Page 40 of Intercept My Heart

“I can’t,” she muttered in a broken tone. My heart felt as if someone was trying to rip it right from my chest. All the hopeI had that we would be able to recover from this disappeared, leaving me with nothing but pain and regret.

“I love you, Sunny. I’ll probably love you for the rest of my life, but we’re done for good. There ain’t no coming back from this shit. I wish you the best, though. I know you’re going to go out into the world and do great things. I’ll be rooting from behind the scenes, but I can’t be in your life anymore.” I disconnected the call, making sure to block and then delete her number from my phone. This chapter in my life was over, and I needed to do whatever I could to move on.

Harper texted me a photo of her ultrasound, and I stared down at the black-and-white photo on the screen. I guessed this was my life now. Regardless of how it came to be, I would make the best of it. There wasn’t any other choice.

Thirteen yearslater

“Look at these kids. I remember when I was their age. The excitement and thrill of the game. Man, we used to be out all night, running drills and plays. My mom used to be so pissed at me and my father because she thought we were putting too much hope into a dream that may never come true. My father believed in me, though, and he never stopped until I made it to the big leagues. I can look at these kids and tell they have what it takes. All they need is the right people to back them.” Dre rambled as we watched the kids run their drills.

We were invited to a football camp sponsored by my former teammate, Antwuan. He requested that I come as a surprise guest for the kids so I could motivate them and talk about mysuccess as a professional football player. I didn’t hesitate to accept the invitation because I loved giving back to the kids, especially young black boys who looked like me.

“Yeah, I’m glad your old man was able to see you win a Super Bowl championship before he passed. I’m sure it was one of his proudest moments.” Dreis’s father died of prostate cancer, but he never stopped showing up for his games. I used to be jealous of their relationship when we were younger because his dad never missed a game or practice. When we both ended up drafted to the same team, his father kept the same energy. He moved his family with him, and they continued to show up for him. When he was diagnosed with cancer, the doctors advised him not to travel, but Mr. Knowles paid them no attention.

Every game, whether home or away, he would be in the stands, cheering his boy on. Their relationship reminded me of everything I missed out on because my parents were gone. I believed with all my heart that my mom and dad would be in those stands, cheering me on.

“Hell yeah. He used to get on those doctors’ nerves bragging about his famous son. My mom used to send me videos of him wearing my jersey to every appointment. He swore I was his good luck charm.” I heard his voice crack, and I understood his pain on many levels. The loss of a parent was the type of grief I didn’t believe anyone truly healed from. I checked on him as much as I could, but I understood the value of space during the healing process.

“Oh, shit! Look at number six over there. He’s one of the coldest wide receivers I’ve seen in a long time. Look at his form,” Antwuan called out.

All of us retired from the game, but we still kept in touch with one another and the coaches on the team. We were blessed to reach the level in our careers that allowed us to retire without all the physical and mental damage that most players faced. Now,that wasn’t to say we hadn’t been banged up over the years, but we were still in good shape.

“Damn, the defense can barely keep up with him.”

“You can tell that he studies them because he seems to anticipate their moves. Youngblood may be young, but he’s hungry, and you can see it in the way he moves.” We all stood there in amazement as we watched the young man zoom through the defense, play after play.

“Wait a minute. Who is the boy on defense? Number forty-six?” I watched as the two boys battled against one another. Their motions were fluid and seemed to be in step with one another, even though they were playing on opposite sides. Number six scored two touchdowns, but number forty-six sacked their quarterback three times. The two of them were dynamic in their own right.

“Those are the Royster twins. They are some of the top players at Culliver Middle School. I believe with the right coaching, they have what it takes to be the next Dinero Sutton or Jordan Lyndsay,” he boasted, referring to a defensive end legend.

“What’s their story?” Dreis inquired. You could tell by the aggression in number six that he held a lot of anger inside of him. He was a beast for sure, but I had a feeling his background played a major role in it.

“Academically, they are excelling in all of their classes and are on track to graduate early if they keep it up. Behavior-wise, Moolah has gotten into his fair share of fights, but we’re working through it. He has a lot of potential, but his anger can get in the way of it at times. That is one of the reasons I wanted you all here. I figured if he had some players who made it where he wanted to go, he’d see the importance of keeping his mind focused on the goal.”

“Understood.” I couldn’t wait to sit down and talk to the young men out there today. The hunger in their eyes reminded me of myself as a young man, and if I could give any tips to help further them along, I would.

The coaches blew their whistles to bring the boys in. The moment they spotted us, the majority of them took off running toward us. I noticed the two brothers standing back as they talked amongst each other. When they removed their helmets, I found it difficult to tear my eyes away from them. They resembled someone I hadn’t seen in a very long time. The coaches introduced us to the rest of the team, but my eyes remained trained on the boys.

A sinking feeling swept over me. I couldn’t shake it, and I wasn’t sure why. However, once Coach Adkins asked me to speak, I had to refocus my attention.

“How are you fellas doing? My name is Dinero Sutton, and I’m a retired wide receiver for the Cincinnati Hawks. I played in the NFL for ten years and recently retired. We’ve been watching you all play, and I’m impressed by the talent I have witnessed here. You all have the heart and drive to become legends in the game if you put your mind to it.” The boys hung onto my every word, which made me a little nervous. I wasn’t much of a public speaker, but I wanted to encourage them and speak life into them.

After we all spoke to the players and answered their questions, we decided to run a few drills with them.

I was excited to play on the field since it had been nine months since I’d had a ball in my hands. I didn’t regret my decision, but I would always love the game.

“Alright, Moolah, Jay ‘Cub, Davion, and Roberto, I’m gonna put you with Dinero and Shepard. I want y’all to show these men what you can do, and don’t hold back on them. They will assess your skills and give you some tips on how to strengthenthem.” The coach laid out the expectations as we headed onto the field. Josiah, aka Shepard, picked his two players, leaving me with Moolah and Davion. Davion shook my hand and got in formation as we worked on passes.

The energy between Moolah and me seemed off, and even when I gave him instructions, he brushed me off. We continued playing until I got tired of Moolah doing the opposite of what I told him.

“Aye, you could be more effective if you?—”

“I don’t care about any of that. My form is excellent, and I know everything I need to know about running the ball. You can save that lame ass advice for a mothafucka who needs it. I don’t,” he spat. The aggression in his tone caught me off guard, and it pissed me the fuck off. The little boy was nothing more than twelve years old and cussing at me like I wasn’t a grown-ass man. My fists clenched because I wanted to yank his ass up, but it wasn’t my place.

“You’ve got a lot of mouth, little bro, but can you back the shit up? Since you know so fucking much, let’s prove it.”

“You don’t intimidate me. You’re nothing more than a washed-up has-been. If you want to pull a muscle out here and embarrass yourself, be my guest.” My nostrils flared, and I counted to ten in order to keep myself from cussing his little tail out. I didn’t know who his parents were, but they were doing a terrible job.

“Shep!” I called my boy over for reinforcement because I needed to prove a point to this kid.

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