The Legend: The Love of Ryan Sumpter

by Samuelson, Philip

  Oh yeah, and no limo for us. I drove her to the reception in my Ferrari F50. It wasn't my choice, actually. I wanted to drive Ayrton’s Wraith. Mary-Margaret wanted there to be a part of Maddie in the wedding. I had told her on the night that I said goodbye to Maddie that she always loved that F50. Mary-Margaret wanted it to be our getaway car.

  If the swinging of the hands and the way she looked at me as we walked down the aisle as man and wife wasn't enough to assure me that this was the only girl in the world I was supposed to be with... The fact that she wanted a part of Maddie there with us was. It meant everything to me that she thought so highly of Maddie. Maddie could be a real train wreck at times. But Mary-Margaret was grateful for her role in my life. Maddie made me into the man I should have been for Mary-Margaret to begin with.

  Mary-Margaret and I drove out of her family's estate and onto the main road. We were headed to meet the bridesmaids and groomsmen for a secret getaway luncheon without all the guests. They thought we were headed to get pictures taken... Nope. We wanted some time with the crew. Again, Mary-Margaret's idea. She was something else.

  As I turned onto the main road, I noticed there was a car parked on the other side of the road. It was a green Chevy SUV, and Diana was leaning up against the outside of it with her arms crossed. I mentioned before that our conversation in Ohio was the last time I ever talked to her. This was the last time I ever saw her. She raised her hand as a signal of goodbye and I did the same. I drove past her, glanced in my mirror and watched her until she disappeared into the horizon behind me.

  “You okay?” Mary-Margaret asked me.

  I picked up her hand and kissed it. “Never better.”

  “As the best man, I'm supposed to stand up here and tell a stupid story about Ryan. But the only words that come to mind when I look here at my best friend and his beautiful wife... Man did you ever marry up. But seriously, no seriously... I look at you two, and we all knew Ryan would end up marrying a high maintenance girl. But he didn't. Today, he did marry his princess. He married a girl that he will look up to for the rest of his life. He married a girl who makes him a better person. He married a girl he cannot stop looking at. We should all be so lucky. Today, my best friend got his beauty queen, his princess, and I am so damn proud of him,” Ayrton said with a raise of his glass of champaigne.

  Soon after the wedding, Mary-Margaret and I decided that we would start trying for our first child. She wanted a little boy, just like his father. I wanted a little girl, just like her mother. Mary-Margaret, oye! did she ever have some great ways to keep my attention. One issue we had worked through was intimacy. I had always looked at that girl with her sexy body and appeal and thought, dayamn I want to toss her on the bed and go all carnal satisfaction with that. I couldn't deny it, Mary-Margaret was a hotty... And somehow, I got her. But I was always afraid she was too classy to really get down and dirty. I wanted to respect her class and dignity.

  Well, she didn't want that. Not in the bedroom at least. Or in the shower. Or the closet. Or on the balcony. Or the pool table. Or the dining room table. Or even... The Beach House conference room. Yeah, imagine the thought that went through my mind when Ayrton dropped some ice cream on the table and licked it up like a heathen. It was one of those classic moments where I couldn't help but laugh.

  Mary-Margaret wanted an active sex life where just about anything was a go in the bedroom. She got it, and holy Lord almighty sweet baby Jesus in heaven, did she ever know how to get it. I said it a long time ago, that girl knows how to get my blood up. All it took was dressing a little sexy and it was on. We had more fun than any two people should ever have. On the day we decided to start trying for a baby, she surprised me with a little role play. I totally did not see that one coming, especially with the little plaid skirt she had on. Hot. Damn. Oh yeah, and she continued. She even ordered pizza with.... Extra... Meat. No kidding. We role played for about ten hours. It was ten of the best hours of my life.

  We chose to hold off on our honeymoon until the summer break. By that point, we were yet again way out front in the Formula World Championship points standings. I was looking to become only the third driver ever to win four straight driver's titles, joining two of the greats of the sport, Manuel and Shoemaker.

  Hermann was high on our priority list for our honeymoon. He had meant so much to Mary, to me, to the team. We wanted to do something special for him. He always wanted to go to an Atlanta Braves game and never got the chance. That was unbelievable to me. He lived practically right next to Atlanta and never went to a game.

  Mary-Margaret and I bought some great seats for an early August game and took Hermann to see it. I'd never seen him so happy. He was like a kid with a new set of Power Wheels. Over the previous couple of years, Hermann had started to show his age significantly. But on that day, he was the happiest, youngest man alive.

  Seeing what that did to Mary-Margaret made my heart sizzle with joy. I made sure I took a picture of the two of them before the game was over. I was so proud of her, proud of the woman she had become, but most of all, proud of the daughter she was to Hermann. She might not have been a blood relative of Hermann, but the two of them might as well have been. She loved Hermann almost as much as she loved me.

  Hermann retired to his hotel bedroom that night after giving both Mary-Margaret and me a huge hug and thank you. He was reduced to tears by our simple actions. To me, it was no big deal at all. But to Hermann, it was the greatest thing anyone had ever done for him.

  The next morning, Mary-Margaret and I woke up and prepared to leave for our honeymoon in Switzerland, a place neither of us had yet visited. As Mary-Margaret was preparing herself, I went to Hermann's room to make sure he was almost ready to go. He was always very punctual, so when he didn't answer the door, it caught me off-guard. I used the spare key he gave us to enter the room.

  “Hermann? Hey bud, ready to go?” I asked as I slowly entered. It was silent, the blinds were still drawn. I could tell the light next to the bed was on though. I rounded the corner and there was Hermann lying on the bed, head tilted back with his Bible laying open on his chest. I approached him, gently took the Bible from his hands and looked at what he was reading.

  A passage was underlined. “For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.” It was Jeremiah 29:11. I checked Hermann's pulse. Nothing. He had died shortly after arriving back in his room, I would guess. He was smiling. He got his expected end, I would imagine.

  I've always believed that every person must complete one specific thing before he or she dies. I remember hearing a story of a lady who had wanted a Ford Escape ever since she first saw one. She saved for years to buy it and died just days after finally getting her Escape. Perhaps Hermann's last duty was to attend that baseball game. Such a simple concept, and it made me wonder what my last duty would be. In my opinion, I think the last thing I will do before I die is wake up on a winter morning, look at my lovely wife, and be reminded that I am the luckiest guy in the world.

  I placed Hermann's Bible back on his chest and went to find Mary-Margaret. I didn't tell her the news. I simply led her to Hermann's room. She knew what happened. I wondered if maybe she knew it as soon as we woke up. Hermann, her defacto father, had passed away.

  But he died happy. He died complete. He died knowing that whatever higher power he believed in gave him an expected end with thoughts of peace. We scratched our honeymoon to hold a grand celebration for Hermann. He never wanted to be buried or mourned. He wanted something you wouldn't quite think of for the typical southern black man with heritage rooted deep in slavery. He wanted to be cremated and to have his ashed spread on the Alabama Crimson Tide football field. Not the practice field, the actual football field. Ayrton had to call in a favor with Jimmy to get that one achieved, but we gave him his wish. We spread Hermann all over each end zone.

  Hermann also wanted us to throw a traditional old Irish party with step dancers,
tons of beer and whiskey, and a bunch of other stuff I couldn't begin to understand. So we did. We turned Mary-Margaret's house into an Irish pub and celebrated the life of a man who changed the lives of everyone on the racing team.

  Toward the end of the party, Mary-Margaret and I were the only two that weren't smashed. I stood alone on the rear balcony when she came out to visit me.

  “You remember what happened here?” she asked me as she wrapped her arms around my waist.

  “Of course. You fainted into my arms and Hermann helped me win you over,” I responded.

  “I never thanked him for that.”

  “He knew. He knew how much you appreciated him. He died happy, after all,” I told her.

  “Yeah. It's hard to celebrate someone I'll never get to see again,” Mary-Margaret said as I turned around and held her close. I had no words to comfort her. Only the warmth of my arms on an oddly cool summer night.

  Like the strong woman she was, Mary-Margaret got through the rest of the year and lived in a fashion that would have made any father proud, especially Hermann. The team brought home our fourth straight world championship and announced a return to GT racing for 2012 and our first entry into rally as well.

  The racing of 2012 was of no importance. We won both championships we entered, as expected. The stories of 2012 didn’t even have much to do with Mary-Margaret and me. Who were the stories about? Everyone else in our lives. Great things happened that year. In early February, Ayrton proposed to Seratti. No kidding. My boy, the play boy, Ayrton Cenecci, was getting married. They set the date for June of 2013. It was a day I was looking forward to almost as much as I anticipated my own wedding.

  I heard quite a few things about my exes, all of which made me smile. I was proud of all of them. Natalie had gotten married to a really great Russian guy and she had started a very successful animal shelter. Lexi met a top notch guy named James, they were set to be married in 2013. Diana finally gave Matt a fair opportunity and they were to be married at the end of the year.

  The Vector Group saw two new additions to the company, so to say. Chase married his longtime girlfriend, Stacie. He had met her through Mary-Margaret a few years before. Luis married his longtime girlfriend, a Venezuelan girl named Valentina. Yusuf found love and married a beautiful lady named Bernice. We were instructed to call her Miss Bernice... Don't ask me why.

  Those weren't the only orders of business for the team, though. The famous Shelter Island mansion went up for sale. It was a $79 million dollar estate located on Flathead Lake in Montana, and we wanted it. Ayrton bought it with his own money specifically for himself and Seratti, but also as an extra company playground. I can only imagine how quickly the two of them defamed every room in that enormous mansion...

  There were two interactions I had in 2012 that will always stand out to me. One of them came as a complete surprise. We were in Slovakia for the GT season when I was paid an unexpected visit.

  “Mister Sumpter, I understand you are now married,” I heard from a familiar voice. It was Niki, visiting me during an off week from the Formula World Championship.

  “Indeed I am, Niki. How are you?” I asked him with a smile and a handshake.

  “I wanted you to be the first to know. I am retiring from motorsport. No longer will I be involved in any team organization. I just want to see it for the love of the sport,” he told me.

  “I'm sorry to hear that, Niki. Congratulations though. The racing world is losing a big part of itself in my estimation.”

  “I disagree. You – You were the man who taught me the necessity to step back and enjoy the sport simply for love. Nobody ever got through to me before. You were able to stay competitive and aggressive while still knowing when to slow down and enjoy the scenery. As much as I'm sure you've learned from me, I've learned just as much from you,” Niki said.

  “You have no idea how much that means to me, Niki. Thank you.”

  “You once mentioned Dale. He was your first mentor at the race track. Did I do him any justice? Was I able to help you anything like he was?”

  “Absolutely, Niki. You can rest peacefully at night knowing you've made me a much better person.”

  “And you, me,” Niki said. With one final handshake, he walked away.

  “Hey Niki – You're still wearing the wrong colors,” I told him. His final job was with Mercedes, whose colors were brushed silver and green. In the GT series, I was driving for Ferrari. Go figure.

  “I know. You told me the Ferrari hat was the wrong colors. So I changed teams,” Niki said with a laugh. That was the last time I saw him that year. The experience made me want to return to the Formula World Championships again just so I could be blessed with his presence and knowledge.

  The other interaction I had was as simple as two sentences but as impactful as two heavenly bodies colliding. Mary-Margaret and I were at our house in Montana, I was sitting in the library while she was... I didn't even know where.

  She came in to see me and curled up in my lap. She placed her hand on the side of my face, something she commonly did to calm my nerves.

  “I'm pregnant,” she told me.

  “Buuullllll shit!” I responded. She giggled at my puerility, thankfully. I wasn't afraid or upset. I was ecstatic. Mary-Margaret and I were going to have a child. It was going to be very tough, but so worth it. The team was returning to stock car racing, which always presented the most grueling schedule of any form of motorsport. But I was ready for this. So ready.

  No matter what, 2012 was a year of incredible steps forward for everyone in my life and everyone I had known before. Up until now, I've told you mostly about stories that concerned only my life. Finally, 2012 gave me the opportunity to tell you the simple but important things the people I loved most got to experience. That's why I will always remember 2012. In my opinion, although it may not take up hundreds of pages, it was the most important year of my life. I'd never been happier than I was in 2012. I couldn't wait to see what the year 2013 had to offer.

  - 14 -

  The Way It All Ends

  For so many years, I had done the same thing. I had gone around in circles and been infinitely successful in doing so. My body had taken many shots. My heart had taken many shots. In 37 full years, I'd led a more abundant life than most people ever would in 90. I always expected to die on the race track. I was quoted many times saying that's how the greats die, doing what they love to do. I don't know that I am or ever have been one of those greats, but I do know I didn't die on a race track. This is the year I was to die.

  What's worse, my incredible wife of not even two years was going to experience the horror of watching me die. I've always believed that everything in life will come full circle. In January of 2013, this concept was proven to me. Blacker would be no more before I knew it. I would fail to make my 38th birthday. I would fail to see my wife's beautiful face on our 2nd wedding anniversary.

  I would not get to see Ayrton get married. I would not to get to be there with Mary-Margaret as she gave birth to our child. I would not get to help raise our child and continue to be hopelessly in love with my wife for years and years to come.

  I cannot complain about the life I led. So many things had gone right. Much more was given to me than was ever taken away. But what was taken away was simply devastating. I was able to pull through it, and I ended up continuing with a life that any human would be proud of.

  January 30th, 2013. This would be the day that I died.

  The day started as every other day did. Perfectly. I woke up next to the most gorgeous young lady I'd ever laid eyes on. Mary-Margaret Sumpter. Wow, did that ever have a nice ring to it. My wife. Mary-Margaret Sumpter. The sun gleamed in over her shoulder as it always did, illuminating her long brown hair and shading her face so I could see her clearly. And I was reminded that I was the luckiest guy in the world on that cold winter morning.

  Nothing had to be said. We couldn't stop looking at each other. That day was no different than any other. It was
my mother's birthday, Mary-Margaret and I always spent it together. We were headed for the Bogert rink. Mary-Margaret always knew how to show her love for me. She wanted to skate with me, just so we could be together. I always felt most alive in a race car, but the closest feeling I could ever find to that off the track was on that rink with Mary-Margaret. It was pure bliss.

  We got to the rink. She and I had barely spoken a word that day, but we were both very happy. We laced up our skates and jumped on the rink. I never locked the door behind us anytime we were there. The thought never crossed my mind. Very soon, I would wish that I had locked the door.

  A man entered, walked down the open path that lead to the team bench at the edge of the rink. Mary-Margaret saw him first, we both stopped. This man didn't look happy. He looked sick, like mentally sick. There was clearly something up. He walked onto the rink. I noticed he wasn't wearing skates though. He had ice shoes on. Had he really thought this out? What was there to plan out like that?

  The man approached us. “Hey bud, what's up? Something I can help you with?” I asked him.

  “You killed my father, you son of a bitch,” he responded. I was blown away. Where was this coming from?

  “I'm sorry, I think you are mistaken. I never killed your father.”

  “Ryan Sumpter. In 1997, I was with my father in an apartment complex. I watched you kill him. Every day since, I have worked to get here. I taught myself to read so I could keep up with where you were in life. I taught myself to write so I could contact you with fan letters. I taught myself to drive so I could watch you race in person. And I have watched you every day for the past decade,” he said. This was disconcerting, to say the least. This guy, he wasn't small. He was probably in his twenties, about six foot three or so.