Prime Choice

  I stepped out and said, “I guess the world knows.”

  “And by the look in your bloodshot eyes, you’re not dealing with it well.”

  “It’s not like I’m some big Christian or anything, Pastor Monroe, but I have been talking to God more lately. I honestly don’t understand why He would allow me to blow the big game. I thought He was blessing me by setting me up to be the hero, and I turned out to be the zero. What does He want from me?”

  “He wants you to do just what you’re doing now.”

  “He wants me to be angry and bitter?” I asked.

  “No. He wants you to come to Him with your cares, problems and concerns. He wants you to bring your all to Him. God can do anything but fail, Perry.”

  “Pastor Monroe, if that’s true, then how come He failed me last night?”

  “Because you lost the game last night, you think God failed you? Son, you are the most sought-after player in the state of Georgia and as far as football is concerned, you have such a big platform there. God could be using this moment in your life to win more souls for Him. You say you’ve been talking to the Lord a lot, but you gotta give a little bit more. You’ve got to read His Word for yourself and see what He really expects from us. I’m not saying he doesn’t care about football, but everything is supposed to be done to His glory. Just remember God loves you, son, and He cares about all the things you care about. But more than any of the things in your heart, He wants your desire to be for Him. Only then are you truly pleasing Him and seeking true purpose.”

  7

  Hearing I’m Great

  Yes! Things are finally turning around, I thought to myself as I waved good-bye to my mom. We were at the Augusta airport. I was on my way to Miami via Atlanta. It would be my first recruiting visit unaccompanied by my parents.

  Sitting in first class, I knew this had to be the life. The seats were wider, and every few minutes the stewardess was coming to ask me if I wanted something else. When I got off the plane and walked to Baggage Claim, I spotted a big sign. It was actually a big jersey that had my number on it. It also said “Skky” on the back of the jersey. All I could do was smile. I saw two other guys waving me down, standing with a man dressed in orange and green. The coach introduced himself first.

  He reached for my hand and said, “Coach Sambo Nick, offensive coordinator for University of Miami. We talked on the phone. It’s good to have all three of you guys here.”

  “Thank you, sir,” I said, as I saw the other two dudes peeping me out.

  “Wow, you’re a tall joker,” this dude with dreads and huge hands said to me.

  Automatically, I slapped hands with the guy that was talking. He introduced himself as Deuce Malet, Florida’s top quarterback from Jacksonville. Beside him was a guy with gold teeth. I was glad my mom didn’t come. She was so conservative and wouldn’t have liked all that gold shining in this guy’s mouth. Shoot, she’d probably kill me if she caught me wearin’ a grill. Homeboy looked cool, though. He introduced himself as Pony Boy Jones.

  “Yeah, my boy back home was telling me about you. He’s a DB. Says you the man on defense,” I explained.

  “What’s his name? I might know him, too,” Pony Boy told me.

  I laughed, “Naw, naw, he’s not on your level. You probably don’t know his name. He knows yours, though. Twenty interceptions last year and you’re already on pace to break that. You’re from Tampa, right?”

  Pony Boy nodded.

  Coach Nick said, “Perry, your plane was the last one to arrive. Now that I’ve got my recruits, let us be on our way. I’ll show you some of Miami.”

  Soon as we stepped outside, the rain was awful. We didn’t have far to walk. We headed straight over to the Hummer limousine. The orange car was stretched pretty.

  “We ridin’ in style,” Pony Boy said.

  Deuce got in the car next. I looked back at Coach and motioned for him to go on, but he wouldn’t move until I got in. The offensive coordinator was serving us. It was nice to feel really wanted.

  Though it was raining, we were driven straight to their stadium. The three of us got on the elevator with the coach and we went up to a suite. A massive spread of food was set out. Coach introduced us to a defensive position coach, a few hostesses and a secretary. Everyone was off the chain nice.

  We watched highlights of Miami and then they incorporated something so dope, I would never forget it. Miami was losing to their in-state and conference rival, the Florida State Seminoles, on the tape we were watching. All of a sudden, they transposed Pony Boy making an interception with only one minute left on the clock. Offense came onto the field. Deuce threw a long bomb to me for a touchdown.

  We didn’t know how they did the virtual reality thing, but the three of us got excited. Miami won the game. It was amazing.

  Coach Nick said, “All right, so you boys think this is cool. Well, that doesn’t have to be something we created. Sign here, and it can actually happen next year. We play freshman at Miami. Being members of the ACC and being on the coastal side with Virginia Tech and Georgia Tech, we have to take studs players that can make an impact for us right away. If you feel like you’re ready to come to school and perform like that taped showed, we’re ready to have all three of you guys committed before the end of this weekend.”

  After we were charged and full, Coach Nick took us on a tour of the facility. Again, it was thundering and lighting everywhere. It felt like a real hurricane was on the horizon. But Coach Nick wasn’t the least bit concerned about danger.

  When the lighting struck again Coach stopped moving and said, “Around here we believe that when a severe storm comes any time we have recruits, that is just the Earth’s way of saying, ‘Sign those guys.’”

  Coach pointed at me. Then he pointed at Deuce. Lastly, he pointed at Pony Boy. Three black boys from three different parts of the South in front of the white offensive coordinator who was looking at us as if we were the best things he’d ever seen in his life. He gave us a vibe like he just had to sign us. I knew I was good, but looking in his eyes and seeing the way he talked so passionately about us coming to Miami made me think I was great.

  He then took us to a room where they had pictures posted of all the former Miami players who were now playing in the pros. He left us alone for a second to take a call from the head coach.

  Pony Boy spoke first. As his eyes glistened he said, “To be honest, I was thinking about signing with Florida State, but they’re making it hard for a brotha. Look at this wall. All these dudes playin’ now in the NFL.”

  “Ah, come on, man,” Deuce reminded him, “Florida State’s got a lot of players that’s on the next level, too now.”

  “I know, I know, but I’ve been on a ton of recruiting trips and one was Florida State. No one has roasted me like this yet. I heard they got a big party back at the hotel waiting on us. They gon’ set it off,” Pony Boy responded.

  “Y’all ready to sign?” Coach Nick joked as he came back into the room.

  We got word it was a Category 2 storm headed our way. So we hurried over to the head coach’s mansion to meet him. Because of the weather, we didn’t stay long. He just told us he’d meet us the next day and to have lots of fun meeting all of his players.

  When we got to our hotel, the three of us were sharing a suite. The suite had a living area and a kitchenette but there were three bedrooms. We went up to the penthouse, which overlooked the water. Coach Nick told us there were plenty of Miami tapes we could check out near the DVD player.

  Coach Nick said, “Enjoy your night with the players. Don’t have too much fun, though. We have an early start in the morning to talk to the school president and to meet the academic advisor.”

  He wasn’t gone five minutes when our door was bum-rushed by ten of their starting players, a whole bunch of honeys, a big boom box and snacks. The party was on. Pony Boy was groovin’. Deuce was trying to meet every player. I was just watching the overzealous scene and wondered if I fit in.

&nb
sp; “Perry,” Pony Boy shouted out, “I’m sold for real now. I’ma have to come to Miami.”

  It was good, clean fun. I got my groove on stepping to the left and jamming to the right for a bit. Meeting the players was cool. I’d watched some of them on TV for the past four years and meeting them in person was a high point. I tried asking the players how they liked the school academically. Quickly, I found they wanted to relax, not talk about books.

  I knew I’d always have respect for the University of Miami football program and I was grateful that they wanted to bring me in. I knew I was only seeing a small representation of what life would be like to sign there. But I realized Miami wasn’t my speed. The city had too much other stuff going on that could easily distract me, if you know what I mean. Miami is one big party all the time! Though the program turned out studs in the game of football, I wanted to come away from college being a stud at life. I wasn’t quite sure Miami could do that for me because I knew I wasn’t strong enough to resist the fun. Although I left the weekend not committing either way, I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be back that far South.

  It was report card day and a lot of the players were either happy or sad. We were dressing out for practice and many were going around comparing grades. I didn’t see what the purpose for all that was. The guys should have known what they we’re getting before today, anyway. However, there seemed to be a whole lot of disappointed people around me.

  Damarious came over to me and whispered, “I need to keep a 2.0 to have a chance of getting to play in college. I got two D’s, two C’s and one A—in PE—and an F in U.S. history. I’m not making it.”

  That class was crazy. The subject was not that tough. The textbook said we just need to have an understanding of the three different branches of government. However, our teacher added extras. He wanted us to know names of all the U.S. senators, all the congressman, all the judges, all the president’s cabinet members and a few members of the White House staff. He was challenged by some of the parents who were upset about the extra load on us; but the school upheld Mr. Crompwell’s decision to stretch our skills.

  I remember him saying, “To be really good at U.S. history, you have to go beyond what the books say you need to know.”

  I didn’t particularly care about being good at U.S. history, but I did want to maintain my A, so I buckled down and memorized the material. Looking at my buddy, I knew I had to do something to help.

  “Aw, come on D, man,” I said as I put my hand on his back, trying to cheer him up. “You can pull up your grades to make your average at the end of the year be a 2.0. Don’t sweat this.”

  “I wish I was more like you. What you got—two A’s and some B’s? I know them tough AP classes are givin’ you a fit.”

  I tried to step away and place my report card in my locker. I didn’t need anyone seeing my grades. We weren’t here to compare ourselves.

  “What you got, Perry?” Damarius asked again, this time as if he was mad at me. “Hey, y’all. Perry walking around here checking out everybody else’s grades. Let’s look at his. What you got, a C? Trying to act like my F is all horrible. For you a C is just as bad. Why you ain’t showing your report card off?”

  “I got it, man!” Cole shouted as he snatched my report card and waved it in the air.

  I didn’t even want to try to go there with them jokers. This wasn’t about me. However, they started chanting, “C, C, C.” Where they got that from was beyond me. C’s weren’t bad. It wasn’t my grade, either, though.

  Cole looked at the card and said, “Snap. All A’s. You the man.”

  “He got all A’s, and he’s got them hard classes,” a player called out.

  I noticed Damarius jet out of the locker room. I got my helmet and jogged after him.

  “You didn’t have to embarrass me like that,” he said as I caught up to him.

  “I wasn’t tying to show off my report card. It wasn’t about any of that. Cole took it. I wasn’t trying to let folks know because my grades are my business. Nobody needs to know.”

  “Yeah, right, your name will be posted in the office on the Principal’s List,” Damarius said.

  “Like anyone reads that.” I popped him on his head for acting jealous. “Besides, boy, we need to pull up your grades. What do I need to do, D?”

  He turned around and asked, “You’ll help me?”

  I put my hand on his shoulder, and said, “Anything I can do, you know I will help you.”

  We hugged. As I lifted my arms, I knew he was my homeboy. I really cared about my friend and I cared about his future. I wanted to do what I could to help him achieve greatness.

  My parents were so pleased with how I did on my report card. When it came to my next recruiting visit, they once again allowed me to go by myself. I was headed to Duke University, in Durham, North Carolina.

  As we drove from the airport, I had to admit the beautiful scenery grabbed me. This time I was in a minivan with two other recruits. One was Jason Casey from the state of Alabama. He was the best kicker in the South. The other was Mannie Frost. He was a quarterback from North Carolina with curly red hair. The two white boys were friendly but kind of corky. I went to an all-black school, so most of the stuff they were talking about I couldn’t really relate to.

  So I just rode and gazed at the view from the interstate. I saw a lot of trees and a couple of farms. When we got close to Duke, Durham looked like a small town.

  We headed straight to the campus. Where were the brothers? I wondered. Duke had a big football game that day, against their rival school, the University of North Carolina. Though the school was nice and academically top-notch, I had to admit I saw no fire and passion among the players on either team. If this had been a basketball game, these would be the two schools to go to. Duke and UNC were arguably the best in the country. Problem was, it wasn’t basketball that I was trying to get a scholarship for.

  The game itself was brutal for the spectators to watch. Both Chapel Hill and Duke played horribly that game. Special teams couldn’t cover anybody, and neither team got good field position, or could even score. The kicker for Duke missed three that day, and that made Jason Casey, sitting beside me, so excited. He knew that he could make a difference at the school right away.

  Their quarterback also got sacked four times in the game, fumbled the ball twice, completed only six passes out of forty and had a pick. He gave a pitiful performance. Mannie Frost was also very elated and ready to commit. I had seen Mannie on tape and he had a good arm. Honestly, I could imagine him throwing the ball to me and making some different things happen.

  Duke wasn’t appealing to me. I had no clue what I was looking for, but at Duke I wasn’t finding it. The pace was way too slow. And for some that might be a good thing, but for me I needed a little bit more excitement.

  When the game was over, and Duke lost by ten, we just sat around waiting for dinnertime. I wasn’t going to be rude or anything, and tell the people, heck, no, I didn’t want to play at their school. I had to keep my options open. Every school in the ACC was top-notch. At Duke, I could certainly get a great education and that couldn’t be dismissed by any means. But I did have more in my heart for competing, and I just didn’t see them quite there yet. I didn’t have to play for the best school in the ACC where football was concerned, but I didn’t want to play for the worst, either. Duke needed more help than I could give them.

  Later I was sitting in the coach’s office waiting for him to finish with the press and come talk to me. His secretary said I could use the phone to pass some time. So I pulled out my cell and thought about calling a number of people. I was actually surprised at the number I dialed.

  When the sweet voice of Savoy Lee answered, I was glad.

  “I didn’t think you’d ever call. I come to your birthday party and you can’t even say thank you to a girl,” she teased.

  “So you know it’s me?” I was happy to hear her excitement.

  “Yeah, your number popped right up into
my phone. How you doing?”

  “Cool, I’m on a recruiting visit.”

  “Yeah, my brother is, too. Where are you? Are you guys together this time?”

  “Well, I’m at Duke.”

  She chuckled, “Duke, no, he’s definitely not there. Sax is at Florida State.”

  “I was at Miami last week,” I bragged, which was really weird, because I’d never bragged around Savoy. I didn’t want her to think that her brother was so much better than me. So I defended my schedule.

  She eased my mind. “It’s okay, Perry. I know you’re just as good as he is ... if not better.”

  “What did you say?” I asked.

  “Nope, I’m not saying it again. You heard me, but I don’t want you to use it against me when you see my brother next time, or I’ll have to deny it.” Her spunk was so enticing.

  I said, “Naw, Lee got skills.”

  “Mr. Modest, you do, too. I have seen some of your recent games.”

  “You have?”

  “Yeah, Sax has your tapes. He studies everybody. And some of the catches you make, like the one a couple of weeks ago where you dived over and then missed that last grab. You came closer than anyone has ever seen to making a catch like that. I just hated the game ended like that. “How are you holding up from it?”

  “I’m straight. I mean, it happens sometimes, right?” I had to be tough.

  “Perry, you can talk to me,” she pried. “You okay? The camera showed you on the sidelines after the game, and you were broken.”

  I laughed about my painful moment and said, “I was, but I can only admit that to you. Don’t you tell nobody, or I’ll have to deny that one.”

  “It was just one play. You’ve shown plenty of moves for schools. For real, stay up,” she encouraged.

  I heard people talking outside the door. “I think the coach is coming back. I just wanted to call and say hey.”

  “Glad you did. Where do you go next?”

  “Georgia Tech, I think.”