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Banned
OVR: 31
Join Date: Nov 2008
Location: Westchester County, NY
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Re: Talent Outside the Pocket: An NCAA 10 QB Story
The night was still young, yet Gary Pickarts had foolishly gone to bed.
It may not have even been past 8 O'clock, yet he needed to empty his mind, clear his troubled thoughts, and start to think about moving on with his life.
He lay on his back, over the covers, hands tucked behind the back of his head, elbows out at his sides like giant elephant ears.
He sighed, and thought what am I going to do?
So many schools to choose from, so little time. Where did he really see himself going to school for his life?
Did a big or little campus really matter to him?
And what of academics. He hadn't the first idea what to major in. If football didn't pan out...
Don't think that, he said to himself, slapping himself gently on the cheek, as if to give himself a warning blow. He shook the disturbing thoughts from his mind, and closed his eyes for a moment.
He heard the fight song from Florida U, Go Gators!
Somehow, however, he didn't particularly fancy seeing himself in those gorgeous blue and orange uniforms, in front of one of collegiate football's toughest crowds, rooting him on...from the bench. With the phenomenal depth they had at quarterback, Gary wasn't so sure he would ever be able to break through as the clear-cut starter.
University of Alabama wasn't a bad choice. But Gary didn't want to go to a place he wasn't too unfamiliar with. The word “Alabama” alone gave Gary the shudders, bringing thoughts of large, inbred-hick farmers to his troubled mind.
Howabout not? The deciding voice said in his head.
He got up from his bed, making his way over towards the desk.
A pile of at least twelve thousand pamphlets, booklets, and magazines, covered every square inch of the desk, so it was almost impossible to see the dark brown mahogany wood that lay underneath.
He took a glance at all of them, spread out vertically along the desk, as if they were playing cards in a person's hand.
None of them really appealed to him.
Save one.
Smack dab in the middle was a tiny, minuscule handbook from the University of Texas.
Now there's a thought... the voice said, now seeming to be slightly agreeable.
He picked the smaller pamphlet up, and read through it.
On the inside back cover was a piece of handwritten information.
In black sharpie marker was a phone number, and underneath, a messily scribbled name.
“COACH MACK BROWN.”
Underneath that, in slightly smaller writing, but with the same amount of untidiness was:
“You can call me anytime.”
Gary glanced at his watch. 9 PM.
Eastern time.
He ran across the hall in the upstairs part of his house, into his mother's bedroom, and picked up the phone.
“...And I tell you, Barbera,” his mother said from the other end of the line. “It's just been so difficult for him, especially when he weighs in his football options. I feel so bad for him sometimes, if only Peter had been there for him earlier, especially before he joined the varsity team.”
“And how are things, with you and Peter?”
“They're going well. He's sweet, remarkably funny, and he's actually a lot smarter than he lets on at first.”
Peter? Coach P? Could it be?
“How's he after hours?” Barbera asked his mother.
Gary slammed the phone shut on the base as hard and fast as he could.
Coach P? With...with his Mom?
Gary thought back to the final few minutes before the championship game, when he had a close moment with Coach P.
“You're like a father to me,” Gary had said.
He felt so stupid! Could it be that Coach had strangely gotten the idea that Gary had given him permission—as well as a request—to date his mother, and actually become his father?”
Unless...unless they were dating beforehand?
No.. Gary thought immediately. One of them would've told me a long time ago, if that was the case. Right?
No voice in his head responded.
Quivering with curiosity (or rage, he couldn't tell which one it really was), he picked up the phone once more.
“I tell you, Barbera,” he heard his mother's voice on the phone still. “He's got great hands.”
Gary slammed the phone down once more, panting heavily.
Wrong time to pick the phone up, Gary,he thought to himself.
He counted a good fifteen seconds before picking the phone up once again.
“That's wonderful to hear, Madeline,” he heard Barbera say from the other line.
“Yeah,” his mother said in response. “It's been going on for a couple of months, although Gary doesn't know. We figured we'd tell him once we were approaching the wedding. He's still been very...particular, and somewhat impartial, towards other men that I've gone out with.”
“Still unable to live without his father, huh?” Barbera asked admonishingly.
“Yeah, it's such a shame. He's such a sweet boy.”
Caught in his ire, he slammed the phone down on the receiver multiple times, until the phone began to break off into bits and chunks. Tears streaming down his face, he ran across the hall, back into his room, slamming the door shut, and buried his face in his pillow, where he left fresh tear stains.
He pulled the covers over his body after shuddering once more with disgust, and sleep finally found him.
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07-28-2009, 02:04 PM
