To live your Dream

It was the start of a new week at the University of Washington. A new week, that was all, nothing more nothing less. It was September and for some reason the summer wasn’t gone yet. It was my first year there, I came to play football, and the college life was everything but the same as high school. That took a lot of getting used to, for everyone. I was just another fast black kid from Arizona who ran track and football and went off to college out of state just to get away from home finally. In college being an athlete means one thing; giving everything you had to that one sport, and that one sport only, no matter what it took. As true as that is it didn’t affect me much, that’s not what this story is about it’s about my teammate/roommate, my friend. How college football for him just wasn’t what he expected.

He got up, half sleep, wearing a grey shirt that said “Husky Football” moaning and rubbing his eyes. By the looks of it anyone could tell he had a rough night. He too was a freshman at University of Washington. He was a high school friend of mine; another black boy from “AZ” his name was Marc Anthony. Marc was a normal athlete, he went to school, worked out, partied on the weekend, but always made football his top priority. He did his best to stay focused. For him high school was good, fun times with plenty of accomplishments, great memories, a special girlfriend, and everyday teenage drama but he was excited and ready for the world of college. It was going to be a typical Monday for him, two early classes and then practice. So his day began. He stood there in the entryway of what he believed would be the best part of his life, but he began to see that what he imagined was nothing but a dream.

Practice that day was just the same as any other, hard, but that’s how all practices were. Always. The green practice field, smelled of freshly cut grass, we all stunk like boys, but that was normal, you get used to it. We were all tired and drained by the hot sun, to think summer was still here in September. We all practiced together as a team but each side had their own practice time during the day. Finally it was the defense’s turn to practice. This was our favorite part; while defense practiced we got a little break.

“Man, I got a lot of work to do,” Marc said talking to himself, but I heard.

“I know, I have so much school stuff to finish, but I’m tired now.” I replied.

“You a little punk Steven! We haven’t even done nothing, you’re always crying,” he said, and he pushed me like it would toughen me up.

“Don’t act like you aren’t tired. You complain more than I do so don’t talk about me. It’s hot out here, so I’m tired,” I stated contradicting his remark.

“See I told you. You a cry baby,” he put on a sad face, imitating me, and kept saying, “Boo-Hoo! It’s hot out here.”

“All right Marc I see how you are,” I told him and I hit him.

Now us football boys we don’t take the bullying, and us being roommates we always had to settle things as they came. So we began wrestling on the field. That is when coach got mad.

Coach yelled, “Marc Anthony, this is no time to argue and play around! If you practiced as much as you goofed off, then maybe you’d gain a few more yards! Now get out here and run that last play again, and hustle!”

So we all hustled back onto the field, expecting the rest of practice to be harder than it already was.

“C’mon man, stop messing up, because if we have to run after practice, I’m gon’ beat you up AGAIN when we get to the locker room,” I laughing, I thought it was funny.

“Yea man, alright, if you say so. We’ll see, “ he responded to me in disbelief.

“No! Both of you be quiet. Y’all always getting us in trouble,” announced Doobie, older teammates.

Now Doobie, he’s hard to explain. Doobie was a junior, he was good, and he really was. The thing about him he was just mean, he thought he was better than us all because he was older. He didn’t even play that much to tell you the truth. He was a snobby suck up who thought he was part of the group, but he wasn’t.

So me and Marc both shouted, “Doobie, Shut Up!”

By the end of practice coaches were upset, and you could see it on their faces. We were in trouble, but Marc was the one who was punished.

“Marc Anthony, come here for a minute,” Coach said pulling him into his office.

“What’s going on Coach? Is this about practice?” he asked worried, but still stayed calm.

“Look, I like you, you have a lot of potential. And only being a freshman here you already have a big lead on the other boys,” Coach began to say. And Marc nodded frequently as if he was focusing, “but I’ve made a decision, and hopefully you’ll come to see that football at this level isn’t just jokes and laughs. The game this Saturday, I’m pulling you from starting receiver, Doobie will take your spot. You have the rest of this week to prove to me you can focus on football and this team. Then maybe, maybe you’ll earn the chance to get it back.”

That very moment Marc’s heart stopped. Suddenly the jokes he thought were funny, and the plans he had for that night no longer mattered. He never expected this, and now he’d have to make up for it. He came back into the locker room and we all knew what happened. No one spoke a word, except me.

“Let me guess, took your spot?” I asked, but I knew that was it.

Marc responded sharply, “Yea man, replaced me with Doobie, what is he thinking?”

“These coaches aren’t no joke dude, this season is going to be rough,” I said, I was being truthful.

“Yeah I know, I see that now, and now, I have to call my mom. She might not be happy’” he said unhappy.

I asked, “Well can you get your spot back?”

“Yea I got the rest of the week to ‘prove I’m focused.’ How ever that it is,” he said.

“You better prove it. You said you’d be the first freshman to break a school record,” I told him, reminding him of his goal, most yards in a season is what he wanted.

“Yea I remember, and I will. I’m going to the room,” he said and he left.

He walked the campus, thinking how, or what he had to do to show coach that this was what he wanted. To show him that football is what he was there for. Show him that he can focus. Marc came across tough decisions before, and encountered many obstacles in life. Two people were always there to get him by, and to listen. So he had to make a couple phone calls.

“Hello,” a woman answered.

“Hey mom what are you doing?” he asked.

His mother responded, “ Hey kiddo, nothing much sitting at home. How’s school? How was practice?”

“It was good,” he answered.

“That’s good. All of us down here are excited to see our boy this weekend,” she said cheerfully.

“Are you really?” he chuckled, “I bet.”

“What’s wrong son?” his mother asked.

“Nothing just tired,” he told her.

She said firmly, “Marc Anthony, what’s going on?”

So he answered honestly, “Me and Steven were at practice, we were goofing off you know, started a little fight and coach got mad. So after practice he pulled me in his office. He told me he’s pulling me and giving someone else my spot until I can prove to him I’m focused. I don’t see how he want me to do that though.”

“Come on Marc, you know better. I know it’s fun to joke, and I know it makes practice easier, but your playing college ball now. You’re a grown man. This is no longer your hobby it’s your job. You are there to play football, not play around,” she told him.

“Yeah I know, but I got three practices until Saturday. I hope working hard is enough,” he replied.

She responded seriously, but tried to lighten the mood, “I’m sure your work ethic and attitude will do a lot. But whatever it is you better do it! Make it enough! I better get to see my baby play this weekend. A starting freshman, that’s my boy.”

Him and his mom continued to talk for a while catching up on what was going on back at home. Marc didn’t miss it much at all, but he didn’t want to forget about it. After speaking with her he felt so much better, but there was still one more person to call. Remember that special girlfriend, here she is.

“Could this be Marc Anthony? College’s biggest star!” she asked loudly.

“Yup! That’s me, what’s up?” he said.

“Nothing much. Writing a short story for English. How was your day sweetheart?” she responded.

“Stupid!” he told her, “Coach is trying to pull me from the game on Saturday!”

She was in shock, “What! Why? Did you have a bad practice or something?”

“Naw, not really. You know how me and Steven joke around right. Well we were joking around a little during defensive practice and Coach got mad. He said I’m not being focused. I have to prove to him that I am in order to get my spot back,” he explained.

“That sucks. I’ve told you since high school that y’all need to stop playing around. You two got yourselves in trouble all the time,” she responded, she wasn’t shocked anymore, we did get in trouble a lot in high school.

“Yeah, but it was defensive practice and we were on break,” he said.

“I understand. But now you have to prove to him your focused. Work your butt off at practice, pay attention, do everything he says and more. Even if he doesn’t think your focused, show him you’re what he needs. Show him that’s your spot. That no one can compare,” she advised him.

“That’s all that I can do. My mom said no matter what make it enough,” he said.

“ Exactly! Hey…you know I love ya right? And you’re my favorite football player in the WHOLE wide world,” she said with a sweet, but annoying high-pitched voice.

“Yea, of course,” he said, “thanks!”

And they continued their conversation; they talked about school, their grades, and classes. Talked about the parties and the people, old stories of high school. They were still close. They were together most of high school so they could find plenty to talk about. So they just talked, and they tried to forget that Marc had a long hard week in store for him.

The next few practices felt as if a month went by. Well at least for Marc. The days were longer the sun seemed hotter. But if in fact a month had went by, it would have been the best month in his life. He came to practice everyday ready. Not necessarily first in line, but he was ahead of the rest of the team. The workouts were harder, but he kept up and stayed with it. His 40 times was faster, and he pushed himself to prove he was focused.

“Keep working like this and something good can happen,” Coach said, “like you’re working to prove something here Anthony.”

Marc replied, “You just don’t know what I’m about yet Coach, that’s all.”

It was offensive’s practice. Run routes. The hardest play in the book. Not many people could do this. 757 X Post. The post route was hard, Doobie and Marc had to do it, and this was like war. Doobie was first and missed the ball all but once, but the time he caught it he was tackled and fumbled it. Now Marc on the other hand, missed only once and the way he caught the ball and ran the route was good. None of us ever had seen the play done so perfectly. Doobie seen it, he didn’t know what to say, all he could think about was Saturday. That day was Thursday.

“Can I talk to you Coach?” Marc asked after practice.

“Yeah, come on in. Close the door,” Coach commanded, “I see you’ve been working hard.”

Marc responded, “I noticed you’ve been watching. I’ve gotten better a lot. You told me to prove it to you, and at first I didn’t know what you meant. I couldn’t imagine the level of difficulty football could be in college. To me that’s not the hard part. I didn’t understand the seriousness of it. I came to play football and no matter what happens, that’s what I’m going to do. But whether I play on Saturday or not, this is me proving to you I’m focused. That I’m ready and I can handle it.”

“I’m glad you’ve learned that in the past few days. It’s good to hear that you’re ready. But after all that work I’m not sure if you have enough energy to put you on the field this weekend,” Coach said with a laugh, “I’m just fooling. Every year there’s one kid who has so much potential, but I’m not sure if their ready. They mess around one time and I kick them in the face. Snap them into reality so that I can know for sure that they’re ready. You were one of them. I see you’re ready now.”

“Coach you played me like that?” he questioned, “It worked though, but dang!”

“I see a big future ahead for you. I want to see you go far, you know now life is tough, you have to remember that. Now as for Saturday-“ Coach said.

“What’s the answer, Please say yeah, my moms coming!” he asked eagerly.

“Yeah, I’ll put you back in.” Coach told him, “But you have to tell Doobie he’s out.”

“Yes sir I will,” Marc responded.

After the talk with coach, Marc knew he might as well get the bad news out to Doobie now.

“Ay Doobie, come here,” he started, “look man-“

Doobie cut him off, “No, look, about Saturday. I know I was supposed to play in your spot, but lately I’ve seen, you’ve worked hard. You’re good, I’ve tried that play for years, I can never get it.”

They both went out to the field, they must have ran that play a thousand times. Marc showed him how his footwork should be, and he got it. They became a little more comfortable with each other after that. Doobie showed Marc how he managed football and school, it helped them both to understand different things from one another.

“That really isn’t that hard if you move your feet right. Thanks man,” Doobie said.

“Yea, but that’s not what makes you good. You trying and working so hard is why you’re a good player. Maybe you can show me how you do that. It’s kind of hard for me,” Marc replied.

He played that Saturday and did well. We won. We jumped and screamed afterwards. We looked up and saw Marc’s family up in the stands, they were happy. That week made a difference. Every second he remembered that focusing was key to getting whatever it was he wanted in life. It was one thing none of us ever forgot. We still haven’t.

A Fallen Princess

Sophie hated the dress—an ugly shade of lavender taffeta with a giant bow, and expensive too. She hated the other bridesmaids, who all knew each other before this wedding and never included her in the plans until the last minute. But most of all, she hated the bride.

In her estimation, Allie was shallow, mean, and treated everyone like they were idiots. Sophie wouldn’t spend one second with her if she didn’t have to. But unfortunately, her brother had fallen in love with her, and now Sophie had to stand there and pretend to support the marriage. And also give up her Friday night to eat fancy seafood at the rehearsal dinner.

She hated seafood, too.

“Now don’t faint, okay?” Allie said to her, spearing a piece of salmon on her fork.
Sophie gritted her teeth. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

“No, seriously, though. Greg says you have a history of fainting. I don’t want that to happen tomorrow, understand me? It’ll ruin the wedding. Everyone will talk about that instead of my dress or the music or the flowers or—”

“Allie. Whatever he told you, he’s exaggerating.” He wasn’t really, but Sophie didn’t want to tell Allie that. It wasn’t like she ever fainted on purpose. And since she couldn’t do anything about it, she didn’t feel like listening to Allie’s whole spiel again. 

It turned out that Allie was going to give it to her anyway. “Don’t lock your knees up there on the altar. And make sure you eat a good breakfast. And drink plenty of water. But not so much you have to leave the ceremony to go to the bathroom.”

Sophie bobbled her head, suppressing the urge to strangle Allie. Unfortunately, Greg would get mad if she did that. What a shame. 

“And get a good night’s sleep. I don’t think Vanessa can do much to help bags under your eyes, and she’s already going to be spending so much time on your makeup anyway—”

Sophie sighed. “Yeah, sure. Look, I’ll be at your house at nine tomorrow, okay?” 

The next morning, Sophie—well-rested, full, and carrying a bottle of water—arrived at Allie’s house. She didn’t protest as Allie’s sister Vanessa caked her face with makeup, and she kept her patience as Allie, predictably, questioned if she’d eaten and slept. Then she helped Allie into her monster of a dress—layers and layers of tulle. Sophie couldn’t even begin to imagine how hot a dress like that must be in the July heat. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to eat something?” Allie’s mother asked.

Allie shook her head. “My stomach’s too jumpy. I’d just throw it up.”

Sophie didn’t say anything about the hypocrisy. She wasn’t stupid enough to get Allie mad at her today. 

When they arrived at the church, they were already running late. The wedding party had to march in almost immediately. Sophie picked up her bouquet—lilies and primroses, delicate but with a powerful smell. Sophie hooked arms with her brother’s best friend and waited until they got the nod, then walked forward , the organ reverberating throughout the church but not quite covering up the whir of the fans.

“You eat today?” he muttered without moving his lips. 

Sophie wondered if she could stomp on his foot without being obvious. No, it was a short dress, it wouldn’t work.

“Yes,” she said. “Now shut up.”

They continued down the aisle and separated. Sophie went and stood by Erica, the third bridesmaid. She met her brother’s eyes and flashed him a smile and a thumbs-up sign. He smiled back.

Vanessa and another groomsman came down the aisle, and then the entire church twisted in their seats to face the back to watch Allie and her father walk past them.

Even from all the way across the church, Sophie could see that Allie looked pale, her face matching her dress, and that she was gripping her dad’s arm a little harder than normal. She wobbled on her heels.

When they got to the front of the church, Allie’s dad turned to her and gave her a concerned look. Allie shook her head and whispered something to him. He nodded, kissed her forehead, and let go of her to give Greg a handshake.
Without her dad to hold her up, Allie’s eyes widened and she sucked in a breath as her knees buckled. She collapsed in a dead faint.

And even though Sophie knew she should feel bad for Allie, she snickered.