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+---- Thread: *The Torque Lewith Story Part 1: The Locker (/showthread.php?tid=2831)
*The Torque Lewith Story Part 1: The Locker - Hypodynamic - 08-02-2017
The Locker
Not many people actually know my story. They know Torque Lewith the football player, but very few people know the true story of torque lewith the person. And I'm going to take the time right now to tell my story. The Torque Lewith story. This is not the entire story - no, it is not even close to that. So here is part 1. The Locker.
My locker doesn't look like it reflects me as a player. Most people who know me personally just know me as (construction noise), but to most, I'm the outspoken, over-excited, loud-mouthed, hard-hitting prodigy, T. Lewith. My locker does not reflect that personality. My locker contains most of what you'd expect from a NSFL professional: Helmet, shoulder pads, cleats, jersey, thigh guards, but other than that - it's empty.
Well, except one thing.
But before I tell you what exactly that thing is, I need to take you back - to a time before football. For me at least.
I actually never played much football growing up. I'm sure you've all heard the phrase "Ball is Life" at one point or another, but where I came from, people lived and died on those shitty courts in the park. Life was never easy for any of us - but when we stepped on the court, none of that mattered. Ball was life.
I was very good, maybe even great. What can I say? I'm an athlete, and I've always been a big dude. But I never even came close to my little brother, Ezra. Ez was 2 years younger than me, and smaller and shorter than most people on the court at a given time. But the things he did with the ball were magical. He played with a grace that was beautiful to watch. His game was pure. The ball always seemed to do exactly what he wanted it to do, like his mind and the ball were connected. Like they were one. His shots always dropped through the hoop so peacefully, like the ball knew where it belonged, and right when you think you knew his move (he loved his left-handed floater), He'd pull it down, glide right past you and lay it in; his stupid 'Z' necklace hanging right in your face the entire time. He always had on his 'game face'. You could never tell what he was thinking or what his next move would be. There wasn't a doubt in my mind that he could play DI ball, at least to get an education, maybe even to go pro; so I made it my mission to make sure he made it there. My mission: For Ez.
I was never the smartest student, nor was I the hardest worker. But our mother barely made it by with the two of us, and our father, well, he wasn't exactly around. I didn't have time to study; I was tasked with making the additional money to make sure we were fed. But I made sure Ezra stayed in school, stayed eligible for the basketball team. But everything changed on January 21, 2013.
That was the day that changed the course of my life.
I had finished school and walked Ez home, like I did every day. As I left to my part-time job at the small convenience store where I worked, mom reminded me to pick up some milk on my way home, as I did every Monday. I arrived just 5 minutes late, and I got chewed the f**k out. Admittedly, I had a habit of being there at not the time I was supposed to, but the store had a habit of being held-up, and I was basically the only person willing to work there. Such is the life of a work-study teenager. By the time my shift was over the only thing I wanted to do was lie down and sleep until I had bed sores. As I left, I got yelled at again for something so stupid I don't even remember what it was. All I know is the walk home was a blur. I got home, and the moment I my head hit pillow, a voice rang out.
"Did you get the milk?"
Shit.
My mother knew that my silence meant I had forgotten.
"Can you please go back and get it?"
"I do everything here, can you get it???" (This was not true - she worked very hard for us.)
"It's fine (construction noise), I'll get it", Ez said as he walked into my room, "I just finished my work"
His kindness brightened my day just a little, so I said I would catch up with him to walk the way back. He left. I got dressed.
And that was all it took. One stupid trip to get milk. One time that I couldn't do my job. What I was supposed to do.
I figured he was already there when I heard it. pop
And then six more.
I ran-no, sprinted to the store.
And saw him lying on the ground.
I kneeled by his lifeless body, crying, and picked up that obnoxious Z necklace.
The one I had seen breeze past my face so many times.
Even in death he looked looked so peaceful.
Had his 'game face' on.
Like he was never scared.
The next few weeks were a blur; I lashed out at everyone. I was mad at the world, and it ended up landing me in Nevada State. Penitentiary. Where I cleaned myself up. Where I worked hard to honor him; honor his legacy. I played football. I was good. Good enough to make it here. Where I can honor him every play. I wear number 21 to remember that day: January 21st. To remind me to never stop working hard.
It's why the only thing hanging my locker is his Z necklace.
To remind me that every I ever did, everything I still do is for him.
For Ez.
-TL
More to Come.
(1004 words not including title/footer)
Graded
Payout=$1,604,000
*The Torque Lewith Story Part 1: The Locker - loco - 08-02-2017
rip ez
f