Authors: Jason B. Osoff
Guts vs Glory
GUTS VS GLORY
BY JASON B OSOFF
All Rights Reserved
Text Copyright © 2015
Editing by Dawn Osoff
WWW.FACEBOOK.COM/GUTSVSGLORY
To my friends and family for
all their support and encouragement. I could have done it without you, but it
would have been awfully hard.
As an athlete, you tend to remember important games
throughout your career. You remember your first game in high school, in
college and, if you’re lucky, the pros. You remember the game where you
broke records, the game when you were part of a championship team, and you even
remember your first big defeat. However, as the father of a young
athlete,
every
game your child plays in is memorable. I realized,
as I watched my son play his first game as a third grader, that it would be one
of the many games I would never forget. Even though his team lost, he was
smiling from ear to ear during the entire time. It reminded me of my many
games at East Whitaker and how much fun Mike and I had.
I first met Michael Upton in Kindergarten.
We knew we were meant to be best friends because he was the smallest kid in our
class and I was the biggest. The best part of our friendship was that we never
had to impress each other or do stupid things to get the other’s attention. We
were able to be who we were, without ever worrying about what the other person
thought. It was different when it came to others, though.
Going into our junior year of high
school, we spent most of our summer nights roaming the streets of downtown
Whitaker. We never broke any laws, and we always came home on time, so our
parents never really had to ask what we were up to. However, one night, we
were approached by some of our classmates. They pointed to a car parked on the
side of the road that had its windows down. They thought it would be funny to
grab and hide the laptop sitting obviously on the front seat. As we were
pondering the venture, someone mentioned that it wouldn’t be a crime because
the windows were open so the responsibility would fall on the owner. Since it
was only a prank and reasonably harmless, we were going to accept the challenge
in an effort to gain popularity going into the new school year. All we needed
to do was grab the computer, then put it back in the car somewhere less
obvious. Since there were two of us, and only one laptop, Mike decided that he
would grab the backpack in the back of the car so that we would both have
something to hide. Both windows were down so we boldly waked over to the car,
reached in, grabbed the items, took them out of the car and, as our hearts
stopped simultaneously, dropped them at our feet.
The other guys must have seen the
cops because as we made eye contact with the Becker County deputies, our new
friends were nowhere to be found. As soon as the officers told us to freeze, I
was done. I was the biggest kind in my class, so running was not my forte.
Honestly, I don’t remember ever running as a kid. I was even nice enough to
voluntarily lie down on my stomach with my hands behind my back so the officer
could quickly restrain me. Not Mike, though. He ran. He was fast and made it
really far. At that time, I had never seen someone run so fast. And, as
impressed as I was with his running, I was even more impressed with the tackle.
Out of nowhere, a Becker County
deputy, standing at nearly seven feet tall and weighing easily over 300 pounds,
stood right in his path. In that instant, it was speed versus strength. As
soon as they made contact, Mike’s forward momentum abruptly stopped and he was
quickly taken to the ground. Strength won. The officer never ran after him,
he just used his body size to his advantage and stopped him in his tracks,
taking him hard to the ground.
If we were to plan that night out
differently, we should’ve just laughed off the challenge and walked away.
Also, looking around for police probably would have been a good first step;
then again, we never were the smartest kids. Today, I don’t regret a single
thing. That was the incident that would change our lives forever.
We were literally right around the
corner from the Becker County Jail, so the ride in the plastic coated back seat
was quick. Mike asked me why I was grinning and if I realized that we would be
going to jail for what we did. I told him that if he had seen that officer’s
tackle, he would’ve been smiling too. Mike did make a good point about being
faster than the other cops who were chasing after him though, which then made
him grin as well.
Arriving at the Sheriff’s office,
we were gruffly escorted to the police desk by the deputies. There, our
fingerprints and pictures were taken. The big officer was curious why I was
still grinning for my mugshot. I told him that all I could think about was his
hit. My smile quickly vanished, though, when he informed us that we were both
being charged with felonies; facing the possibility of spending time in jail,
if not prison. Apparently, the car we were messing with belonged to the Becker
County Sheriff’s Department and was used for sting operations. Clearly, it was
a crime to take items from a car, even when the windows were left open. The
news got even worse when he told us that our parents were on their way to post
our bail.
I wasn’t afraid of what my parents
would do to me. I was glad that I wouldn’t be sitting in a jail cell overnight
and I knew that no matter what punishment my parents piled on, I deserved it.
My parents were fair people who were always there for me. I felt like I
disappointed them, however; like they had tried their hardest to raise a good
kid, but they still couldn’t keep me out of jail. I’ve done crazy, risky
things in my life before, but this was the first time the law was involved.
Our parents all arrived at the same
time. As they walked in, no eye contact was made and no words were exchanged.
The only discussion in those few minutes was from the deputy explaining what
transpired and the possible consequences. Soon, we were on our way home. My
mom spent the entire ride telling me how disappointed and upset she was at me.
She thought she had raised me better than to steal stuff just to impress some kids
from school. As bad as I felt, I was more afraid of my dad’s reaction. As my
mom was yelling at me, he didn’t say a work. I know his wrath would come soon…but
when?
After she was done, it was my dad’s
turn. He produced the real yelling I had been waiting for. My dad wasn’t much
for yelling, so I knew I messed up really bad. A few minutes later, my parents
had even more bad news for me. They agreed that they weren’t going to punish
me for what I did; which sounded great until they added that they would instead
stand behind whatever punishment the judge had for me. A week before the start
of the new school year, we would have to go to court for the crimes we
committed, with the real possibility of a long prison sentence.
That night, I hardly slept. Every
time I closed my eyes, I imagined what my life would be like as a prisoner.
Whenever I opened my eyes, I felt my room caving in and imagined what living in
a jail cell would feel like. Then I thought about my life after prison. I
wouldn’t have a high school diploma, so I wouldn’t be able to find a job. I
saw myself as a 30 year old, living in my parents’ basement, selling magazine
subscriptions door-to-door. I wasn’t the best kid, but I knew my life had more
potential than that.
We weren’t the best students. How
we made it to the 11th grade without repeating a year was a surprise even to
us. Simply put, we didn’t like school. We always felt we had better things to
do. School, however, would be a blessing compared to the option of spending
time behind bars.
Court was very intimidating. The
judge looked massive as he sat behind his giant desk. To make matters worse,
his desk was elevated so that he would have to look down on us as he spoke.
When he talked, he let us know how serious an environment his court room was
and made us realize that we should take this trial very seriously.
The judge explained to us that he
read our statements, as well as the police report. He understood that we took
the items out of the car due to peer-pressure and were going to return them
promptly, however, the fact still remained that we unlawfully took items out of
a car on our own free-will. Since the items had a value of over $1,000, the
judge could have easily charged us with felonious larceny from an automobile.
The maximum sentence could be up to five years in prison and a $10,000 fine.
After the judge gave us a few
minutes to sweat it out, his tone changed. He knew that neither one of us had a
criminal record, and he accepted the fact that we were simply dumb high school
students who gave in to peer-pressure
way
too easily. He decided that he
wasn’t going to charge us with a felony, but he couldn’t just let our crime go
unpunished. In an effort to keep us off the streets at night, the judge
required us to join an after-school program. We were expected to attend the
program on a daily basis and would not be allowed to show up late. If we
didn’t fulfill those requirements, we would be sentenced to two years in jail.
It seemed like a good deal. Rather
than going to jail and ruining our lives, we were given a second chance. But
then it dawned on us; the school we despised so much would be our new prison.
Rather than leaving at 2:30 with the rest of the students, or choosing to skip
school at least once a month, we were required to stay after school every day.
To make matters worse, it wasn’t a simple hang out in the gym for a couple of
hours; we were required to join an activity that we weren’t familiar with and
work with students that we probably didn’t like.
Not only would school be our new
prison, but the teachers would be our wardens, requiring us to report to the
judge on a regular basis. The other students would become our prison guards,
making our lives a living hell as they no doubt enjoyed the after school
programs that they voluntarily attended, ostracizing us because they would be
far more talented than us, no matter what program we chose. Jail was quickly
sounding like a better option.