Page 93 of Most Valuable Players
I nod.
“That’s what you’re going with? In front of twenty thousand people, your friends, ESPN cameras, you’re going with a cheesy Tom Cruise line?” He smiles despite his teasing.
Is this guy really busting my balls about this? And I thought he was a smart jock. “How about this? I love you, Wes Reynolds, you dumb jock.”
“I can work with that. Convinced you once I wasn’t dumb, I’ll take that challenge again.”
“Possible outcomes include convincing me and not convincing me.”
“Nope. Not convincing you isn’t a possibility. I have talent and heart and I know your weakness.”
“Oh yeah?” I ask, wondering if he means the fact I’m absolutely insanely in love with him.
“Yep. Chewy Sprees and my reading glasses. I have both waiting for you as soon as we get out of here.”
EPILOGUE
Wes
Four Months Later
Less than one percent of college basketball players make it to the NBA. I’ve known the stats since I was a kid, but it didn’t keep me from devoting my life to the game.
I averaged eight assists, three steals, and fourteen points per game. I ate, I slept, I balled. It wasn’t enough. I’m not part of the one percent.
I prided myself on heart and dedication. I worked harder and smarter. I saw things no one else could see on the court. I made assists that not even I was sure how I pulled off. I saw through players twice as big as me. Managed to get the ball in the hands of guys before they even realized they were open.
I saw things before they happened—plain and simple.
As I stand at the back of the room and watch my friend and former teammate hold up his Suns’s jersey and wear the orange-and-purple hat his agent thrust on top of his head when his name had been announced as the third pick in the NBA draft, I have nothing but the utmost love and respect for him. He’s a one percent-er, and I’m not bitter about it.
I don’t begrudge him the success because he worked as hard as I did. We sacrificed a lot to be elite college athletes. Championship titles and awards have been given to both of us, and I’ve accepted that my road ends here. I can rest easy knowing that everything I did helped in some small way to get him where he is today.
I saw this day happening. Always knew Z would be playing professional ball.
On the court, I saw everything. But off the court? I never sawhercoming.
One day I was minding my own business, focused on my team, and the next, I was falling ass first for her determination and optimism. Getting the ball in the hands of an open player was my forte, but it wasn’t until she came into my life that I made the ultimate assist. I helped her get an A in statistics, and she gave me everything in return.
As I cross the room to her, I take in my future. I couldn’t figure out what it was I was meant to do with my life without basketball, until her.
I’ll coach, and she’ll finish school, but after that? I have no clue what we’ll do next. I hope it involves more games of PIG that Ilether win, more Chewy Sprees, a lot more sex. Hey, I’m just being honest. More of all of it with her.
Bless out.
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