American Outlaw - Jesse James [42]
I pushed past him and stomped out the door.
I was returning just in time to catch the tail end of our season. Our schedule was nearly completed: we had a single remaining regular season game, and then the playoffs. Steadily, I walked through the campus, down toward the stadium.
Coach Meyer and Coach Brown, our defensive coordinator, were waiting on the steps to greet me when I arrived.
“Well, if it isn’t Jesse James,” Coach Meyer said. He stuck out his hand for me to shake. “How goes it?”
“Really great,” I said.
“That’s what I’ve been hearing,” he said. “Paxton said he’s been visiting you at home, supervising your progress. He says you’re ready to rock.”
“Josh has been a terrible distraction, sir.”
“That’s what I figured,” Coach Brown said, laughing. “You look good to me, son! Stand up, so we can take a look at you.”
I stood up for them.
“Take a deep-knee bend for me?” said Coach Brown. I did it. “No pain?”
“None,” I said, breathing deep.
“You got hit hard as hell.”
“This is one tough kid,” Coach Meyer said, looping an elbow around my neck. “My sense is, he’s ready to play.”
They both looked at me, waiting for me to speak.
“That’d be a quick damn rehab, Barry.”
“Let’s leave it to the boy to make the decision,” Coach Meyer said. “He knows what his body can do.” He turned to look at me. “How does that knee feel for you?”
“Nice,” I said, flexing it. “It feels pretty strong.”
“You see?” Coach Meyer said. “He’s ready. I tell you what, Jesse, those four sacks you got against Long Beach were un-fucking-real. We could use some more of that in the playoffs, I’ll tell you that much.”
I said nothing, just sitting there, looking at the ground.
“Well?” Coach Meyer prodded me. “Everybody says you’re ready to play. Do you want to play?”
It was a beautiful fall day. The sun shone down on our faces, and you could smell the cut grass on the field. I was an athlete. This was what I had been born to do.
I looked up at my coaches and told them, “No, I’m done.”
Both of them looked shocked.
“Excuse me?” Coach Meyer asked quietly.
I shook my head firmly, feeling more sure of my decision. I had never liked to side with my father, but in this case, I couldn’t help it. He was right. I was a commodity to these people. I’d been broken, but now I was fixed. They’d changed my flat. Now they wanted me to head out, full throttle.
“You know,” I said, “someday I might have some kids.”
Meyer stared uncomprehendingly, as if he was listening to a foreign language. “And?”
“Well, I was just thinking,” I continued. “Someday, I might want to pick them up and run with them.”
I picked up my bag, nodded respectfully, and left them sitting there.
6
As soon as they found out that I’d quit the team, the school stripped me of my scholarship. That was that—I was gone. As relatively cheap as RCC was, I couldn’t afford to be there if I had to pay for it myself.
I set out to scrub my dorm room of my existence. Pants, socks, undershirts, cassettes, toothbrush: I stuffed them all into two green army duffels. The job took me about ten minutes to complete. I had nothing, really.
“I’ll see you again,” Josh said.
“Nah,” I said.
“Sure, I will. You’ll be that guy out there on the freeway, begging for cash,” Josh said. “I’d always give you a nickel, Jesse James.”
“Cool, I’ll remember that.” I stripped the cheap, dirty linens from my bed and, after looking at them cheerlessly for a moment, crumpled them into my duffel.
“You’ll have a bitchin’ homeless tan,” Josh continued. “All brown and healthy-looking.”
“Hey, look. Thanks for helping me out with my rehab and everything. I appreciate it.”
“Can’t have you out begging with a broken knee,” Josh said. “Good luck, Jesse.”
I headed back home to my dad’s place, dreading the homecoming. I knew he’d make me eat some crow for coming back. Sure enough, the knowing grin that spread over his face when he saw me just about made me sick.
“Well, what now?” he said, hardly even trying to hide his smile.
“I’ll figure something out,” I muttered.
“Stay here as long as you need,” he