Player Season: The Pickup Artist Who Hacked Nike by Brad Stephenson Read Free Book Online
Authors: Brad Stephenson
happened, I didn't ask and I didn't care but I couldn't help but notice a condom on the floor.
Tiffany was sprawled out in the bed wearing bright pink panties and a long-sleeved silk rainbow colored pajama top. I hopped in next to her and sat motionless for the next few minutes. She didn't say a word; likely due to the embarrassment over the hit-and-run I assumed BJ conducted just minutes ago.
There were two options: I either needed to dive in or get up and rejoin the party. So I placed my hand against her thigh to test the waters. It was a typical step-by-step approach, you know, see how far you can get. I guess my turtle-esque pace annoyed her because she grabbed my hand and stuck my fingers directly inside her.
Just as the moment was heating up, I looked over the headboard and wasn't surprised at all by what I saw through the window. Justin was grinning at me, nodding his head up and down with a crew of people surrounding him on the back deck. They were all watching me, with beers in hand, for who knows how long – I'm sure BJ tipped them off.
Every now and then I would look up and see them pumping their fists, rooting me on and occasionally performing play-by-play commentary. I soon joined my fellow comrades on the back deck, who apparently felt obligated to give me advice on my technique.
We arrived in Chesapeake the next day and Justin received a phone call; it was his agent and he wanted to share good news. He just finalized Justin's signing bonus for $6.1 Million; the highest deal ever for a high school draftee.
Justin kicked back in the laz-e-boy in my living room and smiled. I knew he wanted to stand up and scream "Hahaha! I'm rich!" but he probably didn't think I wanted to hear it. Truthfully, if he had, I would have jumped up, screamed and danced with him; he was rich.
However, I had my own season to focus on at VCU.
I arrived in Richmond at my off-campus apartment, which I shared with my roommate Malone, who had a rather unique and peculiar background. He attended the College of William and Mary on an athletic scholarship for running track. Malone was an all-American in high school and was highly touted to achieve similar prestige in college. That was the direction his life was headed – until tragedy struck.
One fateful summer he was working a camp for kids as a track instructor. Malone was supervising a game on the shores of a lake where the kids goal was to run in the water, retrieve a ball, and bring it back onshore. Before starting, he planned on showing his youthful audience how the game was supposed to be played. After clearing the shoreline, he decided to dive in head first for the ball – this is the moment that changed his life forever.
The spot he dove into was deceptively shallow, and his head unexpectedly hit against the lake floor with a violent force – the pressure was so severe he broke a few vertebrae in his neck. After being rushed to the hospital, the doctor delivered what anyone would describe as grim news, but was more devastating for someone his age. The doctors told Malone he was paralyzed from the waist down–even worse–they also said he would never walk again.
Two years later, he successfully beat the odds and he was now walking again. Albeit with a slight hitch, but nonetheless he outperformed everyone's expectations and was in need of no assistance, the doctors said it was a miracle.
Malone's face, which was once clean-shaven, was now replaced with an honorable and distinguished beard. There were still complications, but you never heard him complaining about it and I can't recall ever seeing him without a smile on his face.
His outlook on life was better than any person I ever encountered. It must be hard having your life's identity taken away from you in an instant and then be forced to start over from scratch, but he never seemed to look back.
He solely focused on his paintings and artwork, a newfound passion, which came to light after his near-death experience.
Tiffany was sprawled out in the bed wearing bright pink panties and a long-sleeved silk rainbow colored pajama top. I hopped in next to her and sat motionless for the next few minutes. She didn't say a word; likely due to the embarrassment over the hit-and-run I assumed BJ conducted just minutes ago.
There were two options: I either needed to dive in or get up and rejoin the party. So I placed my hand against her thigh to test the waters. It was a typical step-by-step approach, you know, see how far you can get. I guess my turtle-esque pace annoyed her because she grabbed my hand and stuck my fingers directly inside her.
Just as the moment was heating up, I looked over the headboard and wasn't surprised at all by what I saw through the window. Justin was grinning at me, nodding his head up and down with a crew of people surrounding him on the back deck. They were all watching me, with beers in hand, for who knows how long – I'm sure BJ tipped them off.
Every now and then I would look up and see them pumping their fists, rooting me on and occasionally performing play-by-play commentary. I soon joined my fellow comrades on the back deck, who apparently felt obligated to give me advice on my technique.
We arrived in Chesapeake the next day and Justin received a phone call; it was his agent and he wanted to share good news. He just finalized Justin's signing bonus for $6.1 Million; the highest deal ever for a high school draftee.
Justin kicked back in the laz-e-boy in my living room and smiled. I knew he wanted to stand up and scream "Hahaha! I'm rich!" but he probably didn't think I wanted to hear it. Truthfully, if he had, I would have jumped up, screamed and danced with him; he was rich.
However, I had my own season to focus on at VCU.
I arrived in Richmond at my off-campus apartment, which I shared with my roommate Malone, who had a rather unique and peculiar background. He attended the College of William and Mary on an athletic scholarship for running track. Malone was an all-American in high school and was highly touted to achieve similar prestige in college. That was the direction his life was headed – until tragedy struck.
One fateful summer he was working a camp for kids as a track instructor. Malone was supervising a game on the shores of a lake where the kids goal was to run in the water, retrieve a ball, and bring it back onshore. Before starting, he planned on showing his youthful audience how the game was supposed to be played. After clearing the shoreline, he decided to dive in head first for the ball – this is the moment that changed his life forever.
The spot he dove into was deceptively shallow, and his head unexpectedly hit against the lake floor with a violent force – the pressure was so severe he broke a few vertebrae in his neck. After being rushed to the hospital, the doctor delivered what anyone would describe as grim news, but was more devastating for someone his age. The doctors told Malone he was paralyzed from the waist down–even worse–they also said he would never walk again.
Two years later, he successfully beat the odds and he was now walking again. Albeit with a slight hitch, but nonetheless he outperformed everyone's expectations and was in need of no assistance, the doctors said it was a miracle.
Malone's face, which was once clean-shaven, was now replaced with an honorable and distinguished beard. There were still complications, but you never heard him complaining about it and I can't recall ever seeing him without a smile on his face.
His outlook on life was better than any person I ever encountered. It must be hard having your life's identity taken away from you in an instant and then be forced to start over from scratch, but he never seemed to look back.
He solely focused on his paintings and artwork, a newfound passion, which came to light after his near-death experience.
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