Part of me feels as if Ivy can, to some degree, understand the pressure of pursuing an athletic dream. I like that we have that in common. I like that she’s so focused on making it in dance. Our drive and determination is similar in that regard.
“Roan?”
Lost in thought, my eyes snap instantly back to hers. “Sometimes I think it might be nice to finish up here and then enter the draft the following year.”
Her entire face softens as she considers my words. It’s almost as if she realizes just how hard that was for me to admit out loud. “Then why don’t you?”
I shrug. There’s a part within me that wants to look away from her inquisitive bright green eyes, but I hold steady. If I’ve learned anything about Ivy over the last couple of weeks, it’s that she’s smart and perceptive.
“Because I’m playing the best ball of my life right now. There’s a lot of buzz surrounding the Bulldogs. I don’t want to lose that momentum. And with the guys graduating or entering the draft this January, I’m not sure what the team will look like next year.”
“So why consider waiting then?”
Feeling slightly restless or maybe agitated, I jerk my shoulders again. This isn’t an easy subject for me to discuss. But maybe that’s because I’ve never had anyone to talk about it with who wasn’t pushing for me to go after my forth year.
Ivy has zero investment in my decision.
“I’d actually like to finish up my degree. Who knows how long I’ll end up playing football for. I’ve worked really hard over the past three years balancing both football and classes. People may think I’ve been skating through, but I haven’t. I’ve put the time in. Plus, I know everything will change once I go pro. My life will never be the same again. The fame, attention, money…”
“Most guys wouldn’t feel that way. They’d want it all as soon as they could have it. They wouldn’t give a crap about the degree they’ve been working on.”
My gaze skewers hers. “I know. There are guys I play with now who feel that way. College is nothing more than a means to an end. It’s a place to work out and get bigger, faster and stronger, so they can make it to the NFL in three years. Instead of taking advantage of the three or four years they’re spending here, they take bullshit classes that will go towards a useless degree they won’t be able to do anything with.” I can’t help but shake my head at the stupidity of that kind of logic. I’ve tried reaching out to some of those guys too, tried steering them into something more meaningful, but most don’t give a shit. They float through their classes not really putting in any time or effort.
Which just seems like a complete waste to me.
“Even though I get tired of the attention here, it’s nothing compared to what it’ll be once I’m picked up by a team. And I’m enjoying the season this year. We’re in a groove. Playing in the pros… it’s the next level,” even though I tell myself not to say the words, they slip out anyway, “and just because I’m good here doesn’t mean shit out there. I could end up crapping out.”
Because I’ve seen it happen before…
“I know what you mean,” she responds softly, “I have the same fears. Dancing, performing here at Barnett is a lot different than competing against a dancer who was trained at Julliard or has been working professionally for years.”
I nod. Like I said before- Ivy is perceptive. She gets it. I’ve never been with a girl I can just chill with. A girl I actually connect with on more than just a physical level.
And you know what?
I like talking to Ivy. I like spending time with her. And god knows I love holding her in my arms when I fall asleep at night. It calms something within me I had no idea was unsettled.
“But you can’t let your fears stand in your way, Roan. You’re an amazing football player. And yeah, there’s always a learning curve when you move up to the next level- with anything. That’s to be expected.”
I run a hand through my hair as her words and their meaning resonate within me. I can’t help but think about some of the players who have been hyped up by the media, were supposed to be a first or second round draft pick, and then just kept getting passed over. Or couldn’t hack it in the NFL.
I don’t want to be one of those guys.
There’s a lot of pressure for me to make the right decision. And I realize most of it is self-imposed. “I don’t want to make a decision based on what everyone around me feels is best. I need to do what I believe is right.”