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Authors: Stephanie Perry Moore

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BOOK: Prime Choice
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My mom walked up behind me and said, “Oh, yeah. His mom and I are Links sisters together, though his mom is an AKA, she wants him to be presented to society like his sister will be. Now you won't be the only big athlete in this program.”
Saxon didn't even acknowledge me, which was cool. I ain't wanna speak to the brotha no way. Justin saw us looking at each other in a cold way.
“Who is that? You know him?” Justin questioned.
“This football player from South Carolina who thinks he's all that.”
Justin joked, “Oh, I thought
you
were, Perry Skky.”
“Ha, ha, ha. Very funny!” I said to my friend as I punched him in the arm. “Trust me, my ego's nothing like that jerk.”
We learned that each of our five main sessions would be given by a local fraternity, first up was Kappa Alpha Psi, the Nupes, as they called themselves, wearing crimson and cream. They were teaching us about goal setting.
Mr. King took the mic and said, “How many of you know what you wanna be when you grow up?” Only Saxon raised his hand. Why wasn't I surprised? “Yes, young man, tell me your name.”
“My name's Saxon Lee, and I know I'm gonna be a pro football player. I'm already on track for that. Best-rated player in the state of South Carolina right now. On course to set records for my high school and the state. I'm being highly recruited, and I will be able to choose my own college. I plan to play for three years, come out early and be in the pros before I'm twenty-one.”
“Wow. You'll need some training to set those goals. We have another football player in here, I think, from the state of Georgia, my state. He here?” Mr. King asked.
I raised my hand slightly and nodded my head.
Mr. King asked, “So, do you share his same vision? You wanna play in the NFL, too, I'm sure.”
“That's an option, sir. I don't know at this time.”
“The rest of you in this room are unsure about what you want to be when you grow up? I want to challenge you. It's great when brothers have a dream. Something that we can work toward. Most of us don't do that. Sports seems like a road that sets brothers on a course to where they hope to go.” A lot of us were nodding our heads. “But, Mr. Lee, I suggest you also choose another course of action. Getting in the NFL or NBA has many odds stacked against you. If you don't make it, what else are you doing to prepare for another dream? Make sure you choose a major in school so you will have something to fall back on. You could get hurt, you could get injured or you may not be as good in college. Now, I'm not saying that any of these will happen, but a good man is always prepared and has another plan in case his first one didn't pan out. And a great man is able to adjust midstream, and have a bright future regardless of whether it works out his way. But to all of you, it's okay if you don't know where you wanna go. We just need to work on it.”
Mr. King told us to start thinking about some of our strengths, start thinking about careers that interest us and start spending time talking to folks we knew who are already in those jobs. Sort of interviewing them to see if it was something that we would like to do. We talked about setting realistic timeframes, sticking to small goals to actually achieve the big ones. I really learned a lot from this session. I hated to give it to my moms, but one thing I came away with from the Goal-Setting Workshop was that in order to achieve anything, you gotta see something, and then set steps to actually achieve it.
Though I didn't know what my life purpose was yet, I left that meeting knowing I would make it my business to find out so that I wouldn't spend my years doing something that wouldn't bring me to my goal. But that I would be making every day, every moment and every step count toward the bigger goal I was trying to achieve. Yeah. Being a Beaux seemed like it would be okay after all.
 
In the locker room, I could not have felt any worse. We'd just lost our first game of the season. The score was 17-14. We had the chance to win. We were on the 2-yard line, first and two, with thirty-two seconds left. Coach had called a timeout and set a plan to put the ball in my hands. Most coaches' plays indicate that in that situation you run.
Coach Robinson chose to give it to me, and I dropped the ball. That would've been okay 'cause we still had time. However, the defending player from North Augusta caught the ball in the air. It was an interception. They won because of my mistake.
Choked up, I placed a towel over my head in the locker room and just let out what I was feeling.
Damarius came up to me and said, “Aye, man. I let a long pass go when we had them 10-14 and the boy ran sixty yards down the field and scored. I know how you feel. It'll be all right.”
The kicker came up to me weeping as well. Saying that he had lost the game for us. Said that there were two field goals he's missed. “I shouldn't have missed those field goals, Perry. They were easy shots, and I missed them both. Those six points are the difference in the game. It's not your fault.”
Coach Robinson made his way over to me. “Perry, son, take the towel off your head. Come on in my office so we can talk.”
I wasn't moving, though. All this was too hard to bear. To a lot of people, it was just a football game. But to me, missing that ball, letting it slip through my hands like that, losing the game for my team made me realize that football was more than a game to me. I had pride in what I do, and passion when I do it. It was a game I loved. And I loved playing for those guys. I loved winning for those guys. I loved that the coach believed in me enough to put the ball in my hands. Why'd I have to mess up?
No, I couldn't move at that moment when Coach Robinson wanted to say whatever he had to. I didn't know what he was planning to say to cheer me up, but I didn't wanna hear it. There was nothing that could be said.
“I should've ran it,” my coach told me, leaning down real close to my towel so that everyone in the whole locker room couldn't hear.
That confession was only for me. I still didn't take the towel off my head. I felt him touch me on the shoulder, hit my locker and walk away.
 
Much later I came on out of the locker room and into the crowd.
My dad walked up to me and said, “Son, if it wasn't for you and your earlier catches they wouldn't even have been in the position to win tonight. We'll talk about the rest of this when we get home.”
The news media wanted to ask me questions, but dad walked me past them and got me to my car. He took my keys from my limp hand and drove me home.
“Son, Cole came up to me and told me how broken up you were in the locker room. Now, I wanna tell you a couple of things here. You gon' be playing with the big dogs in college next year. When you're a superstar player, you're gonna have criticism. You will have more accolades; however, when you gamble with football, you can get burned. But you can't wear your emotions on your sleeve. You can't let people see you cry and be sad. Not your teammates, man. They look up to you for leadership.”
My dad went on to fuss about the coach's play calling and time management. Though the coach did admit to me personally he made wrong calls and the players admitted they thought they lost the game, I wasn't about passing blame. I had it in my hands. Nine out of ten times, I would've caught the sucker. But that was the one time when I dropped it and the defender was there to catch it.
This was taking away our hopes for a national championship. That was probably why this loss hurt so bad. Now, we were gonna need some help from other schools to lose, too. You never want to count on anything like that and I'd messed that up for my team.
Though my dad was talking through the rest of the drive home, I wasn't listening. When I finally got home, my mom was waiting at the door with wide-open arms. I just fell into them with red eyes, wishing that I was her little boy again so I wouldn't have to deal with big-boy problems.
“What I tell you, Son? You gotta shake it off. You gotta get tough. I guess the one good thing about this is that it's showing you how much you care about football.”
Later that night, I couldn't sleep much.
 
The next day I couldn't get away from it, either: replays on the local news, newspaper articles, my teammates calling. I couldn't understand why God would let something like that happen. I was a good guy.
Driving around all that Sunday, I couldn't believe where I ended up: at church. I saw Pastor Monroe out by his car, and I turned into the parking lot right beside him.
“Hey, son. I heard you had a rough game last night. Sorry about that,” my pastor said as he opened my car door.
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
Y
es! 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.
“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.
BOOK: Prime Choice
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