Page 109 of Who's Saving You
If you look back on his college career at Zeiders University, there was a game that disappeared from the roster. It was a rivalry matchup, erased from highlight reels, explained away with vague press releases and a convenient “stomach virus.” Askaround, and you’ll hear the hesitation in people’s voices, the hesitation in them being afraid to say more than what they’re allowed, or what they may think. If you believe the rumors, you’ll hear the truth was never about illness. It was about a young man pulled between loyalty and survival, between protecting others and protecting himself. No one knew it, but they also knew something wasn’t adding up.
I recall asking him about that season, and I was met with resistance. “That what this is?” he said, shifting uncomfortably. “You digging for a scandal?”
His defensiveness only confirmed what the records suggested: something happened, and it wasn’t about the flu. An internal university memo I uncovered had redacted pieces of information telling staff to “limit press access,” “put out medical releases,” and, most telling of all, “ensure Papas is unavailable.” It wasn’t an absence. It was a cover.
Papas made a choice that, if you knew the story, most would call a mistake. But dig past the surface, and you find this kind of mistake was born out of love, a decision that cost him years of hiding in silence so others could be spared in public, so families could redeem themselves, friends could be drafted, and bad guys had a moment to change their fate. Good people sometimes do bad things, not because they crave excitement, but because they’re desperate to save those around them.
When I pressed him on this topic, his voice dropped lower: “Sometimes, it’s best if the night and day don’t ever meet.”
Those aren’t the words of a golden boy wrapped in arrogance. They’re the words of someone carrying a secret heavy enough to break him, but he carries it anyway because he refuses to let it break the people he loves.
That one game could have defined him in the worst way. Instead, it remade him. The shine the world sees now isn’t just PR training; it’s loyalty. His charity work for under-resourcedkids isn’t just a photo op; it’s a vow to give back, never to waste the chance he was given. Even his relentless discipline on the field carries a whisper of that buried night. It’s his drive to prove that one choice doesn’t define who you are and one night can’t erase the good you are continually doing.
When I asked how he handles the pressure of being America’s “rookie phenomenon,” his answer was stripped of ego: “We practice for a reason. I trust my QB, I trust my team, and we get it done together.”
That’s the man beneath the brand. Not untouchable. Not flawless. Just determined to work with his team toward one goal.
Nik Papas is not perfect. But that’s exactly why his story matters.
The easy narrative for me would have been to write the so-called scandal people look for when someone is genuinely good. But as I delved deeper and got to know Nik, the real story is about redemption. The truth is, he’s not a saint in any sense of the word. But he’s human, he’s loyal to a fault, and he loves deeply. So deeply, he was willing to risk everything about who he was to save those around him. And saving others is always messier, braver, and more beautiful than a spotless brand.
You won’t get the real story here. I’m painting the picture of a man who made choices to save others. I think we all know someone like that, and maybe we are that person. I’m not here to out Nik Papas, or say what he did was right or not. I’m here to tell you, there is more to a man than meets the eye. There is more to any story than what a brief headline or quick excerpt has to say.
Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is let light touch your darkest places and still stand tall.
Nik Papas has been called The Saint before anyone even knew him. But maybe sainthood was never about perfection at all. Maybe it was about choosing love, choosing good, even whenit could have cost him more than he had. He still found a way to rise above that loss.
I came into this story looking for a crack. I was on a hunt to redeem myself, prove I have what it takes, that I belong here in this cutthroat world. I had a story I hadn't told, a story the world didn’t know. I thought I’d unmask a fraud, expose a fall, and watch the golden boy’s halo slip. It wasn’t fair, but I had been burned, betrayed by someone I thought I loved, and no way I wasgoing to let it happen again.
So, I let that black cat out, I pushed with the questions, I fired back with circumstantial proof, and I let the emotions dance around us on the outside circle. But life is about feelings. As humans, we are meant to be sympathetic and have compassion; we’re built to want to help others, to want to get down to the truth, even if it’s messy.
And when I let that happen, I found a man who broke the rules to protect what he loved. A man who carried guilt like armor, and hope like fire.
And here’s the truth I didn’t expect to write: somewhere between the shadows and the light, I fell for the morally grey bad boy. And it's been the best decision of my life.
EPILOGUE
Nik
The house is quiet except for the soft squeaks of the rocker and the little noises our daughter makes against my chest. I never knew a sound so small could anchor me like this. She smells like lavender baby lotion, and even though it’s nearly two in the morning, I wouldn’t trade this for anything.
Anastasia was born on November 6. The name itself means resurrection, which implies a new beginning after a hardship. Seems rather fitting to me. Noelle calls her my ‘comeback kid’ and I couldn't agree more.
It’s been a year since I took that hit on the field. A year since the stadium lights blurred and the roar of the crowd turned into silence as I hit the turf. I remember the pain, the wrong bend of my knee. I remember the panic in Coach Gage’s eyes as the medics lifted me onto the golf cart anddrove me off the field. I remember Noelle crying over me as they wheeled me in for emergency surgery.
It’s been a year since I wasn’t sure if I’d ever walk right, let alone play again.
Now, I’m walking—running, even. Rehab is brutal, but I live for it. My leg still aches when the weather shifts, but the trainers tell me I’m ahead of schedule. I’m back on the roster and cleared for light drills. Not game day ready yet, but close. I can feel it. Football isn’t done with me, and I’m sure as hell not done with it.
Dad moved back home to Philadelphia with Mom during the off-season. They’ve been in marriage counseling since he returned, learning to live together again after a trauma has been hard. We only half-grieved because we didn’t know what had happened. So to have him resurrected, so to speak, has been an adjustment all around.
He spent the last four years in Greece, returning home to what he knew, and where he was comfortable. He worked hard, saved his money, so now that he’s back in the States, he can completely concentrate on working on our family. He and Mom call every Sunday. We FaceTime so they can see the baby. It’s strange, seeing him like this, normal. But he’s trying. I still keep my guard up, but when he looks at my daughter, when I see the tears he tries to hide, I know he’s fighting for his second chance.
Eva hasn’t exactly pulled a complete one-eighty. Instead, Dante has her under his thumb, as if he’s her self-appointed parole officer. In some ways, it’s greatly satisfying to watch him keep her on the straight and narrow, hold her accountable and even make her bend to his ways a bit, but there are times I have to question his motive.
Dante supervised the dismantling of all the LLCs except her sports management one. He made sureshe destroyed the tapes and emails she had from sophomore year. She and I sat down one night, about six months after my injury, and had it out. We left everything we did, said, and felt on the table. I told her I’m giving her one chance and one chance only; otherwise, she’s dead to me, regardless of what Dante has in store for her.
The only thing that gives me hope is seeing her hold my daughter. Those quiet moments show a different side of Eva. A side that makes me believe redemption isn’t far off. She deserved better when we were kids, and though she was adult enough to make her own choices, I’m also adult enough to work on forgiveness. Two wrongs don’t make a right, and I did a lot of bullshit, too.
