Chapter 5

I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall at the Crawford house that night. But it turns out I didn't need to be.

I heard female voices coming from downstairs early Saturday morning. I worried Mrs. Crawford had come to confront Mom, but it was Suzette, thankfully (maybe).

"Oh, good," Suzette said. "You're awake. I won't have to tell this twice."

I looked at Mom who shrugged.

"Suzette, your family may want to keep your conversations private," I said.

She told me it wasn't private because it directly affected me and Mom. It seemed reasonable, but what did I know. I looked at Mom again. And she shrugged again. So much for finding help there. Of course, Suzette was dying to tell someone the whole saga — and I was just as interested to know — so she began.

"When Dad left last night, he didn't say where he was going," she began. "I thought he just took a walk to get away from us. I was so pissed, uh sorry, mad at mom. The look on her face when I told her she might just get her wish. I wanted to slap the smug smile right off her mouth. We were still arguing when Dad got back. I didn't realize how long he'd been gone.

"Dad is a peaceful guy. He doesn't get mad often, but when he does, watch out. Someone else I know is like that, too. He told me to get a couple of glasses of water and he told mom to sit down and shut up. It was awesome. When I got back, he told me the same thing. That was not so awesome, but I understood.

"Then he told us he'd been over here and talked to Jay. He said he saw Jay's side of things much clearer now, but it was a moot point. Then he dropped the bomb."

Suzette turned to Mom when she continued.

"He said we all overlooked one crucial point. Mom was an adult and behaving like a child. Well, mom got pretty steamed at that, but she shut up pretty quickly. Then he said, 'Mrs. Hartley didn't lose sight of who the adult is. So here's how it's going to be, Marie, ' that's my mom, 'you're going to find a way to co-exist with that boy. You're going to butt out of Jay and Suzette's relationship — if they decide they want to continue it. You're going to behave like an adult. If you don't, I have a distinct feeling you'll be looking for a new job.

"'I don't remember her exact words, so I'm paraphrasing here. But the gist is this: This shit ends right now. Or by this time next week, you'll be out on your ass at the school.' She's right. Math teachers are a dime a dozen. A kid with Jay's arm is once in a lifetime. If someone is forced to choose, they'll choose him. And they'd be right to. She also wanted me to let you know, and I concur completely, 'if you have problems with Jay dating Suzette, too damned bad. You can deal with it or keep Suzette at home.' I didn't like that part. 'If you have trouble dealing with Jay in your class, you better get your resume ready. She didn't say this part. This is from me. If you don't like Jay or his mother, I don't give a rat's ass. But if your pettiness starts to make Suzette unhappy, it's a whole different story. If your vindictiveness continues to put the kind of strain on this family that it has for the last couple of weeks, you also better keep the number of a divorce attorney handy. I'm done fucking around too.'

"Mom about shit, sorry again. Mom was not pleased. She started ranting and raving about how everyone had taken Jay's side and how everyone was against her. Dad handed her the phone book and told her to look under 'L' for Lawyers. He told her to pick anyone she wanted and he'd find someone else. Then he told me to pack a bag because we were headed to a hotel then we'd look for an apartment today.

"Mom got pretty quiet pretty quick. We stayed there last night, but Dad slept on the couch. At least they were talking this morning. That's why I came over here. Well, it's why I came over here this early. I think everything will OK."

Mom sat quietly for a minute.

"Suzette," she said. "I'm glad you're here. And Jay, I'm glad you're awake. I also won't have to speak twice.

"Jay, you know what will happen if I find out you're trying to take advantage of this situation. The natural tendency will be to gloat and brag about how you won. I want this clear from the outset. No one won anything. If I so much as think you've made a snide comment or given Mrs. Crawford so much as a sneer, we won't need the car to get to Pennsylvania. I'll kick your butt all the way there. You better realize that real quick.

"Suzette, I'm not your mother and I don't want to be your mother. But, I'm still an adult and you're not just quite yet. Over the past few months, I've grown fond of you. And you're too smart not to realize this gives you the upper hand with your mother as well. If I believe you've tried to use that advantage unfairly, please don't think I'll sit idly by. I'll call you on it — loudly — and you can bet my fondness for you will dim quickly. This is a terrible situation all around and I'm sorry it's come to this. But it has and I meant what I said last night: This ends right now, for all of us."

Mom's goal was reached. Mrs. Crawford wasn't exactly going to plan a ticker-tape parade in my honor, but she quit singling me out for abuse in class. If I made a mistake, she pointed it out, but in the same fashion she would point out others' mistakes. It was all I could ask for. I did my part and kept my mouth shut. I referred to her as Mrs. Crawford or Ma'am at all times. We managed to co-exist quite nicely for the rest of the school year.

The state quarterfinals and semifinals went like clockwork. We stream-rolled two more overmatched teams and found ourselves back in the state final for the second straight year. Our opponent was a newcomer — literally. Riverside was a consolidation of two schools from the heart of the state — both traditional football powers. One school had produced a couple of NFL players — you might have heard of Ray Mowser (who I was thankful was catching passes for Marshall University by this time) — and the other school that was a class lower but always in the hunt for a state crown in Double-A.

We had our work cut out for us. On paper, Riverside simply had more talent than we did. They were faster and bigger. In one game, I would play against more Division I prospects than I had in my previous high school experience to date. But the schools they combined absolutely hated one another. Riverside had lost three games during the regular season but had won six in a row counting playoffs. We were riding high on a 33-game streak and eager to make it 34. I can't say I was intimidated, but I was worried. Riverside's defensive backfield was faster than any I'd faced except at camps. Their players had the speed and knowledge to make up a step pretty easily and turn a sure touchdown into an interception.

To make matters worse, the title game was being played less than 10 miles from their home field, so the crowd would be on their side too — or so I thought. A local business — I later found out it was my mom's TV station — had purchased 4,000 tickets to the game in early September — how's that for confidence in your son — when they first went on sale. With the 3,000-ticket allotment given to each school — which sold out in minutes — it looked like the 14,000-seat stadium would be split evenly.

And the place was rocking. When we entered the stadium, it was the most amazing site I'd seen to that point. Last year's game was played in Wheeling — far away from both participants and in a stadium that could seat less than 6,000 fans. That was why were playing on the artificial turf of Law Field that night.

Riverside was everything I'd heard about — and then some. But we showed we were a pretty darned good team ourselves. I'd like to give you some details about how well I played. I've been told it was worthy of praise. About the only thing I'm sure of is midway through the fourth quarter, with a 14-point lead, someone somewhere failed to pick up a blitz. The only image I'm sure of from that day is lying on the snow-covered turf — really just carpet on top of asphalt — and wondering where I was. I awoke hours later in a local hospital with my Mom, Suzette and even her mom and dad hovering over me.

I had no idea where I was or how I got there. The doctors seemed relieved that I knew who the president was and how old I was. I spent the rest of Saturday in the hospital but by Sunday I was ready to head back home — even though my head felt as if someone had dropped a block on it. Over the next few weeks, bits and pieces of the game would come back to me, but I've never been able to piece the whole thing together. That's OK, I have other videos to remind me of what I great player I am.

Despite having my final pass attempt intercepted, we managed to hold on for a six-point win and a second state title. There were 50 people on my front yard when I got out of the car — teammates, fans, probably even some who just wondered why everyone was there. Suzette insisted on staying with my Mom Saturday night so she got out first. When she helped me out of the car — balance was still a major issue at this point — the crowd let out a cheer and my head about exploded. It took a couple of days before I convinced Mom (and Suzette) that I was OK to go back to school, but I finally made it back. Suzette hovered over me at school like a mother hen and by the end of the week I was feeling pretty well normal again. At least as close to normal as I come.

The rest of the year flew by. Suzette and I managed to have enough time alone to consummate our relationship (on several occasions, thank God). Being with Suzette was something better than I'd experienced. Our first time was romantic and loving. It was the first time I'd felt so connected. Although Suzette wasn't a virgin, she told me it was a far better experience than before. I took her at her word.

By spring, I had narrowed my college choices down even farther than I'd hoped. My concussion caused a couple of school to back off pretty quickly. Although their efforts increased once I was medically cleared, the fact they left so easily didn't give me a good feeling about what might happen if I got injured while playing there.

By March, I had winnowed the choices down to three schools — the University of South Carolina, Penn State and Notre Dame. Suzette had decided to go to a school close by — WVU. Although WVU had a good football heritage, I didn't like the campus and I wasn't sure of the program's academic interest. I had never considered the school — nor had I seriously considered the state's other Division I program, Marshall. Marshall was amid its Charles Morgan-Brad Willings era. I could be the heir apparent to Willings in a year or so, but I wasn't sure I wanted to wait a year. But, Marshall's coach, Bob Brower, was one of the most down-home gentlemen I'd ever met and one of the few to call me to wish me luck even after I'd told him I wasn't coming to his school. The Herd was my favorite college team when I was growing up and I never missed a chance to attend camp there. But playing college football there wasn't a realistic option.

I visited Penn State in early April and I found State College to be a little more rustic than I'd hoped — it was in the middle of nowhere with no easy way to get there short of a helicopter. This also was at the mid-point of the "Joe Must Go" period — a sad period of Penn State's rich football heritage, if you ask me, and I didn't want to commit to a school that couldn't commit to a man who'd given it more than anyone in history. Literally, Mr. Guilardo and his wife had donated tens of millions of dollars toward libraries and amenities. He is another class act who deserves every good thing he's gotten in life.

I didn't make the trip to Columbia, S.C. I didn't need to. One look at the Notre Dame campus and I was hooked. One meeting with Coach Len Walton and I was ready to commit. I often had wondered how Notre Dame, even when the Irish were terrible, always managed to recruit such good players. Now I knew. I was even happier when I found out the kid from Riverside who knocked me senseless also committed to the Irish. At least he wouldn't get the chance to clobber me again.

My Mom encouraged me to wait before I gave a formal commitment. Coach Walton was under fire after a tough end to the season but you couldn't argue with the academics. Coach Walton was one of the few coaches at one of the few schools that took the books seriously. After a lot of discussion with my Mom and with Suzette, I decided to sign my National Letter of Intent to attend Notre Dame on Monday after our first home football game of my senior year.