I thought Aaron was messing with me, but he carried on like it was his normal way of speaking. His drawl was so heavy that at times I couldn’t understand him.
“You know you grew up in Connecticut, right?” I finally said.
I pointed down to his new “860/Connecticut” tattoo on his right shin to remind him. Was this Aaron trying to fit in at Florida?
One afternoon the two of us worked out together and then went to our mother’s house to hang out by the pool. Neither of us was staying there—I was at my girlfriend’s house and Aaron was at Tanya’s—but it was good to be back home. Our mom was at work and Aaron’s friends weren’t in sight, so it was just the two of us, which meant Aaron didn’t have to try so hard to fit in. He could be himself. He dropped the accent.
He sounded thrilled about Florida and everyone there. He loved his teammates and told me that he often texted his coaches late at night when he was working out or running up and down the stadium steps. “I will be the greatest and I will not let you down,” he’d tell them.
Then he told me about a girl he was spending time with. He had met Alyssa in a class and he said that she had a wonderful, caring heart. I was surprised, because growing up he rarely talked about girls he was interested in. I knew he’d dated a girl named Shayanna in high school, but they separated shortly after he moved to Florida because of the distance. Aaron said Alyssa made him laugh.
As we sat on the edge of the pool with our feet in the water, Aaron said, “I’ll give her a call right now and put her on speaker. She’s hilarious.”
He was right—she was funny and quick with comebacks. He seemed really happy.
“HE WAS VERY CLOSED off, but the more he was around he just became himself,” Alyssa told me later.
“Aaron got this random idea to get a dog,” she said. He couldn’t have a dog in his dorm, so he made a deal with one of Alyssa’s roommates to keep the dog at their place, but he had to take care of it.
“He would go to practice and then bring us food for dinner, and we would watch a movie. We became best friends. One day I came home, and he was moving all of his stuff in.”
Alyssa’s roommates liked to smoke marijuana, and Aaron would join them. Alyssa told him, “I don’t think you’re supposed to be smoking.” And he said, “Whatever, I do it all the time.”
“He was very insecure about his schoolwork,” she said. “He used to brag about being an honor student in high school and then when it came to writing his papers he’d say, ‘Oh I got a tutor for that.’” She encouraged him to write his next paper without help, which he took as a challenge, so he did it. “I thought it was very well written,” she said. “He had taken the time to put the effort into it. Aaron was so proud of it.”
Then one of her roommates got a hold of it. “She kind of mocked him. I could see on Aaron’s face how much it hurt him, like, ‘This is why I don’t try.’
“He didn’t like to be in vulnerable positions,” she said. “He didn’t show that side of himself. Even though he came off as confident, he didn’t really like people to know him.”
Aaron often used her computer. One night she came home late and discovered the Internet search history had been deleted. She thought that was strange, because she didn’t believe Aaron had anything to hide. She asked Aaron why he erased what he had been looking at.
“I don’t want you to see the porn,” Aaron joked.
Alyssa figured out how to undo what he had deleted. “I saw that he was looking at a gay porn site,” she said. “It hurt me at the time because I was absolutely in love with him, but at first I didn’t question him about it because I thought it wasn’t my place.”
Then one afternoon she gave Aaron a ride to practice and she mentioned it. Aaron said that he had been forwarded a site from another football player but he never watched it.
“I didn’t question him again, because I didn’t want to believe that he watched it and I didn’t want to go there,” she said.
One evening Aaron left his phone in the living room after going to bed. When his phone rang, she looked at it. She and Aaron often went through each other’s phones—Aaron didn’t have a lock on his—and she began scrolling through his text messages.
“It was a conversation with a male,” she told me. “I started reading through it. They were talking about meeting up, and it was a little bit sexual,” she said. The next day she asked him about it. He just took the phone and locked it and never brought it up again.
“There were times where I felt he almost opened up to me about what was going on with him, because he trusted me, but he didn’t want to hurt me. It sucked, because I loved him.”
Aaron said he wanted to get Alyssa pregnant.
“I laughed at him like he was crazy,” she said. “He really wanted a family.”
“One of the reasons I want to be with you,” he told her, “is because you’re somebody who keeps me out of trouble. I’m afraid that when I make it and when I get a lot of money, I won’t know what to do,” he said.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“You don’t know and see that side of me,” he said. “I love drugs too much.”
“Aaron,” she said, “you are going to have a decision to make. Drugs are going to be there, but I am not going to be someone who keeps you off of that. You are going to have to want that.”
MY COUSIN ARRANGED A graduation party for Aaron at a family member’s house, but Aaron refused to invite our mother. After the party was over, he drove to our mother’s house to ask her to deposit the checks he’d received as gifts.
“Are you kidding me?” my mom told Aaron. “You didn’t invite me to your graduation party and you expect me to help you? No way.”
Aaron kicked the side of our mother’s car. She called the police and then quickly hung up. When an officer phoned back, my mother and Aaron had both cooled down and she told the officer that she was in an argument with her son but they would handle it. The police never came.
A few days later, I caught Aaron smoking marijuana with some of his old friends. “Aaron, you can’t smoke weed and be a college football player,” I told him. “You get drug tested. These guys you are with have nothing to lose.”
“I pick and choose my own friends,” Aaron said. He carried on the conversation as if there were nothing wrong with what he was doing.
Chapter 12
FALL 2007
GAME DAYS WERE SPECIAL.
In the morning, before we left for the stadium, I’d watch ESPN in my hotel room. I couldn’t wait to hear about Florida. I’d call Aaron and he’d be in his hotel room doing the same thing. He would joke with me that UConn would never get mentioned on ESPN, and that some of his teammates didn’t even know UConn had a football team.
Then late in the 2007 season, our team jumped Florida in the rankings. We were No. 16 and the Gators fell to No. 18. I pointed this out to Aaron one November morning.
“Holy cow, D, you guys are really ranked higher than us,” he said. “What conference do you play in again?” We both cracked up laughing. We both knew the Southeastern Conference (SEC) schedule was tougher than ours in the Big East.
“Good luck, I love you,” I’d say at the end of our conversation. He’d say it back and we’d make arrangements to speak again that night.
As a freshman, Aaron played in all thirteen games. He had 9 receptions for 151 yards and scored 2 touchdowns.
SHORTLY AFTER THE SEASON ended, Aaron called me.
“D, I want to transfer,” he said.
“What’s the reason, Aaron?” I asked.
“I want to go to UConn,” he said.
“Aaron, you played as a freshman at Florida,” I said. “Why would you want to transfer?”
“I just want to come home,” he said.
“Why?” I asked.
“I’m not getting the ball,” he said.
Shortly after our conversation he went to Coach Meyer’s office and told him he wanted to transfer.
&nb
sp; Coach Meyer explained to Aaron that his future in Gainesville was bright and that he would receive more playing time the following fall. But Aaron was adamant: he wanted out of Florida.
After several hours in Coach Meyer’s office, Aaron called me.
“Coach Meyer said I was an amazing player,” Aaron said. “He told me I did a great job as a freshman and that I was a great team player.”
“Aaron, that’s good,” I said. “What did you say?”
“I said I didn’t come to Florida to be a team player,” Aaron said. “I told him I could be a team player anywhere in the country. I came to Florida to get the ball.”
Aaron told me that several assistant coaches had also talked to him, telling him that it was in his best interest to remain in Gainesville.
Two days later, Aaron called me again. “D, I’m going to stay.”
“In all honesty, I think this is the smartest decision,” I said. “You guys are stacked. You will have a good chance to play for the national championship next season.”
For a sixth time, Aaron had changed his mind. He was going to remain a Gator.
Chapter 13
SUMMER 2008
IN THE SUMMER OF 2008, I flew down south to spend time with Aaron and work out with the team. It was my first time on campus since moving my brother into his dorm eighteen months earlier. Aaron couldn’t wait to introduce me to the players and his coaches, and give me a tour of the campus and the football facilities.
The first place he brought me was to the stadium: I had never seen a structure so massive. He told me to touch the grass. I laughed and bent down and felt the short-cut grass just like he had when he first visited. He was right: it felt like carpet.
For the workout, we ran gassers—we sprinted across the field and back several times—as their strength coach exhorted everyone to pick up the pace. I struggled to keep up with the speed of the Florida athletes.
Afterward, Aaron and I walked to the practice field to continue working with backup quarterback Cam Newton and cornerback Joe Hayden—both future NFL first-round draft picks.
First, Aaron and Joe raced forty yards. They tied. Then I challenged Aaron to a race. As we neared the finish line, he looked back at me with his smile. He beat me by two yards and made it look easy as I strained to keep up.
Then I caught a few passes from Cam while Joe covered me. Aaron watched from the side and then did a few reps against Joe. I had never seen such raw talent.
Once we finished, we walked outside the stadium to where Aaron and his teammates had parked their scooters.
“Okay, hold on tight,” he said. “There are a lot of sand patches around and if we hit one we could go down.” He said he had fallen a few times.
That was enough for me not to want to hop on.
“D, I am joking,” he said. “Get on, stop being a baby. I will drive slow.”
Never topping 15 miles per hour, we motored to his dorm. I was terrified, wrapping my arms around his waist.
He introduced me to his suitemate, Riley Cooper, a wide receiver on the team. We walked through their joint bathroom and back to Aaron’s room. Aaron had his Cars bedding set—the same one my mother bought for him at Walmart the day we moved him in. He was so thrilled to have Cars blankets and sheets. It reminded me that Aaron, deep inside, was still a little kid.
“Soooo, there’s only one bed?” I said.
He put his hand on top of his head and started rubbing his hair while looking around the room. I could tell it hadn’t dawned on him to figure out sleeping arrangements.
“You could sleep here, D,” he said, pointing to the floor. He then sprawled down on it. “D, it’s comfortable down here,” he said, smiling. “And it’s nice and cool. It’s hot here in Florida. Remember, heat rises so now you don’t have to worry about getting hot at night.”
I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Oh wait,” he said and then ran into the bathroom. I thought he was going to ask Riley for an air mattress, but Aaron came back with several clean white towels. “You can put these down on the floor as your mattress,” he said.
He left again and then returned like he had saved the day. In his hands, he now had a bigger towel. “D, you can use this as your blanket,” he said. That night, underneath the long white towel and looking at my uncovered toes below, I shivered in the air-conditioning. I didn’t care. I was just happy to be with my brother again.
THE NEXT DAY AARON gave me a tour of the football facility. We chatted for a few minutes with Tim Tebow, who was watching game tape in a film room, and Aaron introduced me to his position coach, John Hevesy, who had us stand side by side because he thought we looked like twins.
We then met the graduate assistants on staff. I wanted to pursue coaching, and the GAs were generous enough to answer my questions. As we were talking, Coach Urban Meyer stepped out of his office.
Coach Meyer told us to take a seat in his office. From behind his desk, he spoke with a bluntness that caught me by surprise. “Aaron will either be the best tight end to ever play this game, or I fear he will spend the rest of his life in prison,” he said. “I’m worried about the people he hangs out with outside of the program. DJ, I know you want to become a coach. After you are done playing, why don’t you come down here and we’ll try to find something for you so you can look after Aaron.”
I told Coach Meyer that Aaron and I would talk about it, but I couldn’t uproot my life and move to Florida to be a babysitter. I thanked Coach Meyer for his honesty before leaving his office.
Once we were outside, I said, “What the fuck is going on, Aaron? You need to straighten up. Are you an idiot?”
“Nothing is wrong, D,” Aaron said. “You don’t understand.”
For the rest of my stay, Aaron became more distant. But I still tried to connect with him.
“What happened at the bar last year?” I asked. I knew our mom had to hire a lawyer for him after a fight.
“I was out with Tebow and everything was fine and someone said they would take care of the two drinks I had. As we were leaving, some guy who worked there started yelling at me and then grabbed me. He said, ‘You need to pay for your drinks.’ I told him someone else was paying and Tebow even offered to pay for the drinks to calm him down. And the guy said to me, ‘No, you’re paying for these drinks.’
“And then I walked away and the guy bumped into me. He kept brushing his chest up against me, acting like a tough guy. So I punched him in the ear. I shouldn’t have done it. It was stupid.”
When I left, I hoped that Aaron would straighten up.
THE WEEK BEFORE FLORIDA’S 2008 season opener, my mom told me that Aaron had failed a drug test and wouldn’t be playing against Hawaii. I had thought he was sitting out because of a hamstring injury. So I called Aaron.
“Look at the opportunity you have,” I said. “What are you doing?”
“It’s going to be fine,” Aaron said. “I’m going to be back next week. Hawaii stinks anyway.”
“Aaron, enough is enough,” I said. “I love you, but you have got to grow up.”
“I know, D,” Aaron mumbled. “I know.”
I hung up the phone wondering one thing: was Aaron listening to anyone?
I THOUGHT THE SUSPENSION would scare Aaron enough so it wouldn’t happen again.
For several months, Aaron quit smoking marijuana. “But he would wake up in the middle of the night having a nightmare because he thought he smoked,” Alyssa said. “He would jump and then wake me up and say, ‘Did I smoke? Did I?’”
The coaches at Florida started paying more attention to Aaron outside of the facility walls. During his sophomore year, Aaron essentially moved in with his position coach, John Hevesy. Hevesy wanted Aaron to experience the warmth of his loving home. Aaron grew to admire him.
Aaron appeared to be on the right path. He had a strong performance in the 2009 national title game against Oklahoma, in which Florida rolled to a 24–14 victory. A few minutes after the final whistle, Aa
ron ran over to our mother and me to give us a hug. I thought that Aaron’s struggles were a thing of the past. For the first time in a long time, the wall he had put up against our mother had been lowered.
AARON’S FINAL COLLEGE GAME was on January 1, 2010, at the Allstate Sugar Bowl in New Orleans, where Florida defeated Cincinnati, 51–24.
I met with Coach Meyer and another assistant before the game at the team hotel near the Superdome.
“Aaron needs to go to the NFL,” a Gator assistant told me, “because he may never make it out of Florida if he doesn’t leave now.”
The coaches were worried that Aaron would miss his entire senior season because of his excessive marijuana use and the likelihood of more failed drug tests. All I knew was one thing: if Aaron wanted to smoke, he was going to smoke. Period. End of story.
Following the bowl game, Aaron and I flew out to California, where he began training for the NFL Combine, where NFL teams evaluate draft-eligible players. But then he hurt his back during workouts.
Aaron had experienced recurring back problems at Florida. He had received seven epidurals and there were times he could barely walk. Other times his back hurt so badly he had difficulty breathing. Aaron never wanted to show that he was in pain—a lesson from our father.
The back injury he suffered in California meant he couldn’t participate in any of the physical tests held at the NFL Combine in Indianapolis, where NFL prospects showcase their physical ability every February. Prior to the start of the Combine, Aaron received another epidural so he could walk normally and meet with teams.
A few weeks later, with his back pain relieved, Aaron took part in Florida’s Pro Day, an event where NFL coaches and scouts came to campus to evaluate the Gators’ top prospects.
Afterward, he called me.
The Truth About Aaron Page 6