War of the Roses: Redux Edition
Posted: 02 Aug 2019, 19:56
Behold the Titans
“Louisiana high school football fans, hell, any high school football fan anywhere in the world will be in for a treat come this weekend. Ten of the best football teams this state has to offer will converge in New Orleans and the venerable New Orleans Superdome. But all eyes will be on the Division 3A title game on Saturday, right Jeff?”
“Mais, it don’t get no bigger than this nowhere in the country. On one side, you got John Curtis. Everyone knows Curtis. You’re talking dozens and dozens of kids who are going to be playing on Saturdays and a few that will be playing on Sunday when it’s all said and done. On the other side, you got Vandebilt. They don’t have the history that Curtis has, but they have the talent.”
“The Terriers, much like the Patriots, have romped through the playoffs without breaking a sweat, but let’s run down these lists of players. You have 37 players in the top 100 at their position for their graduating class. Cecil Badoux, the running back for the Patriots, is the #3 recruit in the nation right now and Caesar Jenkins, playing wideout for the Terriers, has already been tabbed as the #1 recruit for the rising junior class. From there, it’s a who’s who of top recruits.”
“They titans of their realm, plain as that. You give me any school from around the country. Don’t matter if they from California, Texas, Alabama, Florida, Georgia, wherever. John Curtis versus Vandebilt this Saturday will be the Super Bowl of High School Championship Games this year. Don’t worry about USAToday using their mathematicians and scientists to figure out who the high school national champion is. Just wait until the end of this one and pick the winner.”
…
“You’re late,” Deion Jenkins said to his son as Caesar stepped into a penthouse suite near the French Quarter overlooking the Mississippi River. The older man turned around and appraised his son’s attire. “At least you took the time to clean up before deciding to grace us with your presence.”
Caesar pulled at the bottom of the sports coat he was wearing. His father had demanded he wear one so he’d gone and bought a new one. His tardiness was on account of him getting it tailored since it wasn’t remotely close to being the right size off the rack. “Sorry, Coach Thomas wanted to make sure that we were all in bed and not partying in the Quarter. You know how they get.”
“Surely, the person who pays his salary has final say over what happens while you all are in New Orleans.” Deion laughed. “Of course, we wouldn’t want you all to miss Mass at the historic cathedrals here.”
Candice walked into the room and directly to the wet bar in the far corner. She poured herself a drink before turning to the men in the room. “You’re chiding your son for being late, but the whole reason you made him come here is also late. Maybe you should tell your friends to be on time.”
“No one asked you for all that lip, woman. I leave you in charge of making sure that our son has enough manners to be on time. As for Ulysses and Yonni, they’re grown men.”
“Grown men who probably had their heads turned by something barely legal in the French Quarter and are going to end up in OPP because of it where they’ll get more than their heads turned.” She turned to Caesar. “Sweetie, don’t listen to your dad. There’s nothing wrong with being fashionably late to things that are focused on you.”
Deion reached into his pocket and pulled out one of three phones he kept with him at all times, walking over to a floor-to-ceiling window and gazing out over the city. “Says the woman who’d be late to your own funeral if someone wasn’t around to tell her what time it was at.”
The elevator dinged and Caesar walked over to enter the code on the keypad to open it. Ulysses and Yonni Williams stood inside of it.
“God damn, boy. You get bigger every fucking time I see you,” Ulysses said, pulling Caesar in for a hug.
Yonni pushed his old college teammate away and shook his head. “That boy don’t want you hugging all on him when you just walked through the Quarter. Look at how he’s dressed.”
“Just following orders,” Caesar said with a shrug.
“About time y’all get here,” Deion said over his shoulder. “Come on and sit down so we can talk before we eat.”
The men sat down in the dining area of the suite.
Ulysses glanced over at Candice who was pouring herself another drink. “You know, Candice, I’ve always been a bit mad that Deion got to you and convinced you to hang up your reporter notebook. I could’ve been the man of your dreams.”
“Oh yeah, Flash. A 5’8” man is all a woman could ever hope for,” she said. “My son would be a midget and I’d have to trade in heels forever.”
“Or you could get yourself some heels, Ulysses.” Deion laughed. “You know you’re more attracted to homely women anyway.”
“Come on now, Deion. Britney’s only put on about 40 pounds since Flash started pumping kids into her like the Handmaid’s Tale was about to become reality,” Yonni said, joining in on the ribbing.
“And yet, you’re a 40-some odd year-old man that is running around trying to get more pussy than the youngster over here.” Ulysses pointed to Caesar. “It’s time to hang up the boots. We ain’t young no more. Those women only want you for your money and that shit is quickly dwindling.”
Caesar laughed as the three men at the table joked with one another. He’d grown up around the two of them and Jack Stone, another Oklahoma State alum. Outside of his Uncle Louis from his mom’s side, who he didn’t really speak to, Ulysses, Yonni, and Jack were the closest things he had to extended family.
“Alright, let’s get down to business before the room service comes,” Deion said. He looked toward his son. “We’re going to go through this whole recruiting thing for appearance purposes, but Ulysses and Yonni are here so they can hear you say that you’re going to be wearing that legendary orange and black in a couple years.”
Yonni nodded. “We’re looking at a good class in 2052 already. You’d be the crown jewel though. Number one recruit? We’d be right back in the national spotlight like when us and your old man used to run Stillwater.”
“What’s the point of going through everything if I’m just going to commit now?” Caesar asked.
“Because they’re not supposed to be here talking to you yet, dumbass,” Deion said. “Can’t meet with Div-I coaches off campus as a sophomore. Didn’t Coach Thomas tell you all all this shit when the season started?”
“Thomas doesn’t know shit about recruiting. But I can just announce my verbal and call it a day. Not worry about this recruiting shit anymore.”
“Your old man’s right about something that he didn’t say, though, kid,” Ulysses said. “Everyone, and I mean everyone, thinks you’re going to be coming to Stillwater in 2052. You and that other—”
“Shut the fuck up,” Deion snapped, drawing a confused look from Caesar and sending Candice, who’d been nursing her fourth drink, into the bedroom.
Ulysses raised his hands up. “With the shit with Boise State, TCU, Indiana and Alabama, the NCAA is going to be looking hard and what happens with your recruitment process. Your dad’s a fucking agent for Christ’s sake. They’d tell you not to speak to your own father if it allowed them to save face.”
“You have to drag it out, kid,” Yonni added. “You gotta make them think that you weren’t ready to be a Cowboy when you came out of the womb. That said, we ain’t got a lot of looking to do in Louisiana. It ain’t our territory. So, if you could tell us today that you’re committing to us, say, this time next year, then I’d really appreciate at.”
Caesar nodded, taking everything in but he remained silent.
Deion smacked the table to get his attention. “This is where you say ‘Yes, I’m going to verbally commit to Oklahoma State sometime during my junior year and then sign officially when the time comes.’”
Ulysses and Yonni looked at him, waiting for him to say it.
“Yeah,” Caesar said. “I’m coming to Oklahoma State, of course. I’ll keep it under wraps until y’all tell me to announce it or whatever.”
“Or whatever? I spend a ridiculous amount of money to send this boy to school and he finishes a sentence with ‘or whatever.’” Deion shook his head. “Go find out what’s taking the room service so long, son.”
Caesar nodded and stood up from the table to do as he was told.
“Louisiana high school football fans, hell, any high school football fan anywhere in the world will be in for a treat come this weekend. Ten of the best football teams this state has to offer will converge in New Orleans and the venerable New Orleans Superdome. But all eyes will be on the Division 3A title game on Saturday, right Jeff?”
“Mais, it don’t get no bigger than this nowhere in the country. On one side, you got John Curtis. Everyone knows Curtis. You’re talking dozens and dozens of kids who are going to be playing on Saturdays and a few that will be playing on Sunday when it’s all said and done. On the other side, you got Vandebilt. They don’t have the history that Curtis has, but they have the talent.”
“The Terriers, much like the Patriots, have romped through the playoffs without breaking a sweat, but let’s run down these lists of players. You have 37 players in the top 100 at their position for their graduating class. Cecil Badoux, the running back for the Patriots, is the #3 recruit in the nation right now and Caesar Jenkins, playing wideout for the Terriers, has already been tabbed as the #1 recruit for the rising junior class. From there, it’s a who’s who of top recruits.”
“They titans of their realm, plain as that. You give me any school from around the country. Don’t matter if they from California, Texas, Alabama, Florida, Georgia, wherever. John Curtis versus Vandebilt this Saturday will be the Super Bowl of High School Championship Games this year. Don’t worry about USAToday using their mathematicians and scientists to figure out who the high school national champion is. Just wait until the end of this one and pick the winner.”
…
“You’re late,” Deion Jenkins said to his son as Caesar stepped into a penthouse suite near the French Quarter overlooking the Mississippi River. The older man turned around and appraised his son’s attire. “At least you took the time to clean up before deciding to grace us with your presence.”
Caesar pulled at the bottom of the sports coat he was wearing. His father had demanded he wear one so he’d gone and bought a new one. His tardiness was on account of him getting it tailored since it wasn’t remotely close to being the right size off the rack. “Sorry, Coach Thomas wanted to make sure that we were all in bed and not partying in the Quarter. You know how they get.”
“Surely, the person who pays his salary has final say over what happens while you all are in New Orleans.” Deion laughed. “Of course, we wouldn’t want you all to miss Mass at the historic cathedrals here.”
Candice walked into the room and directly to the wet bar in the far corner. She poured herself a drink before turning to the men in the room. “You’re chiding your son for being late, but the whole reason you made him come here is also late. Maybe you should tell your friends to be on time.”
“No one asked you for all that lip, woman. I leave you in charge of making sure that our son has enough manners to be on time. As for Ulysses and Yonni, they’re grown men.”
“Grown men who probably had their heads turned by something barely legal in the French Quarter and are going to end up in OPP because of it where they’ll get more than their heads turned.” She turned to Caesar. “Sweetie, don’t listen to your dad. There’s nothing wrong with being fashionably late to things that are focused on you.”
Deion reached into his pocket and pulled out one of three phones he kept with him at all times, walking over to a floor-to-ceiling window and gazing out over the city. “Says the woman who’d be late to your own funeral if someone wasn’t around to tell her what time it was at.”
The elevator dinged and Caesar walked over to enter the code on the keypad to open it. Ulysses and Yonni Williams stood inside of it.
“God damn, boy. You get bigger every fucking time I see you,” Ulysses said, pulling Caesar in for a hug.
Yonni pushed his old college teammate away and shook his head. “That boy don’t want you hugging all on him when you just walked through the Quarter. Look at how he’s dressed.”
“Just following orders,” Caesar said with a shrug.
“About time y’all get here,” Deion said over his shoulder. “Come on and sit down so we can talk before we eat.”
The men sat down in the dining area of the suite.
Ulysses glanced over at Candice who was pouring herself another drink. “You know, Candice, I’ve always been a bit mad that Deion got to you and convinced you to hang up your reporter notebook. I could’ve been the man of your dreams.”
“Oh yeah, Flash. A 5’8” man is all a woman could ever hope for,” she said. “My son would be a midget and I’d have to trade in heels forever.”
“Or you could get yourself some heels, Ulysses.” Deion laughed. “You know you’re more attracted to homely women anyway.”
“Come on now, Deion. Britney’s only put on about 40 pounds since Flash started pumping kids into her like the Handmaid’s Tale was about to become reality,” Yonni said, joining in on the ribbing.
“And yet, you’re a 40-some odd year-old man that is running around trying to get more pussy than the youngster over here.” Ulysses pointed to Caesar. “It’s time to hang up the boots. We ain’t young no more. Those women only want you for your money and that shit is quickly dwindling.”
Caesar laughed as the three men at the table joked with one another. He’d grown up around the two of them and Jack Stone, another Oklahoma State alum. Outside of his Uncle Louis from his mom’s side, who he didn’t really speak to, Ulysses, Yonni, and Jack were the closest things he had to extended family.
“Alright, let’s get down to business before the room service comes,” Deion said. He looked toward his son. “We’re going to go through this whole recruiting thing for appearance purposes, but Ulysses and Yonni are here so they can hear you say that you’re going to be wearing that legendary orange and black in a couple years.”
Yonni nodded. “We’re looking at a good class in 2052 already. You’d be the crown jewel though. Number one recruit? We’d be right back in the national spotlight like when us and your old man used to run Stillwater.”
“What’s the point of going through everything if I’m just going to commit now?” Caesar asked.
“Because they’re not supposed to be here talking to you yet, dumbass,” Deion said. “Can’t meet with Div-I coaches off campus as a sophomore. Didn’t Coach Thomas tell you all all this shit when the season started?”
“Thomas doesn’t know shit about recruiting. But I can just announce my verbal and call it a day. Not worry about this recruiting shit anymore.”
“Your old man’s right about something that he didn’t say, though, kid,” Ulysses said. “Everyone, and I mean everyone, thinks you’re going to be coming to Stillwater in 2052. You and that other—”
“Shut the fuck up,” Deion snapped, drawing a confused look from Caesar and sending Candice, who’d been nursing her fourth drink, into the bedroom.
Ulysses raised his hands up. “With the shit with Boise State, TCU, Indiana and Alabama, the NCAA is going to be looking hard and what happens with your recruitment process. Your dad’s a fucking agent for Christ’s sake. They’d tell you not to speak to your own father if it allowed them to save face.”
“You have to drag it out, kid,” Yonni added. “You gotta make them think that you weren’t ready to be a Cowboy when you came out of the womb. That said, we ain’t got a lot of looking to do in Louisiana. It ain’t our territory. So, if you could tell us today that you’re committing to us, say, this time next year, then I’d really appreciate at.”
Caesar nodded, taking everything in but he remained silent.
Deion smacked the table to get his attention. “This is where you say ‘Yes, I’m going to verbally commit to Oklahoma State sometime during my junior year and then sign officially when the time comes.’”
Ulysses and Yonni looked at him, waiting for him to say it.
“Yeah,” Caesar said. “I’m coming to Oklahoma State, of course. I’ll keep it under wraps until y’all tell me to announce it or whatever.”
“Or whatever? I spend a ridiculous amount of money to send this boy to school and he finishes a sentence with ‘or whatever.’” Deion shook his head. “Go find out what’s taking the room service so long, son.”
Caesar nodded and stood up from the table to do as he was told.