them the most honest explanation I can. It’s time to stop hiding and own up to everything I’ve done.

“Not gonna lie, Shane, I’m angry with you. You abandoned the team without so much as an explanation. These are your brothers. They go to war together and fight every week on the field. You owe them more than a disappearing act.” The anger is clear in his voice. He’s right. I haven’t given my teammates the respect they deserve.

“I know, and I plan to explain everything to them, but I would like to start with you two if that’s ok?” They both nod with their arms crossed over their bodies.

I start from the day I found out about my mom’s ALS diagnosis, sparing no detail through the present. I want it all out in the open. I’m exhausted from the secrets and carrying them on my own. It’s time to let other people into my life. They listen without interruption.

“I know it’s a lot, and it’s no excuse for my behavior or what I cost myself and the team in the process, but I wanted you both to see the full picture.”

Coach is the first to speak. “Son, why didn’t you tell me? I could have helped. You know my players come first.” He’s speaking truthfully. He doesn’t have kids, and he always treats us like we are his own.

“This was something I had to handle on my own. I’ve always felt like I’ve been on an island by myself. Asking for help wasn’t an option,” I explain.

“I’m glad you’ve come clean to us. I sincerely appreciate your honesty, but this doesn’t change the NCAA’s decision. I received a formal decision letter in the mail a few days ago.” I know what’s coming, and an eerie sense of calm washes over me.

“They’ve decided to permanently ban you from college football. That’s playing, coaching, and assisting the team in any way, shape, or form.” He slides the tri-folded paper over the wooden desk. I unfold it in my lap and read the words silently, letting them sink in before reaching for a pen.

“I figured. I’m prepared to take the consequences in stride.” I carefully sign the boxes that are required and hand the letter back to the athletic director.

“Thank you both for meeting with me. I’m sorry for this. If I could take it back, I would, but now it’s time for me to move forward.” I shake both their hands and exit the facility. I find a smile creeping onto my face. This shouldn’t be a happy moment, but being fully transparent feels nice.

“Shane, wait!” I hear Coach hollering at me and jogging across the parking lot. I turn and wait for him to approach me.

“Just because football is over for you doesn’t mean I’ve given up on you as a man. You have talent, and it can be channeled in lots of different fields.” He raises one arm to grip my shoulder. “Call me if you ever need anything.”

He pats me on the back and makes his way back to the office.