Always Upbeat / All That (10 page)

All That

No Hating

Do You

Be Real

Got Pride

Copyright © 2012 by Saddleback Educational Publishing

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, scanning, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher. SADDLEBACK EDUCATIONAL PUBLISHING and any associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Saddleback Educational Publishing.

ISBN-13: 978-1-61651-884-4
ISBN-10: 1-61651-884-7
eBook: 978-1-61247-618-6

Printed in Guangzhou, China
0000/00-00-00

16 15 14 13 12   1 2 3 4 5

To Dr. Franklin and Shirley Perry Sr.
(Stephanie's Parents)

We can be all that because you two have always
been in our corner. We want you to know that
your love for us and our children helps us soar.
Thank you for being great examples, and
thank you for showing us the way. We hope every
reader learns they too can be dynamic.

You are the best parents
anyone could ask for … we love you!

When you are a competitor, wanting to win is natural. You prepare for your opponent. You train extra hard. You listen to your coach. When you are good, you want your teammates to be just as stellar. You push them. You encourage them. And you do not let them settle for less. However, as focused as you are, sometimes life happens and throws off your focus. It may be grades, an illness, money problems, girl drama, or anything that gets you down. We know it is hard to have swag when you feel sad.

Nevertheless, we want you to stay focused on your goals while you are going through it. Be a leader in the midst of the strife. Your demeanor can uplift those around you and can change the outcome for the better. The message we want you to grasp … being a true baller does not just mean strutting your stuff when life is good. It means being the man and holding your head up high when you go through tough times.

Here is huge thanks to all those who help us stay driven and prolific.

To Derrick's mother, Ann Redding, your love is all that.

To our publisher, especially Tim McHugh, your idea for this series was all that.

To our extended family: brothers, Dennis Perry and Victor Moore, sister, Sherry Moore, godparents, Walter and Marjorie Kimbrough, nephews, Franklin Perry III and Kadarius Moore, and godsons, Danton Lynn, Dakari Jones, and Dorian Lee, your place in our life is all that to us.

To our assistants: Alyxandra Pinkston and Joy Spencer, your work ethic is all that.

To our friends who mean so much: Jim and Deen Sanders, Antonio and Gloria London, Chett and Lakeba Williams, Bobby and Sarah Lundy, Harry and Torian Colon, Byron and Kim Forest, Donald and Deborah Bradley, your friendship is all that.

To our teens: Dustyn, Sydni, and Sheldyn, the meaning and purpose you give to our lives is all that.

To the media specialists and educational companies across the country who support us: especially, Rhonda Sapp from Delaney Educational, your unending support is all that.

To our new readers, whom we know can apply themselves and be vigorous readers, your efforts to become better is all that.

And to our Lord, who has given us each other and our dreams. Your love for us is all that.

S
on, why are you out here on my practice field if you're not going to really work? Blake Strong, live up to your name. Out here looking weak, giving half effort, and leading like a sissy,” my dad said all up in my grill.

It was the beginning of July, the first practice of the summer. Football was all that I had been training for. It was my junior year—supposedly my time to step up and show college scouts I could play. However, with my dad, Coach Bradley Strong, former NFL player with the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, pushing me so hard, I wanted to quit.

“Did you drink the gallon of water last night so you won't cramp up? You know you can't come out in this heat and not be pre-hydrated. Did you drink the shake this morning? If I don't stay on you, like people have to do with pee-wee players, who knows what you'll end up being. I expect you to come out here and give me one hundred ten percent. It's like you're giving me fifty percent effort. Absolutely unacceptable … go run.”

That was all I wanted him to say. I wanted to be dismissed so I could get away from him. I did love my dad, but he was overboard. Not only was he a fanatic football father, but he also was an obsessed coach. Put those two together, and one could see my world was miserable.

“Defense, huddle up,” he said when I made it to the track.

Going into the season, our team was ranked one of the top in our region in the state. We were stacked with talent on both sides of the ball. All of our talent was coming back. Most of us were juniors. We had one of the best wide receivers in the country, Landon King, the best middle linebacker, my cousin Brenton Strong, and the most ferocious defensive end, Leo Steele. I was one of the top quarterbacks. With great players on both sides of the ball, my dad could smell a state title, and he was pushing super hard.

Landon was my boy, and he ran up beside me. “Don't let him get to you like that.”

Venting, I said, “You don't understand. He's getting on my nerves. He pushes, and I push back, giving him all I got. Then he pushes harder, like he wants me to break. Nothing I do is good enough. Having a dad like him is excruciating.”

Making jokes, Landon said, “Uh-oh, look at you, partna, using big words
excursiate
…
excr
… What?”

“Don't play, and don't try to make me laugh,” I said, smiling anyway. “You know I've been studying for the SAT. I better be, too, because you just can't have skills on the field and not be able to do well on those tests. You feelin' me, son?”

Landon picked up the pace, as I did, and said, “I know. I know. You said it to me tons and tons of times. The lower GPA I have, the higher SAT score I'm required to have.”

Being real, I breathed, “Exactly, but it's all good because you're pulling a three-point-o. But opening up those books and learning those large words would not hurt.”

Landon stopped running. “Well, I see my job's done here,” he said, not wanting me to get on him.

I jogged back over to him and said, “What do you mean?”

“You can't be upset at your dad anymore. You're back in rare Blake form.”

“What does that mean?” I questioned, frustrated with Landon's attempts to cheer me up.

“You know … pushing people and tryna get the best outta your team. Don't stop. You're really a clone of your dad,” Landon said, being my best buddy.

I was tired, exhausted, and beat, but I looked over at the football field and saw the almost hundred athletes and pondered on my duty. I realized that though I had the reputation for being all that, I worked for it. I needed to keep on working for it because I was playing for them. Though I wanted to grab my dad by the collar and absolutely go off on him for being a jerk, I figured I would show him I had what it took.

When the time came for drills, as the quarterback of the team, I had everybody hustling. My energy was high, and the team was feeding off that as if I were fuel for our engine. Personally, I was doing my thing as well. For ten balls straight, my passes were executed and caught right on point. I had the short passes down, the long bombs tight, and all the middle deep throws were accurate too.

After practice my dad called me to his office. “Sorry, I got on you pretty hard out there earlier today, but what I just saw, that's what's gonna get you a D1 scholarship. You wanna be a Florida Gator? Keep ballin' like that and you'll be wearing the blue and orange, baby.”

I did not want to fuss with my father, but he knew I wanted to go to Notre Dame. Yeah, it was not in the powerhouse Southeastern Conference. It was not close to home, but it was my dream school.

Truthfully, I did not want to live in his shadow. He'd wanted me to be a wide receiver. He said African American quarterbacks had it harder and did not really have a chance in the NFL. However, when I told him I wanted to play that position, and he saw that I was smart, determined, and talented, he helped me learn the game. Now that it was almost time for Friday night lights, I was ready.

Pushing more, he asked, “So what time you going to the gym?”

“I just thought I'd chill out for a minute, Dad. I went to the gym yesterday and the day before that. I was watching film last night. I just wanted to hang out and take Charli to the mall. She wants to pick up something for her mom's birthday,” I uttered, knowing that probably wasn't the truth, but wanting to explain every detail so he would cut me slack.

Getting no slack cut, he voiced, “Take her out to the mall? You aren't no chauffeur, and this isn't the weekend.”

Completely frustrated, I said, “Dang, Dad. It's the summer. Everything you've asked me to do, I've done. Why you on me so much? Ease up some.”

“Oh? You think I'm on you?” my dad said, as he stood behind his desk just inches away from me. “Dang, boy, you make me so angry.”

I got spankings until I was almost in high school. These days I could sometimes see in my dad's eyes that he wanted to take off his belt and use it. However, I was coming into my own.

Being clear, I was not the baddest thing at Lockwood High School because I was his son. I had earned my stripes. I was not arrogant, but I was confident. Fellas admired me, and ladies wanted to get with this. However, I had a girl who was model material. Charli Black was da bomb, and I was super ready to really set off fireworks with her.

I moved to Georgia when my parents' jobs got relocated here in the ninth grade. So much changed that year. The biggest changes were that the whippings stopped and my strength grew. He could not come at me any way he wanted and think I was going to take it. I had respect for him, but he was close to losing it. He was almost schizophrenic. His ways mirrored the disease. One day he was sweet; the next day he was a maniac.

Our relationship was hanging on by a thread, and he definitely didn't strengthen it when he said, “Why don't you act like Brenton? He's never a smart aleck. He always works harder than I ask, and he wants my help.”

I just looked at my dad. I was not about to answer his idiotic question, and I certainly was not going to feel bad that I did not try to compare myself or be like my precious cousin. Brenton is his sister's son. We were born a week apart. He was the oldest, and he would not let me forget. I truly believed if my dad could have his way, he would have switched us at birth.

Like stabbing my heart with a knife and twisting it, my dad said, “Brenton's over there struggling with my sister. The boy don't have nothing. Here you got everything you want, and you just take it for granted, son.”

Dad took pity on his nephew. It was not my fault Brenton's dad got my aunt knocked up, and he had not been seen or heard from since. It
is
my problem that my dad tries to overcompensate. He tries to not only be my cousin's uncle, but his absent father as well. When my dad took me to the zoo, he had to take Brenton too. When my dad bought me a pair of shoes, he had to buy Brenton a pair as well. We were not twins. We were not even brothers, and it truly got under my skin that he thought Brenton was superior to me. Yeah, I knew my dad loved Brenton's toughness. My dad was a linebacker, but I wanted the prima donna spot. So what that I didn't like getting hit? Last time I checked, no team can win without the quarterback.

“Make sure you take Brenton home first, and don't be out long with
that
girl,” my dad said, realizing that I deserved a break. “But just so you know, I will have my foot on your throat till the day you leave here. So accept it.”

I could only nod. He flung his hand in the air, dismissing me. At that moment I wished for the day I was outta there. It could not come soon enough.

As I stepped out of my dad's office, my cousin was in my face.

It wasn't Brenton's fault that my dad wanted him as a son instead of me. But I wanted to knock his pearly whites out of his mouth when he said, “Ready?”

In all honesty, Brenton had not done anything to me but have my back, so with no beef I said, “Yeah, man. Let's roll.”

I looked back in my dad's office, and I could only hope that I would make him proud. I was trying. Eventually he was going to see it because I set the bar even higher for myself than he did. Booyah.

“Hey, baby, can't wait to see ya. What time should I be ready?” my girlfriend, Charli, said.

Just hearing her voice got me all excited. I so wanted to be with her. Her image would not leave my mind. I would be lifting weights, and I would imagine her standing in front of me. I would be asleep, and I would think of her lying next to me. Sometimes I would be driving, and I would imagine her sitting straight on top of me. It was our time.

However, my girl was a little too good, and though she knew I was not a bad boy, she thought I was pretty good too. I had yet to fully experience all of my manhood. However, this was my junior year, my time to come into my own in a lot of ways. Honestly, I only thought it was fair that we'd take our relationship to the next level. I'd done things her way for two years, but now it was time for her to show me and not just tell me how much she truly cared.

“You can't wait to see me, huh?” I said, licking my lips. I could practically taste her neck that I desperately wanted to suck.

“You know I can't,” her sultry voice responded.

“We'll see,” I voiced strongly, unsure if we were on the same page.

“Blake, what are you inferring?”

Blunt as I could be, I shouted, “Inferring, referring, blatantly saying, I'm telling you … I miss you. I had a hard practice, and I need some love.”

“I gotcha,” she said without hesitating.

“Fo' real? You know what I'm talking about, and you got me? You and me? Today? Us?” I said skeptically. I needed her to fully understand what I meant.

“Babe, just come get me. I'm wearing something extra special for you,” Charli Black teased.

“I'm on my way,” I said, as I spun off in the parking lot.

“Why you pressuring that girl?” Brenton said before I could even say bye to my girl.

“Why you all in my conversation?” I said to my cousin, wishing he would hush up and quit being the purity police.

But I don't even know why I asked him that question. I knew he liked my girl. They went way back to middle school, elementary school, or something. Before I moved here, they used to be tight, but he wasn't making a move. I remember living in South Carolina, and all he kept talking about was this cute girl who all the fellas were bending over tryna rap to her. To him she was an angel. The way she walked, the way she talked, and the way she looked, had him smitten.

I remembered going to school with him the first day of ninth grade. I saw this girl whose name I did not know. She was stunning, and I did a double-take. I followed her around, and I was so happy that we were in the same class. When I found out that she was the girl he'd been going on and on about, I was already hooked. What Brenton didn't like was that she was hooked on me too. Practically all ninth grade he and I did not talk. We played ninth grade ball together, and in practice he tried to kill me.

It was not until my dad talked to him that there were no more hits on the quarterback in practice. At first my dad thought it was good that I got punched around, but Brenton wasn't letting up. That whole year more girls were coming at me, but I stayed true to Charli. After Brenton saw I was loyal, I won his trust back. We were blood, and I did not go after his girl intentionally. Once he understood that, he truly could not blame me for liking her the way I did.

Last year got a little rocky. Only holding hands with Charli didn't sit right with me. But if I even thought about getting out of line by trying to talk to someone else, my cousin appeared out of nowhere and was there as my conscience to keep me straight and true with Charli.

“It ain't going down like that this year, cuz,” I said to Brenton, as we rode in the car.

“What are you talking about?” he asked with attitude.

“You watching me twenty-four-seven,” I uttered boldly, as he knew doggone well what I was talking about. “You don't even want me to have friends who are girls. I got this with Charli. Go get some business of your own, man. Dang. She got four friends and ain't none of them with nobody. I could see you not wanting to be with big-mouth Eva, but her twin sister, Ella, is fine. She's sweet, and she won't say two words back at you. And Randal with that mixed latte skin … She's so shy, and so are you. Yeah, Randal might be right up your alley.”

“Who says I'm shy?” Brenton denied.

Peeved, irritated, and annoyed, I forcefully said, “I'm just saying, get some business.”

“Please, cuz, I warned you enough. Make sure you handle yours before you don't have none in that area,” my cousin bluntly said to me.

What was he trying to say? Was he going to take my girl or something? She was where she wanted to be. She loved me too much to even think about him. I was not worried, and I was not thinking about him. I gave him a look that spoke just that. Before the two of us tore each other's heads off in my car, I was interrupted by a ring of the cell phone. I looked down, and it was a number I did not recognize. Brenton looked at my phone and saw it wasn't Charli.