Chapter 17

After everything that happened during the season, the bowl game was anticlimactic. Despite my Marshall-bias, I still grew up only 45 minutes south of Morgantown. But I just couldn't get excited about playing the Mountaineers in Jacksonville.

We systematically took apart WVU, but we still didn't live up to the hype of being "the best team in college football." We finished the season 9-3 with a solid No. 12 ranking. Many of us were left to ponder where we'd have ended up if the NCAA would have left me alone. The team only had a handful of seniors — and only three of them saw significant playing time.

But our core players were only sophomores. Our future was pretty bright and many of us were looking forward to spring practice to get started on what we hoped would be a magical season in the fall.

Beth and I stayed behind for a week at Daytona Beach when the team and her parents headed back to Kentucky from Jacksonville. It was a lot of fun and I think the time we spent as friends that week cemented the role we would play for the other through the next few years.

In Daytona, I would meet another of the important people in my life — a 12-year-old girl named Sara Markley.

Beth and I still visited children's hospitals when we got the chance. At Broward County Children's Center, I met Sara.

She was a little sweetheart and a huge football fan. OK, she wasn't perfect — she was a Florida Gators fan, but you can't have everything. Sara would draw up offensive plays and send them to the Florida coaching staff.

Of course, the Gators never bothered to respond to her. But I took a look at them and I really thought they'd work.

She spent the first visit critiquing my performance in the Gator Bowl. I knew I played like crap, and she made no bones about it.

"You looked listless," she said. "I know it was only the Gator Bowl, but still ... I heard all this hype about you and how good you were. I really didn't see it, to be truthful."

I told her hype is short for hyperbole.

"I'm probably not as good as everyone thinks I am," I said. "But I'm a lot better than what I showed."

Someday, I was going to learn how to keep my personal life separate from the football field. I was ashamed of letting the whole Kelly business interfere in a big game. Honestly, my personal life was more important to me than football. Football simply didn't make me that happy. It was just something that I had always done.

Sara couldn't understand when I told her this and she stared at me for the longest time.

"I would give anything to have what you have," she said. "Of course, I haven't got much to give."

Now I felt even worse, but her mom came to my rescue.

"Sara, you'll understand a little more when you're older," she said. "Happiness comes in a lot of forms. I think football is just a means to an end for R.J."

It was a lot better explanation than I could come up with.

"I could be happy without football, Sara," I said. "I know it's hard for you to understand. Do you realize that you've probably watched more football than I have?

"You probably know more about the overall game, too. I can read defenses and I know what plays will work when, but you'll never find me sitting on the couch watching football. I like watching baseball. I'm learning to play golf. But football is almost like a job I go to and keep going to everyday because I'm too scared to try something else."

We spent another hour talking about her school and her friends, but when I left I still got the impression that Sara thought I was the biggest fool around.

Surprisingly, when I woke the next morning, I wanted to visit Sara again. I don't know why, but I felt good talking to her. She had gotten past the walls I had put up after Kelly, I guess. Sara and her mom were both surprised when I showed up again.

We spent another couple of hours just visiting and neither she nor her mom was surprised when I was back for a third day. Maybe I hoped some of her enthusiasm for football would rub off on me. It didn't, but I think I hoped it would.

Still, when Beth and I headed up north, I made sure Sara and her mom had my e-mail address and cell phone number. I also made sure I had a few of her plays and her solemn promise not to send copies of anything else to Florida until she sent them to me first.

I think she thought I was just blowing smoke, but I wasn't. I would prove it later in the year.

Before I knew it, it was time for spring practice to start. In February, the sports information department asked my permission to use clip footage for a couple of projects. One was for a Heisman campaign since I finished seventh the year before. I was so surprised I didn't even ask what the other was.

I should have asked.

In early March, Cody Webster — our rising country star that I had class with a year before — released her first CD. Her first song was already on the radio and although I had heard it — and thought it was good — I hadn't paid much attention to it other than to feel proud of her.

I was excited because she agreed to come back to debut her first video at the UK spring game. The plan was for her to give a concert before the game then sing the national anthem. At halftime, she was going to sing her song as the video debuted on the JumboTron. I thought it was a cool plan and I was happy I'd get to be a part of her big moment.

I turned out to be mortified. After the national anthem I managed to catch Cody before she ran off the field. I told her how proud I was of her. She thanked me but seemed nervous. I figured the national anthem did that to people.

By halftime, I knew why she was nervous. By halftime, I was way past nervous. I was stunned.

She had a beautiful voice, and I got cold chills when she started singing her hit song in person.

Cody's song was about a guy she liked who only wanted to be her friend.

It was a poignant and touching song. I stood on the sideline with my teammates with a big smile as she sang when I felt a tap on my shoulder pads.

"Dude," Tom said. "Look at the scoreboard."

So I looked and saw Cody's video on the screen.

It was shots of her intermixed with shots of me. There were action shots from last season. There was a shot of me and the team going through the stands after a home game. There was a shot of me hugging Cody after I handed my jersey up to her after the Gator Bowl. Suddenly the song made sense to me for the first time. Holy crap!

"That is the creepiest thing I've ever seen," I whispered to Tom. But I kept smiling. Tom and my teammates somehow managed to keep from laughing at my plight — if only barely.

I've never been more uncomfortable in my life. But I kept the smile plastered to my face and made sure I clapped as hard as anyone when she finished. I even tried to get over to her to give her a hug after the concert but Coach Brown pulled me to the sideline. Before I could catch up to her, she was gone. But she left behind one very frightened, confused quarterback and, after the scrimmage ended, one very curious group of media representatives.

I handled the questions with my usual aplomb — that is to say badly. I usually have no problem talking to people. But with television and newspaper reporters, I never mastered the art of "coach-speak."

Coach-speak is dropping the usual clichés and platitudes whenever asked a question you can't answer.

I didn't get many football questions at the end of the game. I got a lot of Cody questions, though.

I told everyone I'd known her since I came to UK. I told them I didn't think the video was meant to be seen the way they were portraying it. I told them I was aware the sports information department had provided footage. I tried to make everyone think I was in the loop the whole way and I didn't find the video disconcerting.

One of the local TV stations had a camera trained on me during the video presentation. It was a close-up of me and you could plainly see what I told Tom. I knew Cody would be hurt, so I lied.

"It wasn't so much the video," I said. "It was the fact I was 50 feet tall on the video screen. It's a song, folks. It isn't a tribute and, as far as I'm aware, it isn't based in reality. C'mon guys, you work in television and newspaper. I've seen and read your work. I know you're aware of 'creative license.' I know because I've seen the way you twist almost everything you get your hands on to suit your particular needs that day.

"Give the girl a break and give me a break."

My remark about journalists using creative license would set the tone for my relationship with the media for the next — well, to this very day.

The spotlight died down after a few days and I hoped Cody would give me a call at some point. But it was a long time before I'd get the chance to speak to Cody about the video — or the sentiments behind it.

But the controversy that was created helped the song and video immensely. It was a Top 5 hit and the video was in constant rotation.

By Spring Break, I was ready to get away.

About the only good thing that happened in the second half of the spring game was that we broke out a couple of Sara's plays — and they worked to perfection.

A week after the game, I was in Sara's hospital room in Daytona Beach. It was no consolation, but she and her mom were both creeped out by the video as I was. They still took great pains to pick on me about it as much as possible, with Sara going so far as to serenade me and pretend to swoon.

I had brought a video of her plays — and as soon I told her that she managed to leave my personal life alone for a few minutes.

When I was leaving Sara's room, an older woman approached me nervously.

She introduced herself to me and asked if she could speak to me for a few minutes.

"Young man," she said. "I'm sorry to bother you, but I am in a difficult situation. I've been told you are a football player. I have a fund-raiser scheduled for this afternoon, and I just found out the gentleman who was supposed to be our headliner will be unable to attend. Could I impose upon you to take his place? We would compensate you nominally for your time."

I was taken off guard.

"Well, before I commit to anything, I'd need to know more about the cause," I said somewhat warily. "And I want you to know that I'm not a pro player. I doubt many people from here would even know who I am. I'm just a college player."

Her look told me she was unaware there was a difference.

"First, the fund-raiser is for this facility," she said. "I'm not much of a football fan, but several of the nurses here recognized you. It was they who suggested I approach you."

She looked desperate and it was for the hospital.

"I don't mind doing it," I said. "It's not that. But I think you're going to have several disappointed people if I'm your headliner."

She smiled and told me she thought it would be fine.

"It might be better if I bring some of my teammates, too," I told her. "I'll try to find a couple of them if that's OK."