But not now. Not anymore.”
“Then why keep doing them?”
I’d asked myself that question so many times that the answer was so simple now.
“Because I have nothing else left.”
13
Tucker
Four Years Ago
N othing like football to make a player feel the biggest and best high you could ever imagine.
When I step out onto that field I feel invincible. The world is my oyster, my playground and every other metaphor you could use.
There is nothing that makes a man feel like a God more than forty thousand people chanting your name.
This is it, my last home game at UConn. The last time I’ll walk onto this field with my brothers, my teammates. The last time this game will be played for pure fun and love of the game. In a couple of months, I’ll be off to the NFL, hopefully drafted in the first round. ESPN’s been predicting I go first or second … they say I’m one of the best wide receivers this game has ever seen.
Damn right I am.
Heisman finalist, NCAA record shatterer and two-time conference champion. I’ve led the entire Division I league in receiving yards this year and scored the most touchdowns of any UConn player in a single season in the history of the school.
Today is just a consolation game, a wrap-up to the season since we didn’t make any bowl games this year. I don’t mind though, go out on an easy finale, pick up and train hard for the combine and the draft.
We’re already ten minutes into the first quarter and I’ve scored one touchdown. Let’s see if I can’t tack on a few more to solidify my record.
My quarterback waves me over, yells a route in my face, and then the huddle breaks. I take my spot on the right side of the field, my runners stance ready and waiting for the QB’s call like it’s a gun shooting off at the beginning of a race.
Once I hear the count-off and call, I book it. I skirt my defender easily; this guy is a total amateur. Above me, the crowd starts screaming louder, chanting, “Lynch, Lynch, Lynch!”
The turf beneath my cleats feels more familiar than my own feet do. The day is overcast, so there is no sun in my eyes or shadows on the field. Perfect. This day, this game, the end of this season. All perfect.
I cut left and turn my head, looking over my shoulder to see where I need to be to catch the ball.
But then I hear a crack and a loud snap, and all of a sudden I’m tumbling to the ground, rolling over and over myself until I land face first with a mouthful of rubber pellets.
I’m disoriented and confused. I’ve never fallen like that before. I’ve been tackled or pulled down, but to trip over my own highly-coordinated two feet? That’s just embarrassing.
I shift to stand up, shake it off … and it’s then that the blinding hot pain shoots out from my knee and spreads throughout my entire body.
“AHHHH!” I can’t help the tortured scream that rips from my throat.
I bend my knee and grab it, which only makes everything worse. The pain is so bad that I can’t take a deep breath, my lungs and heart have stopped working there is so much agony going on in my left leg.
The team trainer stops short when he reaches me. “Lynch … what is it?”
“My … knee.” I can barely form words. It feels like someone is both burning and gutting me at the same time.
The trainer touches my kneecap, and I can hear the bones break apart and shift when his fingers probe them.
“FUCK! Stop!”
He can’t touch me again. I think I might pass out. The pain is growing larger by the second.
I turn my head to see my teammates kneeling just yards away, tears coming out of some of their eyes. Are they crying? For me?
The last thing I see before the pain takes over and the world fades to black is my father, running towards me, a mix of fear and anger clouding his features.
He’s going to hate me for this.
14
Tucker
“ A career ending injury . Do you know that’s what the doctors actually called it?”
Char hasn’t taken her eyes off of me since I started
“Then why keep doing them?”
I’d asked myself that question so many times that the answer was so simple now.
“Because I have nothing else left.”
13
Tucker
Four Years Ago
N othing like football to make a player feel the biggest and best high you could ever imagine.
When I step out onto that field I feel invincible. The world is my oyster, my playground and every other metaphor you could use.
There is nothing that makes a man feel like a God more than forty thousand people chanting your name.
This is it, my last home game at UConn. The last time I’ll walk onto this field with my brothers, my teammates. The last time this game will be played for pure fun and love of the game. In a couple of months, I’ll be off to the NFL, hopefully drafted in the first round. ESPN’s been predicting I go first or second … they say I’m one of the best wide receivers this game has ever seen.
Damn right I am.
Heisman finalist, NCAA record shatterer and two-time conference champion. I’ve led the entire Division I league in receiving yards this year and scored the most touchdowns of any UConn player in a single season in the history of the school.
Today is just a consolation game, a wrap-up to the season since we didn’t make any bowl games this year. I don’t mind though, go out on an easy finale, pick up and train hard for the combine and the draft.
We’re already ten minutes into the first quarter and I’ve scored one touchdown. Let’s see if I can’t tack on a few more to solidify my record.
My quarterback waves me over, yells a route in my face, and then the huddle breaks. I take my spot on the right side of the field, my runners stance ready and waiting for the QB’s call like it’s a gun shooting off at the beginning of a race.
Once I hear the count-off and call, I book it. I skirt my defender easily; this guy is a total amateur. Above me, the crowd starts screaming louder, chanting, “Lynch, Lynch, Lynch!”
The turf beneath my cleats feels more familiar than my own feet do. The day is overcast, so there is no sun in my eyes or shadows on the field. Perfect. This day, this game, the end of this season. All perfect.
I cut left and turn my head, looking over my shoulder to see where I need to be to catch the ball.
But then I hear a crack and a loud snap, and all of a sudden I’m tumbling to the ground, rolling over and over myself until I land face first with a mouthful of rubber pellets.
I’m disoriented and confused. I’ve never fallen like that before. I’ve been tackled or pulled down, but to trip over my own highly-coordinated two feet? That’s just embarrassing.
I shift to stand up, shake it off … and it’s then that the blinding hot pain shoots out from my knee and spreads throughout my entire body.
“AHHHH!” I can’t help the tortured scream that rips from my throat.
I bend my knee and grab it, which only makes everything worse. The pain is so bad that I can’t take a deep breath, my lungs and heart have stopped working there is so much agony going on in my left leg.
The team trainer stops short when he reaches me. “Lynch … what is it?”
“My … knee.” I can barely form words. It feels like someone is both burning and gutting me at the same time.
The trainer touches my kneecap, and I can hear the bones break apart and shift when his fingers probe them.
“FUCK! Stop!”
He can’t touch me again. I think I might pass out. The pain is growing larger by the second.
I turn my head to see my teammates kneeling just yards away, tears coming out of some of their eyes. Are they crying? For me?
The last thing I see before the pain takes over and the world fades to black is my father, running towards me, a mix of fear and anger clouding his features.
He’s going to hate me for this.
14
Tucker
“ A career ending injury . Do you know that’s what the doctors actually called it?”
Char hasn’t taken her eyes off of me since I started
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