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Path To GloryChapter 15 free porn video
Beth and I left the conversation at that point for a day or so. It was Mack who broached the subject next.
"What are your plans as far as dating," he asked at dinner two days before Beth's departure. "Are you going to keep dating when Beth leaves or try to stay together?"
We told him we were still reviewing the options.
"Well, you haven't been dating long," he said. "But I'd be interested in hearing where you both think this relationship is headed."
I know I hadn't thought that far ahead and I was pretty sure Beth hadn't either.
"You mean as far as fall or as far as forever?" I asked.
Mack told me he was asking a little longer term than December.
"Beth, I know you aren't crazy about the amount of time R.J. commits to football," he said. "I know you've only been dating for a while, so it's natural. But it's only going to be worse. What happens in a couple of years when R.J. is gone to mini-camp and training camp and on road trips? What happens when his livelihood — and, for the most part, yours, too — revolves around football year-round?"
I told Mack the cart was a little ahead of the horse.
"OK, say it's not football," he said. "Say it's law school — for either of you. It's all the same. The reason I'm asking is this: Odds are you'll meet your first spouse in college."
I mentioned the cart and the horse thing again.
"Mack, did you know you wanted to marry Ellie three months after you met her? Or two months after you started dating her?" I asked.
"Pretty close," he said. "It took some convincing to get her to see things my way, but I think I knew."
Finally Beth chimed in.
"I think it's a little too soon for us to discuss long-term things," she said. "I plan to have my own career, but that's no issue. We won't have a hope of anything long-term if we can't settle the short-term.
Beth and I sat by the pool after dinner.
"Dad really creeped me out," she said. "I've been thinking a lot about what we talked about. One thing we didn't consider: If we break up badly, how does that affect your living arrangements?
"If you dump me for some football groupie, I sure as hell don't want to see you — and her — every day whenever I'm home. I know you've already had that experience, too. And I gather it isn't one of your favorite memories either.
"All my relationships — even with my fuck buddies — have one thing in common: one of us hated the other for a long time afterward. As much as I enjoy being your girlfriend, it's the friend part I think I like best."
I told her I had been thinking the same thing.
"I'm not discounting the physical part," I told her. "That was great. But I keep thinking about golfing and taking you go-kart racing. We won't be able to do those things anymore if it ends awkwardly.
"But we can still do almost anything we do now as friends even if we're dating other people. And if we're both free in December, maybe we sit down and rethink our decision."
Beth said there's no reason we had to wait until December.
"It would suck to break up over the phone," she said. "But I think I could handle it if we started dating again that way."
Our relationship ended on a high note.
Beth didn't even bother with the pretense of going back to her room in the middle of the night. We held the other like it was the last time we'd ever get the chance.
It wasn't, but we didn't know that at the time.
I missed six days of practice before the trainer realized it was the awkward movement of my torso during acrobatic sex with Beth. When I went two days without back spasms, I felt ridiculous.
I was surprised when the trainer — whose name I learned the third day was Kelly Williamson — told me to call her if I needed to come in early for a massage before practice.
I told her I didn't think that would be necessary, but she insisted.
"We've identified the problem," she said. "You can't go the rest of your life having sex only on Saturday nights. Just make sure you take a shower before you come in and we'll be fine."
Beth had been unhappy about the no-sex order — she was even unhappier when I told her about the trainer's note. She made mention about stuffing Kelly in a garbage can. When I told her of Kelly's offer, I expected her to be happy. Instead, I got mixed emotions.
"So, this chick knows every time you get laid," she asked. "She sounds like a voyeur. Do you have to tell her if it was a blowjob or full-bore fucking? If it was doggy style or I was a cowgirl? Maybe we should just get a direct feed to her house. That way she could get her jollies watching us."
I told her it was pretty cut and dried.
"Hey, I'm not crazy about it either," I said. "The alternative is for us to go the rest of your time here without sex. I have to tell you, my hand and tongue are getting a little tired."
Beth told me with a smile that I could have used her hand anytime I wanted.
"If I had a little more time here," she said. "I would just learn to do what she does. You could have the best of both worlds. You'd get your happy ending before the massage."
I had to wait four more days to be cleared for contact drills, so I wound up missing 10 practices — almost half of summer drills.
I wasn't surprised when Coach Brown called me to his office to tell me Tom would be starting the opener.
"Between missing the spring and half the summer, you're just too far behind," he said. "Realistically if I had anyone else worth a damn, you wouldn't even be second team. But, as it is, even if you don't practice between now and the Eastern game you'll be at least the second-best quarterback I can put out there.
"If you're healthy, I expect you'll play quite a bit during the Eastern game. After that, we'll go game-by-game and series-by-series."
Beth was gone and I missed her already by the time Eastern Kentucky rolled into town. The Colonels were from nearby Richmond, Ky., and were a pretty good team, but only a pretty good Division I-AA team (I-AA is a step between Division I — where Kentucky plays — and Division II — where Wesleyan plays).
I was healthy, but I had a lousy week of practice before the game. I still couldn't keep my personal life from affecting my on-field performance. My lackluster performance dropped me from second to third on the depth chart. The Colonels gave us all we could ask for and I didn't even sniff the field during a 31-24 win.
The same was true in Week 2 when we traveled to Louisville and wound up bird seed as the Cardinals beat us by 18 points. I had risen back to Number 2 on chart by Week 3 and I saw my first playing time at Division I in our SEC opener against Georgia. Of course the Bulldogs had rolled to a 28-point halftime lead by the time Coach Brown called my number.
My first Division II pass went for a touchdown. My first high school pass went for a touchdown. I'm pretty sure my first pass in middle school and peewee went for touchdowns.
It was no surprise that my first NCAA Division I pass went for a touchdown, too. Except it was a Georgia player carrying the ball across the goal line. My second pass was intercepted, too.
These guys were a hell of a lot quicker than I was used to. I completed 6-of-15 passes for less than 50 yards and 2 interceptions on the day. I had two passes batted down at the line of scrimmage and two other sure interceptions dropped by Georgia reserve defensive players. I also was sacked three times and hit a dozen more times.
I think Coach Brown saw my shell-shocked look late in the fourth quarter and he lifted me in favor of our third-stringer.
My performance had left me shaken; how quickly the fans and media turned on me left me shocked.
The radio talk shows were filled with guys who hadn't touched a football in 20 years telling anyone who could hear them how big a failure I was. The Herald-Leader ran a huge picture of me on the front of the sports page. I was sitting on the bench in the fourth quarter with my head down.
The headline said: "This is our savior?"
We were 1-2 and 0-1 in the conference when we headed to Huntington, W.Va., to play Marshall in a non-conference game. Huntington was only 100 miles away, but we went up Friday night and stayed in a hotel. Tom and I roomed together on road trips.
About an hour after we got there Marshall's head coach stopped by. Tom didn't seem surprised to see him, but I sure was.
It was unheard of for an opposing coach to visit the night before a game. But I got the impression Coach Brower had done this before.
"I thought this might come better from Coach Brower," Tom said. "So I asked him to stop by. He didn't seem too concerned that we might beat them tomorrow with the wisdom he's about to impart."
Coach Brower smiled.
"It's not a reflection on your team," he said. "It's a reflection on mine."
I understood that. While we were getting pasted by Louisville and Georgia — two teams that wouldn't exactly set the world on fire — Marshall had beaten Kansas State on the road and lost on a last-second 55-yard field goal to Ohio State, the No. 1 team in the country. As it turned out the Ohio State game was the last one Marshall would lose — and would be as close as Ohio State came to defeat on the way to the national championship.
"I recruited Tom here pretty hard," Coach Brower said. "And we've kept in touch. He's figured out what your problem is, but he couldn't figure out a way to tell you.
"So he called me. I talked to Coach Brown — you know he used to work for me, right? He told me to come on over.
"Son, when you drop back to pass, tell me what you do."
I told him I look for the primary receiver, then I go through my reads.
Tom nodded.
"Here's your problem," Coach Brower said. "You're used to having time to go through your progressions and throw the ball to the guy most open. Tom e-mailed me some clips of the Georgia game. You'd see a guy open and look to the next receiver to see if he was more open. If he wasn't, you'd go back to the guy who was open a second ago.
"You're good, but a lot can happen in that second. The defender could have recovered. Your protection could have broken down. Your receiver could have broken off his route. Tomorrow, I want you to do one thing. If someone is open and you can get him the ball, get him the ball. If it's 10 yards, take the 10 yards. If it's 4 yards, take the 4 yards.
"Don't throw the ball to anyone wearing green. Don't force your throws and don't be afraid to move in the pocket to buy time. You're not a sprinter, but I think a couple of steps to the left or right won't wear you out.
"I want you to quit thinking about the playbook and just play."
Could it really be that simple?
Yep, it could.
Coach Brower was right. We could have brought in a pro quarterback and we still would have lost.
I got in the game just before halftime. Tom had a miserable game. Marshall disguised its coverage so well he didn't know who was defending and who was blitzing. From the sideline, I usually knew, but it wasn't like I could tell him.
By our fifth offensive possession we were down 24 points and hadn't gotten past midfield.
I tried to explain the defensive schemes to Tom on the sideline, but it was like geometry — either you got it quickly or you didn't. It helped that I had grown up watching Marshall football on TV.
Coach Brown stopped by one of our sessions and told me I was playing the next series.
I expected Tom to be disappointed, but he took it well.
His only advice: "Don't think out there. Read the defense, make the pass."
I think the 5,000 UK fans that had traveled up Interstate 64 for the game let out a collective groan when I trotted on the field. I looked around the sea of green and white as the Herd fans broke out their ubiquitous "We Are ... Marshall" chant.
Then I picked apart their defense as best as I could.
We fell a couple of touchdowns short, but our offense started to click. Marshall's defense had held Ohio State to 15 points. We put up 21 in an 11-minute span. Our defense couldn't stop the Herd, so they put up 21 just as quickly.
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