Player Season: The Pickup Artist Who Hacked Nike by Brad Stephenson Read Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Brad Stephenson
He cared very little for everyday distractions most people deemed important. His cell phone was treated like a landline, never leaving the apartment whenever he took off to roam the campus or visit the museum. He was a true maverick, a freethinker and a non-conformist with a perspective others simply were incapable of relating to. Although he would never expect it; I envied him.
My sophomore season was under way and I was back on the field. Once again, I was competing for the starting catcher's position and getting three hits during my first game seemed like a promising inception.
One month into the season and I felt as though I was outperforming my competition, so far my only gaffe was showing up to a game wearing the wrong colored pants. Yet the coach was still splitting time between us.
Going to the field knowing you're going to play is exciting, but the thing was, I never knew. Playing 50% of the time left me disinterested and unmotivated, I was beginning to enjoy my time off the field, hanging out with Malone, more than I did my time on the field. Due to my past, this wasn't a good sign.
There was one vice I used to escape anything that was bothering me on the field, and it was weed. Everyday I returned home, I'd roll up a joint and spend the next hour playing backgammon against Malone. After that, he would usually accompany me to parties on campus with my teammates.
He never deviated from his customary wardrobe: blue jeans, track jacket and an all-black Baltimore Orioles baseball cap.
At first, people looked at him like 'Who is this bearded guy with the track jacket?' However, once his positive presence was cast upon everyone, with a never-ending illuminated smile on top of his witty remarks, they fell in love with him.
After eternally engraving himself in their memories, if I dared to show up without him they would look at me disappointedly and ask 'Hey man, where is Malone?'
Then during a night out, following some intense drinking, Malone did what might still be the coolest thing I have ever witnessed. We were walking back to the apartment when he asked me a shocking question.
"Want to see if I can run?" Malone inquisitively asked.
"Hell yeah, don't hurt yourself though," I told him.
"I'll be just fine," he rebuffed.
Without any preparation, he took off! My initial concern rapidly turned into astonishment, confusion and admiration he looked better running than he did walking! In fact, his running form was flawless, like a gazelle – I was in awe.
"You're better at running than you are at walking!" I excitedly told him.
"Yeah, not too bad huh? I feel good," Malone replied.
He acted as if it was nothing special but I thought it was quite an accomplishment, and a humble one.
So far I learned that when life is going your way, get ready for a curve; even though my experiences were mostly derived from self-destructive curves.
The next week wasn't much different. Our team had a road trip on Friday, and I was up on Thursday night until 4am smoking weed and playing a NCAA baseball video game. I suppose it was more enticing to play 100% of the time in a virtual world as opposed to 50% of the time in real life. I'm not sure if I considered this a lack of preparation or a loss of interest but either way, I was supposed to be on the bus at 9am the following morning.
Having already dealt with an alarm clock debacle at ECU, I made sure to set the alarm plugged into my wall as well as the one on my phone for 8:15am – then I went to sleep...
I awoke to a ringing sound, but it was muzzled and I couldn't figure out its point of origin. Ironic as it may sound, I was dazed and confused.
Soon enough, I located the source; it was my phone and it was lodged underneath my back. I realized it wasn't my alarm; it was a phone call from my teammate Scott Sizemore.
"Hello Scott," I greeted, not knowing the situation.
"Where the hell are you man?" Scott imploringly asked.
"Oh shit, what time is it?" I nervously asked
My sophomore season was under way and I was back on the field. Once again, I was competing for the starting catcher's position and getting three hits during my first game seemed like a promising inception.
One month into the season and I felt as though I was outperforming my competition, so far my only gaffe was showing up to a game wearing the wrong colored pants. Yet the coach was still splitting time between us.
Going to the field knowing you're going to play is exciting, but the thing was, I never knew. Playing 50% of the time left me disinterested and unmotivated, I was beginning to enjoy my time off the field, hanging out with Malone, more than I did my time on the field. Due to my past, this wasn't a good sign.
There was one vice I used to escape anything that was bothering me on the field, and it was weed. Everyday I returned home, I'd roll up a joint and spend the next hour playing backgammon against Malone. After that, he would usually accompany me to parties on campus with my teammates.
He never deviated from his customary wardrobe: blue jeans, track jacket and an all-black Baltimore Orioles baseball cap.
At first, people looked at him like 'Who is this bearded guy with the track jacket?' However, once his positive presence was cast upon everyone, with a never-ending illuminated smile on top of his witty remarks, they fell in love with him.
After eternally engraving himself in their memories, if I dared to show up without him they would look at me disappointedly and ask 'Hey man, where is Malone?'
Then during a night out, following some intense drinking, Malone did what might still be the coolest thing I have ever witnessed. We were walking back to the apartment when he asked me a shocking question.
"Want to see if I can run?" Malone inquisitively asked.
"Hell yeah, don't hurt yourself though," I told him.
"I'll be just fine," he rebuffed.
Without any preparation, he took off! My initial concern rapidly turned into astonishment, confusion and admiration he looked better running than he did walking! In fact, his running form was flawless, like a gazelle – I was in awe.
"You're better at running than you are at walking!" I excitedly told him.
"Yeah, not too bad huh? I feel good," Malone replied.
He acted as if it was nothing special but I thought it was quite an accomplishment, and a humble one.
So far I learned that when life is going your way, get ready for a curve; even though my experiences were mostly derived from self-destructive curves.
The next week wasn't much different. Our team had a road trip on Friday, and I was up on Thursday night until 4am smoking weed and playing a NCAA baseball video game. I suppose it was more enticing to play 100% of the time in a virtual world as opposed to 50% of the time in real life. I'm not sure if I considered this a lack of preparation or a loss of interest but either way, I was supposed to be on the bus at 9am the following morning.
Having already dealt with an alarm clock debacle at ECU, I made sure to set the alarm plugged into my wall as well as the one on my phone for 8:15am – then I went to sleep...
I awoke to a ringing sound, but it was muzzled and I couldn't figure out its point of origin. Ironic as it may sound, I was dazed and confused.
Soon enough, I located the source; it was my phone and it was lodged underneath my back. I realized it wasn't my alarm; it was a phone call from my teammate Scott Sizemore.
"Hello Scott," I greeted, not knowing the situation.
"Where the hell are you man?" Scott imploringly asked.
"Oh shit, what time is it?" I nervously asked
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