Self-destruction whether it be personal or collective in my opinion transcends age, gender, race, religion and even intellect. It must trump intellect because sometimes snap judgments based on seemingly subjective feelings can lead to more positive outcomes than calculated decisions, which seem to be logically sound. For example, choosing to pursue a career in professional football where odds of making it are over a million to one, yet people. However, is it possible that a state of higher being and consciousness (intellect and connectedness to spirituality) can perhaps prevent this inevitable fate of the masses? Are there any individuals on earth who do not engage in self-destruction in some form? I suppose I may have just unmistakably posed the question; are there any perfect people in the world? The answer is no, but yet many do scratch the surface. I now hold a fundamental notion of personal responsibility. I have decided that I am now going to take responsibility for the consequences of every action I take. Looking into my bank account and seeing minimal funds is not going to result in statements such as; my job does not pay enough or I just do not have enough money, rather it will be something like, I need to change my spending habits and perhaps get a higher paying job so I can change my financial situation. I came upon this realization when I took stock of my life and noticed that I was able to obtain everything I really wanted, but obviously failed in avoiding self-destructive behaviors because I was being irresponsible at times and completely spiritually disconnected on occasion. Consequently, no matter the circumstance, I am responsible; and more importantly no matter how bleak the situation is I can correct it. According to Joyce Myers the world-renowned preacher, one good decision cannot correct several bad decisions. It will require several good decisions as well, and eventually in time we can surmount our negative circumstances, be it financial debt, a troubled marriage or even a criminal offence. There is a price to pay for everything, and so its either you defer payment and extend the life of the situation or you pay the price and get over it sooner.
Everything that glitters isn’t Gold.
Three years had passed and I was now settled in my new home country of Canada. I had begun to embody a lot of the cultural nuances that seemed odd to me initially, such as ending exciting and sometimes mundane statements in “eh”. I was beginning to come into my own. Forming new friendships and trying out new things. However, one of the things, which had been absent from my new life, was being involved in athletics. I played soccer and was a sprinter growing up. I grew tired of soccer in my early teens though, because I was ejected from almost every single game for being overly aggressive. I was ready to end my relationship with the world’s greatest sport, move on and fall in love with something completely new. As fate would have it, I did. I began working out at a local gym, and before long random individuals would come up and ask me if I played Football, and obviously I would respond; no, and they would go on to say, well you look like a running back. I wasn’t quite sure what a running back was, but their body language and tone of voice sure made it sound like a complement, and of course I was happy.
After about a month or two of these repeated episodes, I decided to go do some research and find out what in the world a running back was. I logged on to the NFL website and that was the genesis of my new romance. I was introduced to the greatest running back of all time; Barry Sanders, and after watching one highlight video of the former NFL star, it was over. I knew I had to be a running back. I went to chapters and bought Barry Sanders Biography, which also had a DVD, and for the next 6months I watched his highlights every single day. I was 20years old, had never played football in my life but I decided that I was going to. I started asking everyone I knew who knew anything about football to teach me the rules, and then finally learned that I could take matters into my own hands by joining millions of Americans/Canadians for the Sunday ritual: Football.
I had no football experience and yet I decided that the NCAA was where I wanted to play in order to make it to the next level. I was fortunate to get a lucky break when a tall bald man whom I came to know through another friend at the gym gave me the opportunity to come out for his summer amateur team in Milton where he was the head coach. My first carry of the season was a 10yrd touch down. It was an amazing feeling. My next two plays were also spectacular runs, until the unthinkable happened, it was 1st and 10 on the opponents 30yrd line, I made one man miss and then another, ran into some traffic 10yrds later and the ball was punched out of my hand, I fumbled the football. One mistake and the trust was lost. I grew accustomed to limited carries even though I was the biggest threat in our stable of running backs. I played four more games before getting hurt with a major ankle sprain that ended my season. My play in four games still resulted in a 2nd Team All Star selection and of that accomplishment I was proud. After just one season of amateur football at age 20 in 2004, I felt I was ready for the big show. I made a highlight tape and started sending them out. I was not so lucky initially, and so I decided to perhaps start at a Canadian University. In 2005 I tried out for the McMaster Marauders varsity football team and made the squad. I was timed as the fastest player on the team positing a 4.48sec forty-yard dash. However, I had come in with a freshman running back who was very highly recruited and lived up to the hype. My speed and elusiveness did not seem to matter as I still showed my inexperience in terms of my inability to catch the football and block. The college game was different; a running back is expected to perform three tasks exceedingly well, run, catch and block. At this point, I had a competitive advantage in only one area, running with the ball. I soon grew frustrated and alienated myself from the blessings of my coaches. My first carry of my varsity career was for 9yrds. The speed was undeniable. Yet, a lack of sufficient carries meant I could not build any sort of rhythm and confidence. I finished the season in a not so spectacular fashion and immediately decided that perhaps the grass would be greener on the other side still. I made up another highlight tape in late November of 2005 and surely, the appearance of some college football experience, however limited caught the attention of the coaches at an NCAA division 2 team. They noticed the speed and strength on my tape and decided they wanted me. A month later I was at Slippery Rock University in Pennsylvania. I was excited to finally be where I wanted to be, but then I might have taken my eyes of the ball a little bit. While I excelled in creating a reputation as a hard working dedicated athlete, I was making some poor decisions off the field.
My first incident occurred during a mandatory study sessions for first year players on the team. We were not allowed to study with any musical devices, but there I sat with my earphones in and fully visible to the supervising female student. She asked me to take them out and I did, but put them back on shortly after. Mistake number one. She looked up and noticed that I had them in again, and immediately asked me to leave. I initially walked up and tried to sweet talk her into letting me off, but she was dead serious. My charm had no impact and feeling insulted, I used an unpleasant four letter word to finalize my disapproval of her action. The next day I received word that Coach wanted to see me in his office. During our meeting he expressed that he would not tolerate verbal abuse from any of his athletes especially against females. I was officially kicked off the team for a period of a year. Not even a full semester in and I already began self-destructing. Things didn’t seem too bad though, because I quickly joined the track team, which game me an outlet and an opportunity to work on my forte; speed. I wasn’t really interested in track as such, but actually made the decision to join to prove I was a better athlete than some guy who had stolen a girl from me at the time. Again evidence of a lack of judgment. My first track meet was at WVU. It was an open meet and the competition I later found out was not that strong, but it was competitive. In the preliminary heat I came out on top, and in the finals I also came out on top, Positing a meager 7.10 in the 60m dash. The track coaches were somewhat impressed at the opening performance, but noticed signs of an ego after I pointed my index finger to the sky after winning. I felt like this was going to be a walk in the park, but more importantly I started to lose interest because I wasn’t playing football, and more importantly because my motives weren’t right.
With a hamstring injury lingering, I was still able to qualify for the 55m dash in the Pennsylvania State Athletic Championship. I was eliminated in the prelims, but expected that outcome. I had served my one-year suspensions and it the winter semester of 2007 had just begun. I was back in the good graces of the coaches as they had witnessed and gathered Intel that I was always working hard on the track, in the weight room and in the classroom. However, my good graces would again be short lived. I had met a young lady in the fall of 2006. We were going in opposite directions, but as she approached I noticed nothing but her moving hourglass figure, long dark hair and in getting closer seductive brown eyes. She smiled and I smiled. If I kept walking, I can only imagine the places I would be today. Well, I did not keep walking, I stopped and turned around, and so did she. It seemed like it was fate and in less than a minute of conversation we exchanged contact information.
I went back to my suite, and then to the weight room and then dinner as per usual before retiring to the library to do some work. As fate would have it, at about 11.45pm I got a call from that girl and for the sake of privacy lets call her Suzanne. She invited me to come over to her place to watch a movie at that ungodly hour and foolishly I jumped at it. I was really feeling like the man, and so I freshened up and went over. When I got there I could not believe my eyes. Suzanne answered her door wearing a thong and t-shirt, and trust me everything was looking really good or maybe it was the lighting. The room was dimly lit, as she burned some scented candles if I’m not mistaking. She told me to take off my shirt and make myself comfortable on her bed as she inserted the DVD into the DVD player. At this point I was wondering if we were actually going to watch a movie or make a movie? Scenes rolled by in the movie and before long there was light kissing and caressing, until I got a very strange sense that it was time to go before things went too far. My work out that evening had been rather intense and so I was a little tired. I got up to leave and promised to be back another time to finish what we started, which could have been the movie or otherwise, but thankfully not the latter.
The very next day just before lunch, I got a call from Suzanne and she wanted to speak to me about something really important. She was hoping that what she was going to reveal to me would not change our potential future together in terms of having relations of some sort. I told her I couldn’t promise her that, but that she should spill the beans anyway. She proceeded to tell me that she had herpes, but that we could use protection. I was shocked and started thanking my stars, because the cliché phrase that dad always used was now true, “everything that glitters isn’t gold”. I told her that I could be her friend, but that I would not be able to have any form of sexual relations with her. Needless to say, she must have been upset and embarrassed, because she didn’t speak to me after that day. I thought I was off the hook after getting screened and cleared of any sort of STD, and finally back on track back with the reason I had made my way to beautiful Pennsylvania. I had received a couple of awards for academic excellence and was poised for success, until I ran into Suzanne again one faithful afternoon in January of 2007 at the student commons where we eat. She was with a friend sitting in a booth having lunch, and I had just grabbed mine and decided to saunter over for a seemingly harmless conversation. I sat next to Suzanne for a while, and harmlessly placed my arm around her shoulder very briefly during our hour-long lunch. I imagine unconsciously that action was to sort of apologize for having rejected her in some way. Anyhow, she got up to get more food, came back sat down and continued to eat and chat. Everything seemed fine, so much so that she asked me to buy her a coffee when we were leaving, and I did. All is well right? Wrong, the perfect opportunity had presented itself for her to take revenge for revealing her secret to me, and the possibility of it being exposed.
Two weeks went by after that meeting and behold in my mail box was a letter from the Universities disciplinary board alleging that I had touched Suzanne inappropriately (in her private area) the day we had lunch together. I was required to attend a hearing and if found guilty of sexual harassment would be suspended from school for two years. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I also failed to take into consideration another seemingly harmful set of actions after our lunch that day. I was fine with having a friendship with Suzanne, so I called her maybe five times in the space of a week after that day, but she never responded. To cut the long story short, I attended this hearing and her friend who was a witness was called to give her testimony. She testified that Suzanne’s allegations were false. I believed I had a strong case, because number one she had a serious sexual health issue which I was aware of, and two there was a witness. Well, that was not enough because even though they couldn’t get me on sexual harassment, they said I harassed her by calling her. They also sited another situation that had been dealt with in a civil court about a cheating girlfriend, a case that I won by the way. Yet, they claimed there was a trend in my behavior and consequently before I ever got a chance to suit up in an actual game for an NCAA team, I found myself suspended from school. Mission not accomplished, and why me? Well I put myself in those situations; I am totally responsible and have no one to blame but myself. I do not see myself as a victim any longer.
I lived self-destruction to the maximum. This unfortunately all played out as I went through spring ball and had catapulted myself from 7th string tailback to 1st before fracturing my radius during the first play of our first scrimmage. After surgically repairing my arm, I packed my bags and returned to Canada, with two scars, only one of which was visible to the naked eye. I returned to McMaster in the fall of 2007 and was determined to make the best of my situation. I approached the brand new head coach and asked for an opportunity to be an impact player for him, and he gave me that opportunity, however I was only 3months out of surgery and my arm hadn’t fully healed. I got hurt, but was adamant about getting on the field, so I switched positions to defensive because I wouldn’t have to handle the ball. I was in the mix, rotating in and out of the line up, and quickly grew frustrated, as I wasn’t a full time starter. I tried to convince my coaches that I was ready to go back to my original position, but no one was interested in my demands. Instead of buying my time, I took a rather stupid outlet after I sustained a minor ankle injury during practice in week four. I felt as though it was pay back because our defensive secondary was somewhat struggling and they seemed to need me, but I wasn’t giving in. By week 7, I had a meeting with the Head coach and informed him that I no longer wanted to be on the team and walked away.
Three weeks later, I was starting to go through withdrawal and tried to go back to the team, but the answer was NO. Coach asked me to prove myself by attending the off-season training program in its entirety and only then would I have a chance in 2008. Working hard had never been an issue for me, so yet again I came out and proved to be the fastest player on the team and strongest pound for pound. I was actually number one at a majority of the tests we do prior to training camp. As sure as the sun rises every morning, the 2008 season was finally here. I was back playing my original position, had a phenomenal camp and believed that redemption was complete, but the test wasn’t over. I still had not been named the starter; I was to share time with 2nd year back Joey. First game against Queens University, and my first carry goes for 10yards and was it ever exciting. I knew they could not match my speed, but unfortunately I wound up putting the ball on the turf twice in that game. I had undoubtedly broken the trust yet again. Our second game came against the University of Waterloo the next week and in the 2nd quarter after two solid runs, I happened to fumble the ball again after a major hit. My destiny was the bench for the rest of the game until Joey got hurt in the 3rd quarter. I came in the game and scored two downs bringing us back from a major deficit to put us within a score to tie and eventually win the game. During a very promising drive, the ball was intercepted and they ran the clock down, so we lost. The following week my picture was taken and a story written up in the Hamilton spectator. Week three was against the University of Guelph Gryphons. This was an intense game that came down to the wire and we won in a thrilling fashion. I had some really nifty runs during the game and did not fumble the ball once. At this point, although on the rise, I was beginning to grow antsy again, because I felt I should have been starting. I wasn’t grateful just to be getting the opportunity to play; greed had in nicely set in. I started to create all sorts of excuses for my circumstance. Coach liked Joey and not me. I was black on a predominantly white team, and to make matters worse my folks weren’t around to butter up coach after games. Sounds legitimate when you’re not really focusing on what your part in the equation is. I had quit twice, and had a case of the fumbles.
I played sparingly against Ottawa the following week and had resisted complaining. The week five came against York University, again I got no action till the 3rd quarter in what most commentators would consider mop up duty. Yes I scored a Touchdown and got to play, but at the time it meant nothing to me. I was also getting sick of being a jock. My dream to play football and become a professional now seemed to have a negative connotation to it, because now everywhere I went, I got called the “Football player”, and when you watch interviews of black professional football players, it is sometimes difficult to believe they attended four year institutions. I digress, but that was my mind beginning to rationalize my hurt, and losing sight of my goal and the fact that I was passionate about the sport. I took a hit in the York game that bruised my sternum, and again trying to revenge, I took the week off practice, thinking that my place as the 2nd string tailback was safe, but not so. After walk through practice the Friday before we played the University of Toronto, I went to my locker and found it empty. I did not see my Jersey in my locker and I wasn’t on the dress list. I totally lost it, packed my duffle bag, followed coach up to his office and told him I was done. I couldn’t believe it, other players don’t practice but yet they play, why was it different for me? Well I am my own person, and it really shouldn’t matter what sort of treatment other players get. I do not deserve to play if I do not practice. Coach was disappointed and yes, I had proven them right if they felt I could not be trusted.
I was depressed and didn’t even know it. I didn’t have a sense of worth in anything I was doing, which was evident in my behavioral patterns. I kept quitting because I didn’t feel appreciated or that I was valued. The fact that I was on the team, I had been playing, and I loved to play, was that not enough! Not for me at the time. I had to be the center of attention in order to feel good about what I was doing, and this wasn’t happening so I walked away. This time I tried to correct it a lot sooner, I raced to speak with coach right after the game on Saturday, but he wasn’t interested in having me back and neither were my teammates. I had finally burnt the bridge completely. However, I wanted to be around football so bad that I agreed to serve as the ball boy during practices. This was a very humbling experience and I do not regret going through it because I learnt a lot about serving others. I could see that the window of opportunity was closing for me. I was scheduled to graduate the next term, and my parents were certainly tired of paying the hefty international student fees. In February of 2009 I made up a highlight tape, and sent it out to all the Canadian Football League teams; but on draft day, there was no call or interest. Perhaps I may have been more fortunate if I had finished the season strong, but now it is pointless to speculate. Self-destruction: why me? Well because I did it to myself
I would love to play football again or is that dream over? I still maintain my Sunday ritual, but some days I cringe when I watch it, but mostly wish I could still do it. Will the opportunity to do it a high level ever present itself again and if it does, will I be ready? I believe so, but more importantly, I hope this story will help many young men avoid the grip of self-destruction. Within each one of us lies the keys to our destiny, and believe me things may not play out exactly how you want them to, but if you are determined you can achieve your goals. I did, I got everything I wanted or at least almost, but failed to finish the mission by self-destructing. If you ever find yourself saying why me, look yourself in the mirror and ask again!
