It took me some time to get to this, but it's been on my mind nonstop. Heading into the DSFL as a rookie, I am feeling a lot of conflicting emotions about my place and my reputation. I don't want to come off as someone who needs validation because that's not what this feeling is. It's more...not wanting to be misunderstood. But to understand, you have to really start from the beginning of my journey.
I was a young bright-eyed little boy born to two amazing parents in a modest neighborhood in San Francisco (yes, back when some areas could be considered modest). I never thought too much about football growing up, as my father played in the Canadian league and didn't really involve me much in his career. He always said it was because he wanted me to focus on my education and my friends in the Bay Area, but now that I'm older, I'm not as sure about that. I think he was just ashamed he never made it to the NSFL.
I remember a lot of my friends being extremely excited when they found out that my father was a football player only to immediately lose interest when I told them that he played in the CFL. I never really considered why they lost interest; I just thought that they only had time to follow one league at a time. After all, that's all my father spent his time on. Between his team and his obsession with the NSFL, he honestly didn't have a lot of time left for the family. I didn't mind though. I thought he was always inspirational, working so hard to achieve his dreams.
Even when I was angsty hitting puberty, I didn't really mind his absence. Because that's what it truly was. Absence, even when he was home. And that meant he was also never in my way and never telling me what to do. But then, the accident happened. My father got caught up in a storm in Toronto, but didn't want to risk missing his game because he thought some NSFL scouts might be in the audience. Honestly, what good would a 36 year-old man be to a bunch of recruiters anyway? I guess he didn't think of it like that though. With the low visibility of the storm, my father ended up careening off the road and ended up crashing straight into an adult moose. The doctors said he died on impact, but there really would be no way of knowing. Nobody found the car until two days later when the storm had subsided.
That was the first time in my whole life that I realized: I had never seen my dad play football before. The passion that literally drove him to death was something he was so ashamed of that he never shared it with his own son. No matter how hard he tried, he could never be good enough for the NSFL. Maybe he blamed himself for starting a family before he made it. Maybe he blamed himself for committing to the CFL, where he accrued multiple injuries that hurt his chances of ever being looked at. Maybe he even blamed himself for just not being good enough.
Regardless, after the accident, I realized for the first time that my father wasn't this hero going off to save the world all the time. He wasn't this unflappable champion that didn't need the limelight to feel validated. He wasn't even the best player on his team. And that broke me.
I got in with a bad crowd at school and started drinking immensely (at the age of 12). I figured if my father tried his hardest to achieve his dreams and never did, how could I? What hopes did I ever have to accomplish anything? Failure was probably genetic anyway. My teachers obviously noticed my drop from a dedicated, involved student into a delinquent. They did their best to talk to my mother about it, but she was busy with two jobs trying to make ends meet for her child. So nothing happened until my first (and only) run-in with the law. I got caught intoxicated loitering on school property after hours and somehow managed to get off with a warning. You can bet I didn't get off at home though; my mother was enraged and screamed at me about how my dad didn't sacrifice everything for me to just waste my life away before it even had a chance to start.
I left that group of kids (and honestly had no friends for a bit) until the beginning of high school. I talked to my mother and started getting coached by my father's teammates for football just to see if I had any talent at it. I wasn't great, but I was certainly passable for a receiver on a high school team. Once I got to high school, I tried out for the football team and made it as their fourth-string wide receiver, but that was good enough for me. With more reps and film under my belt, I worked my way up to a starter and by my junior year, I was the WR1 of the team (if you even count that at that level). Our team won the California State Championships my junior and senior years and the look in my mother's eyes is something I'll never forget. Her immense pride burned through all the tears.
I got recruited to Georgia Tech and struggled quite a bit my freshman year. I wasn't quite fast enough to keep up with the defensive backs even at the college level. While I had great catching ability if I reached the ball, there were plenty of times when I wasn't able to finish a route or when a cornerback or safety would be able to get there before me and cut me off. I wasn't sure what or how to handle being inadequate once again. During my sophomore year, my coach noticed me messing around with the other receivers in game not unlike keep away and he pulled me aside. He told me that he'd try me as a cornerback for a few games and see if I was able to shine there. Lo and behold, that was it for me. I found my calling and thrived in my new position. I stuck with it for a couple years and here we are now with me looking to get drafted.
Alright, why share this? I understand if by now you're thinking of clicking off or just leaving an angry comment for wasting your time. Remember though, I just want to help you understand where I'm coming from. I know I come off as callous and rude in interviews and pressers. I know I sometimes come off as too blunt and too inconsiderate of other players. Everything I do is to improve myself as a player and further my chances of being seen by scouts. I only act this way because I spent 12 years of my life watching my father get pushed around and overlooked. I refuse to risk ever having the same fate. He spent his whole life working and grinding to end up in NSFL and even when he never got the chance, he never gave up.
As a kid, I loved playing Metroid games and was tickled by the fact that the antagonist and I had the same name. After my father passed, I decided I'd use that dragon persona as a way to brutishly be strong and aggressive even when I was unsure. The dragon reminded me that I was strong and that I could crush any challenge in front of me. I am aware of how lame it may be to come up with your own nickname, but that's the only thing I had back then and I can't give it up now.
I mean no disrespect to the other players in the league nor do I ask for their sympathy. Everyone has a story and everyone is dealing with something. All I ask is that you understand that I've seen what it's like to try your hardest in order to achieve nothing and I can't let that happen to me. My father is counting on me and I won't let him down now.
I am not cocky enough to think that I am the best cornerback (hopefully soon to be) in the league, nor am I close. But I don't think it's farfetched for me to say that I'm the best in my draft class and that I'll be the best rookie corner this season. I have a lot of room to grow after only playing this position for two and a half years, but I will be the best that anyone will ever see by the time I'm done. I'm not doing this just because it's what I love (though it is). I'm doing this to fulfill the dream my father died for. I'm doing this to prove to myself that failure isn't genetic.
X
I was a young bright-eyed little boy born to two amazing parents in a modest neighborhood in San Francisco (yes, back when some areas could be considered modest). I never thought too much about football growing up, as my father played in the Canadian league and didn't really involve me much in his career. He always said it was because he wanted me to focus on my education and my friends in the Bay Area, but now that I'm older, I'm not as sure about that. I think he was just ashamed he never made it to the NSFL.
I remember a lot of my friends being extremely excited when they found out that my father was a football player only to immediately lose interest when I told them that he played in the CFL. I never really considered why they lost interest; I just thought that they only had time to follow one league at a time. After all, that's all my father spent his time on. Between his team and his obsession with the NSFL, he honestly didn't have a lot of time left for the family. I didn't mind though. I thought he was always inspirational, working so hard to achieve his dreams.
Even when I was angsty hitting puberty, I didn't really mind his absence. Because that's what it truly was. Absence, even when he was home. And that meant he was also never in my way and never telling me what to do. But then, the accident happened. My father got caught up in a storm in Toronto, but didn't want to risk missing his game because he thought some NSFL scouts might be in the audience. Honestly, what good would a 36 year-old man be to a bunch of recruiters anyway? I guess he didn't think of it like that though. With the low visibility of the storm, my father ended up careening off the road and ended up crashing straight into an adult moose. The doctors said he died on impact, but there really would be no way of knowing. Nobody found the car until two days later when the storm had subsided.
That was the first time in my whole life that I realized: I had never seen my dad play football before. The passion that literally drove him to death was something he was so ashamed of that he never shared it with his own son. No matter how hard he tried, he could never be good enough for the NSFL. Maybe he blamed himself for starting a family before he made it. Maybe he blamed himself for committing to the CFL, where he accrued multiple injuries that hurt his chances of ever being looked at. Maybe he even blamed himself for just not being good enough.
Regardless, after the accident, I realized for the first time that my father wasn't this hero going off to save the world all the time. He wasn't this unflappable champion that didn't need the limelight to feel validated. He wasn't even the best player on his team. And that broke me.
I got in with a bad crowd at school and started drinking immensely (at the age of 12). I figured if my father tried his hardest to achieve his dreams and never did, how could I? What hopes did I ever have to accomplish anything? Failure was probably genetic anyway. My teachers obviously noticed my drop from a dedicated, involved student into a delinquent. They did their best to talk to my mother about it, but she was busy with two jobs trying to make ends meet for her child. So nothing happened until my first (and only) run-in with the law. I got caught intoxicated loitering on school property after hours and somehow managed to get off with a warning. You can bet I didn't get off at home though; my mother was enraged and screamed at me about how my dad didn't sacrifice everything for me to just waste my life away before it even had a chance to start.
I left that group of kids (and honestly had no friends for a bit) until the beginning of high school. I talked to my mother and started getting coached by my father's teammates for football just to see if I had any talent at it. I wasn't great, but I was certainly passable for a receiver on a high school team. Once I got to high school, I tried out for the football team and made it as their fourth-string wide receiver, but that was good enough for me. With more reps and film under my belt, I worked my way up to a starter and by my junior year, I was the WR1 of the team (if you even count that at that level). Our team won the California State Championships my junior and senior years and the look in my mother's eyes is something I'll never forget. Her immense pride burned through all the tears.
I got recruited to Georgia Tech and struggled quite a bit my freshman year. I wasn't quite fast enough to keep up with the defensive backs even at the college level. While I had great catching ability if I reached the ball, there were plenty of times when I wasn't able to finish a route or when a cornerback or safety would be able to get there before me and cut me off. I wasn't sure what or how to handle being inadequate once again. During my sophomore year, my coach noticed me messing around with the other receivers in game not unlike keep away and he pulled me aside. He told me that he'd try me as a cornerback for a few games and see if I was able to shine there. Lo and behold, that was it for me. I found my calling and thrived in my new position. I stuck with it for a couple years and here we are now with me looking to get drafted.
Alright, why share this? I understand if by now you're thinking of clicking off or just leaving an angry comment for wasting your time. Remember though, I just want to help you understand where I'm coming from. I know I come off as callous and rude in interviews and pressers. I know I sometimes come off as too blunt and too inconsiderate of other players. Everything I do is to improve myself as a player and further my chances of being seen by scouts. I only act this way because I spent 12 years of my life watching my father get pushed around and overlooked. I refuse to risk ever having the same fate. He spent his whole life working and grinding to end up in NSFL and even when he never got the chance, he never gave up.
As a kid, I loved playing Metroid games and was tickled by the fact that the antagonist and I had the same name. After my father passed, I decided I'd use that dragon persona as a way to brutishly be strong and aggressive even when I was unsure. The dragon reminded me that I was strong and that I could crush any challenge in front of me. I am aware of how lame it may be to come up with your own nickname, but that's the only thing I had back then and I can't give it up now.
I mean no disrespect to the other players in the league nor do I ask for their sympathy. Everyone has a story and everyone is dealing with something. All I ask is that you understand that I've seen what it's like to try your hardest in order to achieve nothing and I can't let that happen to me. My father is counting on me and I won't let him down now.
I am not cocky enough to think that I am the best cornerback (hopefully soon to be) in the league, nor am I close. But I don't think it's farfetched for me to say that I'm the best in my draft class and that I'll be the best rookie corner this season. I have a lot of room to grow after only playing this position for two and a half years, but I will be the best that anyone will ever see by the time I'm done. I'm not doing this just because it's what I love (though it is). I'm doing this to fulfill the dream my father died for. I'm doing this to prove to myself that failure isn't genetic.
X
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