“I know it’s hard when you and your father get into it and . . .”
“I know, Mom. I don’t want you to worry about that stuff. I don’t want that to be on you. It’s for me and Dad. I’m gonna be okay. You raised a tough son.”
“I know, baby, but you should not stress. You guys should get along more. I just want things to get better between the two of you guys. I want to help build that bridge. Sometimes I don’t know why it’s so broken because I know he loves you.”
That comment made me look away because I’d often wondered if he did love me. What did I do that was so wrong to make my dad be so horrible to me? I definitely didn’t look as much like him as Anthony did, but so what? I looked more like my mom. What was the big deal in that? I did not have the same interests he did, but so what? I was still a decent young man who had good character and morals. I was not one to be in trouble. I was not hanging in the streets or hanging with thugs. Why did he have such a problem with me?
Because I was not on track to make six or seven figures? He hated me because he thought he was going to have to take care of me most of his life. I was sure that was it. What else could it be? My mom’s eyes filled with water, and my instinct was to turn off her tears.
I lifted my hands toward her eyes and said, “Mom, please don’t cry.”
I caught a tear that fell from her eye. She held me tight. Did I have some disease I didn’t know about? I could handle my dad. She need not worry.
“Mom, you’re saying you want me to be happy. So here, look, I want to play football. I know it’s a dangerous sport. I know it’s time consuming. However, I know I’m still really good. The coach at my high school is an awesome man who I know Dad will respect. He wants me on his team. I’ve been out there, I’ve played—”
“Whoa, whoa, wait, son. Football? Honey, no. That’s been over since middle school. You’re about to graduate. We need to concentrate on your academics,” my mom said, frustrating me.
“Mom, I have a three-point-seven-five; school is not a problem. You just said you wanted me to be happy. Football can do that for me. The only thing I need you to do for me is talk to Dad. It’s just a few papers I need you to sign, and maybe if Dad sees that I’m really good at something, better than I was in middle school, he’ll relax and let up. He’ll let me be a baller. Don’t you want to hear your son’s name called over the loudspeaker after catching interceptions and running their receivers out of bounds? Just let me play football, Mom. Please talk to Dad.”
“Football?!” Both of us were startled when my dad’s authoritative voice came into the kitchen and screamed. “Heck no! You’re not playing football. That’s the stupidest thing I could ever think you would ask to do. You might as well drop out of school right now because football is a game for idiots,” my dad said, belittling me.
Trying to keep my cool, I went over to him and said, “Look, Dad, I know you think it’s crazy, but I’m really talented at it. I’m sorry I don’t want to be a scientist, a engineer, or a doctor, but—”
Cutting me off, he said harshly, “Look, let me just stop you right now. I’m not supporting you to play football. I think it’s for idiots. Getting out there and basically hitting each other around, trying to knock each other out for a ball. I’m not agreeing to it. You’re not playing, and that’s final. Do you understand, Amir?” my dad said when he came up to my face. “Or do I need to beat the football out of you like I did when you were in the seventh grade?”
Not wanting to give him any respect, I stepped up to him and looked down on him. He might have been smarter than me, but he was not bigger. With every ounce of composure I could muster, I stayed collected. I looked him in the eye and said, “Yes, man.”
CHAPTER 4
Bad News
The text from Landon King read, “If you think you can hang, come to Wax’s party.” I was surprised to be invited and that he had my number.
Usually I didn’t hang at house parties, but I decided to go. I was so upset with my father, and I knew he would blow a gasket if he knew what I was doing. I felt rebellious, and I was excited to put the address into my GPS and head that way.
My new Ford Mustang was fully loaded. I was pretty particular about where I went because I did not want anyone denting my car or trying to steal it. However, at that moment I felt that because my father bought it, if someone took every single part, I would not care.
Another reason I had no problems showing up at the house jam was because I thought Hallie might be there. I really loved the fact that we were having close moments, and she was not pressing me to call her. Since we had space between us, I wanted things to be tighter.
It took me no time to get to the other side of town. There were so many kids in front of Wax’s house I did not need my GPS to confirm that I was at the right spot. I parked my ride, made sure it was locked up, saw girls eyeing me like they wanted a ride, and brothers jocking me like they were jealous that it wasn’t their car. It always amazed me how people were so into wanting what others had.
“Look who made it, y’all,” Landon said as I entered the crowded porch.
“What’s up?” I asked, not sure if this was a good idea after all.
“I see you got my text,” he said. We slapped hands.
This was interesting because I knew the dude did not like me. Now he was being cool. Was there a catch? Leo and Landon had beers in their hands. They were hanging out with some other football players I had not met yet. I did not know where Brenton and Blake were. However, I thought it was pretty sad that these players thought they had to get drunk to have fun.
Colby, whose spot Coach said I was taking, came up to me and put his hand in my face. “My job, not taken.”
His eyes were going in opposite directions. His body was swaying. Clearly he was out of it. I patted him on the back and walked on.
Landon called out, “Where you going?”
“I’ll leave you to baby-sit,” I said as I continued to head inside.
I was not about to hang with guys I was not even sure were going to be my teammates. The DJ did have the place rocking, and I did not mind getting my dance groove on. If only I could find Hallie and rub up against her fine legs. When my eyes got covered, my heart skipped a few beats. Unfortunately, I turned around and saw it was Lexus, grinning as if I was about to make her every wish come true. I wanted to puke. She was smart though. She had me cornered. She boxed me in with her arms and started whispering stuff in my ear. I did not want to hear any of it.
“I’m just asking for one more chance, Amir. I’ve been watching you since the moment you came in here. You were huffing and puffing, and I can make your tough walls come down.”
I did not entertain Lexus’s words. My attention was diverted when I spotted Hallie. My body just seemed to flow toward her or she came to me. Lexus was still talking so I had no real clue as to who came to whom.
Quickly, I was puzzled. It seemed Hallie was more lit than Colby. Her words were slurring, her clothes were not on properly, and she reeked of alcohol. The bartender was a guy named Pinecone who went to our school. I motioned for him to step to me. When he did, I grabbed his collar and almost jerked him across the bar.
“What the heck, dude? Why have you been serving her all of this? If she passes out or something happens to her, it’s on you,” I yelled, going into protective mode.
“She asked for it, man. What do you want me to do?” Pinecone whined, wanting me to leave him alone.
I let go of his collar in an abrupt way. “You shouldn’t be serving drinks in here at all. You know these people are under age.”
“What are you, the alcohol police?” Pinecone joked, turning away from me.
From behind, I shouted to Pinecone. “I’ma be your worst nightmare if something happens to her. I’m telling you right now.”
“Why?” Lexus demanded.
I saw Hallie talking to some girls on the cheerleading squad, so I knew she was in good hands. However, I wanted to get over there
and make sure she was okay. I did not have time for Lexus to trip.
“I’m gonna kill myself if you don’t give us one more chance,” Lexus said, truly stunning me.
A part of me wanted to say, Do whatever you have to do. At least then I would not have to deal with her insane antics. But I was too much of a gentleman to act like her words did not bother me.
Trying to calm her, I said, “Lexus, I don’t want you to do anything to harm yourself.”
“I know you don’t. I know you still care. I know you want to be my guy. Come on, baby, let’s leave this place,” Lexus said in an insane voice.
I did not know what to say to her. I did not want to send her over the edge, but really she was already too far gone. She could misinterpret everything that I was saying and use it as more fuel to go crazy.
I took a deep breath, placed my hands on both her shoulders, and said, “Look, straight up, you deserve better than me.”
“But you’re what I want,” Lexus pleaded.
“I’m not what you need.”
As if I was a real magnet for girls with issues, Hallie place her arms around me and slurred, “I miss you.”
One of the cheerleaders, who I think was a twin, said, “I’m Ella. This is Randal. Could you please get our girl home?”
“Didn’t you see he was talking to me?” Lexus whined.
“Lexus, let me just help them,” I said in a nice way, hoping Lexus would understand.
“Yeah, our friend’s in a crisis right now. Can’t he just help us?” the short Randal girl said.
Lexus stormed away, and Hallie fell into my arms. I was so mad at Hallie. I tried to get her to tell me where she lived, but she was not making any sense. I asked her girlfriends to go in her purse and give me her driver’s license. When I got to my Mustang, I plugged her address into my GPS. This all just seemed so weird. Hallie was just all put together, so sure of herself, so on top of things . . . Why was she drunk? It did not do me any good to ask her because she barely knew her own name. It was clear she was mumbling about her mom and that she was going through some serious issues. Instantly, I felt her pain.
When we got to her house, I helped her out of the car. Her hands were all over me. Normally that would have been a good thing, but when I heard her front door slam shut and saw an angry man heading our way, I realized the scene did not look good.
“Who are you? Take your hands off my daughter. What’s this? You get girls all loaded up with alcohol and take advantage, or did you slip a roofie into her drink or something? Oh my gosh, my baby daughter’s barely conscious,” the man howled. “Get off my property right now!”
I was trying to protect his daughter, and here he was accusing me of trying to harm her. He would not let me get a word in edgewise. Hallie could not defend me. This was a mess. Thankfully, her friends pulled up, talked to her father, and explained what happened. I thought he would deem me a hero, but he still wanted me gone. That hurt.
“Oh no, Coach Strong, I’m not having it. My son is not sitting on the bench and being replaced by some new kid that you pulled off the streets,” an irate dad was yelling at Coach Strong when I came to football practice.
“With all due respect, Mr. Allen,” Coach Strong said with a more level-headed voice, “I know you want Colby to play, and I appreciate all you’ve done for my program. The bags you bought for my team, priceless . . .”
“Don’t you forget,” Mr. Allen replied.
“But, sir, that was never a bribe to make sure I played your son, was it? If so, I need to get the booster club to refund you your money. Colby is a sophomore. I thought he was ready, and I gave him an opportunity. He hasn’t been performing, but the young man that you’re talking about is here and can make an impact on the program now. You and I can watch the both of them, and you can tell me whom you think should play. I’m trying to win a championship. Colby will benefit when the scouts come in here and look at all these older guys. Amir and Colby, y’all get on the line. Let’s run the forty.”
When I got on the line, I looked over and saw Colby was shaking. He said, “Please, please, Amir, don’t let me look bad in front of my dad. I know you’re gonna take my job. It’s yours. I know you’re way better than me. I just don’t want to look bad. My dad thinks I have skills that I don’t have. He didn’t even play football, and he’s tryna put all this pressure on me. Like he rewrites scripts for Hollywood, he thinks he can write my future.”
“Wait, wait, your father is Johnny Allen, the movie producer who lives in Atlanta?”
“Yeah.”
“You guys live down the street from us,” I said, tripping that I never really played outside to even notice Colby.
I knew exactly what he was going through. Unwanted pressure from a father was too much to bear. So when Coach Strong blew the whistle, I kicked into high gear but immediately pulled back and let Colby beat me.
“See, see, this is exactly what I’m talking about,” Mr. Allen called out in dramatic form, like he was the actor and not the producer. “You talking about pulling my son out so some other guy can start who ain’t even faster than my boy? What other drills you want to run, Coach? What else do you want to show me? What? What? What!”
Coach looked over at him like, Man, you do not even got a clue. This dude let your son win. But Mr. Allen saw what he wanted to see. Though Colby was not truly happy because he knew he did not really beat me, he was not demoralized either. He made his father proud, and that made his chest stick out a few notches.
Coach came over to me and threw his clipboard on the ground and yelled, “What the heck, son? What’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” I lied. “I just slowed up, Coach. I guess.”
Coach Strong wasn’t buying my response. “Oh, we about to run this again.”
“Nah, Coach, he beat me,” I said, wanting the results to be left for now.
Coach grabbed my collar, twisted it, and said, “Look, I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I need you to perform.”
I shook my head. I looked over at Colby’s father who had two thumbs up pointing at his son. There was no way I was going to take that moment away from Colby. Football meant a lot to me because I was out here against my father’s wishes. However, it did not mean more to me than having integrity and not wanting to kick someone when they were down.
“Sir, you might not know this, but fathers can make or break their sons.”
Coach looked at me and called out to Colby. “Allen, come here. Do I need to go over there and explain to your father what happened? Or do you want to race again and do it fair and square? I need men on my team, and this guy right here is talented. If you two are on the same team, he’s gonna help you get better. Next year when I lose my seniors, you can be in the backfield with Amir. What’s it gonna be?”
“Do you,” Colby said to me.
I shrugged my shoulders, not knowing what that phrase meant. Coach needed to leave well enough alone. I did not want to hurt this guy.
Leo was close by and said, “That means go for yours. Take no prisoners. Don’t feel sorry for him, run.”
“You sure?” I asked Colby.
“I gotta learn to stand up to my dad someday,” Colby grumbled.
I definitely felt him on that. Coach went back over to stand by Mr. Allen. He blew the whistle, and it was not even close. We did a couple of other drills, like catching passes, taking balls away from the defenders, and every time I outshined Colby Allen. Coach put his hand on Mr. Allen’s shoulder. He brushed it off, dropped his head, and walked off from practice.
Coach blew his whistle and everyone started getting in position to go about their normal routine. I could see that Colby was deflated. I did not know the guy, and I was not trying to baby him, but I was concerned. I walked toward him. I was not alone. Blake Strong, the quarterback, was right beside me.
“You gonna talk to him?” Blake asked.
“Yeah. Were you going over there? You can instead,” I said to Blake.
“Why don’t we both do it?”
“Cool,” I said and continued toward Colby.
With all the players moving, it took us a while to see Colby was not on the field. We could not find him anywhere outside. We went over to the field house, and that is when we both stopped in our tracks. Colby’s father was going off.
“You’re never going to amount to anything, letting this guy come in here and take your starting job. You have no gumption. You’re a wimp,” Mr. Allen vented.
Colby said, “I don’t want to be out here playing ball, Dad. I’m out here because of you.”
“Well, there ain’t no point of being out here at all when you don’t want to do it. Clearly, you can’t do it.”
“So I can quit?”
His father did not answer that question, but replied, “You disgust me.”
It just felt like his dad had a baseball bat and was beating him over the head with it.
“Dang, he sounded like my dad,” I muttered.
“Mine too.”
The quarterback and I just shared a moment. When Mr. Allen was gone, Blake said to Colby, “It’s gonna be all right, man.”
“You don’t know nothing,” Colby cried. “And why were you in here listening to my conversation? Okay, you happy now? My dad thinks I’m worthless. He doesn’t give me respect like your pops gives you. And what are you doing standing here, Amir? You got my starting job. If I had your skills . . . shoot.”
I stepped up to him and said, “I understand. I don’t know what Blake’s talking about but I understand.”
Blake said, “Y’all ain’t walked in my shoes. You see my dad coaching, but he has the highest expectations for me. So I know exactly what you’re thinking, Colby, what you’re feeling, what you’re going through, and yeah, I think the only difference is I do want to play ball, not for my father, but for me. If you don’t want to play ball, you need to let your dad know.”
“I want to play, but I just can’t play. So sometimes when I know I’m not doing it right, I don’t want to be out here. Maybe it’s just that I know I’m not very good, so I don’t wanna practice or study the playbook. I don’t know . . . I know he hates me for it, and I don’t like that.”
Keep Jumping / No Hating Page 14