Back Like He Never Left
“The Vandy social media buzz is saying they’re going to pull off another upset this Saturday over a Louisiana school. I’m Shawn Guerrero and with me is my co-host Dex Caldwell, and we’re going to run through the scenarios where that just might be possible. But before that, let’s talk about the Pac-12 race and who’s looking like championship contenders.”
“Hold on, Shawn. I don’t know if you saw the videos on social of Tulane’s practice today, but I did and well…”
“And?”
“You remember that old meme from way back in the day of the kid saying, ‘I’m in danger?’ Just slap a Commodore hat on it, because there isn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that Vanderbilt is going to even keep this game close. They have a very big player with a very big chip on his shoulder.”
-*****-
Caesar grabbed his helmet from the top shelf of his locker, noticing the thin layer of dust that had begun to form on it after not being touched for weeks. A part of him was angry that they didn’t even have the decency to redo the marked-up decals after the last game he played in. It was like as soon as he was ineligible he no longer existed.
Sucking his teeth, he walked out of the empty locker room and headed for the field.
It felt like it had been an eternity since he’d heard the clack of cleats against the concrete in the tunnel and smelled the whiffs of gameday food being prepared a little too early, only for it to be shipped next door for a soccer game or somewhere else for basketball. Like the neglected helmet, it only served to make him angrier.
Someone hundreds of miles away had decided he cheated because he was too good. Someone miles away decided that because he didn’t go to Alabama or USC or Ohio State and therefore something was wrong, and he cheated.
And to say he cheated was wrong on its face.
He didn’t take anything. He didn’t cut any corners. He didn’t lie on any forms. He was simply better. Better than everyone else.
So, because they couldn’t stop him on the field, they stopped him in some boardroom somewhere in Indianapolis.
And look where that left them.
The team was already in the midst of practice by the time he stepped on the field, made late by a medical clearance check-up to see if he was ready to return to action after a few weeks on the sideline – on his couch, rather. More NCAA bureaucracy meant to avoid lawsuits; he was told.
He pushed his way to the front of the players before him, pulling on his helmet as he did.
Coach Shuman glanced to his right, tapping a tablet against his hand as he watched the team. The old ball coach raised his eyebrow and gave Caesar a once over.
“You don’t think you need to go stretch and warm-up, Jenkins?” the man said, nodding toward the far endzone where Caesar would have space to do so.
Caesar only shook his head.
Coach Shuman blew his whistle and gestured toward Arion, beckoning for the junior to make way for Caesar. Arion fist bumped Caesar as the two receivers walked in opposite directions.
The journalists who were watching practice perked up when they say #17 back in the huddle. The story shifted for them. It wasn’t about whatever Coach Shuman would update them on after practice anymore. Many of them moved so close to the action that they were almost blending into the team’s staff.
“That boy back, baby,” Tyrone said, dapping Caesar up when he got to the huddle.
Darren slapped him on the back of the helmet before turning to Coach Harley for the next play.
Caesar listened to the play call but still simmered with anger. He walked to his – his – spot out wide when the huddle broke and stared at Christian lined up opposite of him. Marcus shouted an adjustment from safety and the defense shifted.
Darren called for the snap. Caesar jogged forward, planted his foot and burst toward the middle of the field. Finding a soft spot in the zone the coverage had fallen into, he settled down and turned toward the line of scrimmage. Moments later, Darren fired the ball into him for an easy catch.
He turned upfield and was almost immediately met by Blair. The linebacker wrapped him up, but Caesar all but punched the senior in his head. Blair was known for his physicality, but even he was shocked by a stiff arm like that in practice and loosened his grip, allowing Caesar to get his legs moving forward and dragging Blair along.
It took another two players to get his momentum slowed to the point Coach Shuman blew the play dead before one of them got hurt.
The journalists moved a little closer.
…
Devin gave Kendall a little shove before turning to run with the receiver. The senior got on the inside of him, planted his foot and broke toward the numbers before planting his foot again and cutting back toward the sideline.
It was all Devin could do to not bite too hard on the double move. Kendall glanced back over his shoulder and brought his hands up so Devin lunged forward and got just enough of his hand in the way to bat the ball away without bundling into Kendall first.
Kendall cursed under his breath as whistles from back down the field were heard. He scooped up the ball and threw it in the general direction of where the rest of the team was.
“I thought I had your ass,” the senior said, laughing and smacked Devin on his shoulder pads as the two of them jogged back.
“I got lucky.”
Ahead of them, Hayden was getting into it with Caesar and the two of them had to be separated by the coaching staff.
“Calm your fucking ass down. This is practice, you goofy motherfucker!” Hayden shouted as he was shoved back by Coach Major. He lunged toward Caesar again, but enough space had already been created between them that they wouldn’t come to blows.
“I just chipped you, pussy,” Caesar said, shrugging as he walked back to the offensive huddle, led away by Coach Simmons and Coach Scott.
“How the fuck you chip someone ten yards down field? We rewriting the rules of football out here now? Y’all better not send his ass across the middle or it’s light outs for y’all boy,” Hayden said to Coach Harley, pointing at Caesar.
Devin and Kendall looked at one another. Devin shook his head. Kendall shrugged.
“There goes the fucking neighborhood,” Devin said under his breath to himself as he walked back to the defensive huddle.
He’d begun to enjoy football without Caesar again and was probably the only person on the team that was hoping his suspension would turn into something more permanent than a few games.
And it looked like he had only come back as a bigger piece of shit than he had been before the suspension which wasn’t going to do anything but cause headaches for everyone on the team when what happened on the field mattered.
…
Caesar burst off the line and got to the inside of Christian after the junior’s attempt to jam him at the line. He made a slight cut toward the middle of the field and brought in Darren’s pass with one hand with only the smallest hitch in his stride.
He saw Hayden running toward him and picked up speed, making a bee-line for the safety. They both lowered their shoulders. The two collided at full speed with the thud of pads hitting one another sounding.
Caesar stumbled over Hayden as the force of the collision knocked Hayden back. As he fell over, Caesar landed crotch-first on Hayden’s helmet.
The safety quickly shoved him away as he sprung to his feet.
“How’s my dick taste, bitch?” Caesar asked, throwing the ball at him.
Hayden grabbed Caesar’s facemask and swung him around in an attempt to throw him to the ground, pulling the helmet awkwardly up over his face. Caesar threw a punch at Hayden but only succeeded in hitting him in the helmet with his arm.
Caesar’s helmet eventually came off and he threw another punch but missed again. Hayden dropped the helmet and lunged at him to try to take him down again.
The two of them were broken up before things could escalate beyond the insults they continued to throw at one another as the coaching staff shoved them to opposite sidelines.
-*****-
Caesar, Darren, Tyrone, Junie and Kerby walked across the quiet campus after practice, aside from the sounds of the cars passing around them and the typical noises that the night in New Orleans provided on a daily basis.
Caesar walked behind the others, not engaging in the conversation as he adjusted the bag of ice that he’d wrapped around his arm and stared off into the distance. The almost bitterly cold air whipping off the lake and the river made the ice feel colder than it was, but he’d survive a short walk out in the elements.
“We gotta hit Bourbon or something. Celebrate that boy Caesar bein’ back out on the field, ready to rumble,” Tyrone said, pointing over his shoulder at Caesar.
“It’s Tuesday,” Darren said, raising an eyebrow. “The last place I want to be tonight is at a strip club on a motherfucking Tuesday. They are sorority houses all around here if you want to see some titties that you don’t have to watch your step around.”
“Older the berry, sweeter the juice, bruh.”
“It’s blacker the berry. It’s always been blacker the berry,” Junie said. “Old berries are rotten. Fuck I look like puttin’ century year old coochie in my face?”
“How often
you get 20 year old coochie in your face, my nigga?’ Tyrone asked, earning a shove from Junie. “You better take what you can get. Kerby, tell ya brother that ain’t nothin’ wrong with some well-seasoned women.”
The younger Greer brother held his hands up. “Hey, man. I’m just along for the ride. I finally realized them Divine Nine bitches where it’s at and now I ain’t got to do shit. Y’all could learn a thing or two instead of messin’ with them white girls.”
“Bro,” Darren said, looking at Kerby and shaking his head. “Really? I know you’ve seen all that Delta shit Ramona has. You’re new to the game.”
“And I got the kufi back at the house,” Tyrone said. “As-salamu alaykum, my good brother.”
“You goin’ to hell for sayin’ that shit after lyin’ your ass off,” Junie said.
Caesar’s phone pinged twice in his pocket. Pulling it out, he glanced at the two texts that were on top of the long list of notifications before putting the phone back in his pocket. He broke off from the group and started to head to his building.
Hearing the sound of the grass crunching, Darren looked over his shoulder.
“Hey, man! Where you going? You can’t leave us hanging on your first day back off the porch,” he said as he stopped walking.
“I’ll catch up,” Caesar said over his shoulder. “Just text me where y’all end up.”
“Man, stop playin’ and bring your ass on. That girl probably tired of seein’ you after the last month. Give her a break!” Tyrone shouted.
Caesar ignored Tyrone’s joke and continued walking toward the dorm.
…
Gia stood outside of the building, shivering from the falling temperature. If there was ever a reason that she would leave Louisiana behind for good, it would be the constant extremes of the weather. Only a few hours ago, it was a balmy 83 degrees in New Orleans. Now, it was in the 50s – and she had been waiting for what felt like all those hours.
She spotted Caesar walking toward her and waited as he took his time to get to where she stood. She pulled her arms, crossed over her chest, closer to get more warmth from the sweatshirt she was wearing.
“You should have told me when you were going to get here instead of that vague bullshit you said,” she said.
He hiked his duffel bag up on his shoulder then gestured to it. “I’m coming from fucking practice. We’re done when Shuman says we’re done. If you want to take up a problem with time management then you can take it up with him.”
She rolled her eyes and dropped her arms to her sides. “What do you want, Caesar? I don’t think we should be talking. Everything’s fucked up enough as it is.”
“Yet here you are,” he said. He opened the door to the res hall and held it open for her to walk into the building ahead of her.
She took a step toward the door but hesitated and stopped.
Shrugging, he stepped inside and let the door begin to close, but she stopped it before it shut and followed him to the elevators.
The two of them walked through the halls in silence, and they got onto the elevator in silence. Caesar wore an almost bored look on his face as he waited for the elevator to start moving. However, Gia moved a bit further from him and began absently swiping on her phone.
“No one’s going to think you’re not in here with me,” he said as the elevator doors slid open on the fifth floor.
“I— Well— I—”
“Right. Award winning speech right there.”
The two of them made their way to Caesar’s room and stepped inside after he unlocked the door. He tossed his duffel bag on the floor and walked over to the unmade bed, sitting down on it. He pulled out his phone and answered a few texts.
Gia stopped just in front of the door and looked around at the mostly disheveled room. Clothes were strewn across chairs and things looked out of place. When she was last in there, you could easily see whose side of the room was whose from how clean Caesar’s side was.
It looked like a tornado had hit the whole room.
“Fall cleaning?” she asked, nudging an expensive looking shirt that was on the floor with her foot.
“I’m throwing all that shit away and buying new shit,” he said, waving his hand at the mess.
“Why is your roommate never here?”
He put his phone down on the nightstand. “You’ve been in here like three times. I don’t think you can make the call that my roommate is never here, but fuck that kid. He’s a little bitch and I’m glad he keeps his time in here to a minimum.”
Gia whistled.
“Guess you two aren’t all that close.”
“You want to keep fucking?” he asked, changing the subject abruptly.
“Wait—what?”
“Does thou wish to continue engaging sexual intercourse with me on the occasion that you are requiring of penis?” he asked, his tone mocking.
“What about Kaley?”
He shrugged.
“What about her? That’s your sorority sister. She’s nothing to me. I’m single. Don’t know how someone could get mad about someone doing shit that has nothing to do with them.”
“So, are you trying to replace her with me?” she asked. “No offense, Caesar, but I don’t think I trust you all that much to stay faithful considering. Cheat with me, cheat on me, you know?”
“Who the fuck said we’d be together? I asked you if you wanted to keep fucking not if you wanted to get married,” he said. He brought his hands up and made a triangle with them. He tapped his index fingers together. “It would be like a hierarchy of bitches. You’re at the top then all the other bitches I fuck are backups. Make sense?”
“Wow. That makes me feel great.”
“I mean, I’m not saying you can’t go be unsatisfied with other dudes if I’m otherwise occupied. Again, not trying to be with you. I just thought you had some good pussy and you seemed to enjoy yourself. I prefer to have something reliable in case the chick I find for the night a bit lacking.”
“This is the most unconvincing argument I’ve ever heard,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.
He sighed. “But you’re still listening to it and you walked your ass all the way across campus and all the way up here. You clearly aren’t that uninterested in it.”
“I’m not going to be some dirty secret for you.”
“I’m not the only one in this room with secret lovers, Gia. But fine, we can hang out and shit if that makes you feel better.”
“Fine, but I’m not going to hide it from Kaley. I’m going to be honest about what this is with her.”
Standing up from the bed, he walked over to his desk. He pulled his wallet from a drawer and put it in his pocket.
“Again, that’s your friend. Whatever you do or don’t tell her is no concern of mine,” he said as he squeezed by her and opened the door. He waved for her to leave.
She furrowed her eyebrows but didn’t move. “That’s all you asked me to come over here for?”
“I’m leaving. We’re going to Bourbon. I’ll text you on the way back to see if you want to fuck if I don’t run into something else out there.”
“Already fucking regretting this,” she said, pushing past him into the hall. “Maybe I’ll have found something better for the night.”
“You won’t.”
He shut the door and followed her to the elevator.
-*****-
Christian and Devin walked into a meeting room in the school’s student center. Inside a number of athletes from Tulane’s various sports mingled in conversation with one another.
Devin recognized a few of them either from his attempts to take more of an interest in sports other than football or from passings by in the athletics building. But he did feel a bit bad for not knowing more of them. After all, these were the types of people who would best know his plight of trying to navigate life at a what many would consider a Southern Ivy while being an athlete.
“We all meet once a month. Meet and greets, basically. We’re all in the same boat so it’s good to know each other. Besides, all good people. This is the closest thing you’re ever going to get to a union at an American university until someone gets the labor board to see athletes as employees of the universities,” Christian said, gesturing to the other people in the room as he explained.
“We’re not employees?”
“Nah. Everyone considered that a closed question when NIL came around, but we still have power in numbers even if not on the books, right? Grambling used to have terrible facilities. Black mold and everything. Then all their athletes kept refusing to play. You’d get threats to pull scholarships and shit, but what are you going to do? Recruit another 500 athletes next year? Good luck with that.”
“Makes sense,” Devin said.
“You always have to keep an eye on what the folks up front are doing. We don’t have the problems here that Grambling had because we’re private and they’re an HBCU relying on, unfortunately, Louisiana for their budget but that doesn’t mean they can’t try to fuck us over. We make them money by putting our bodies on the line. And whether they want to admit it or not, they’ll push that to the limits for a few extra dollars. Tulane didn’t rejoin the SEC because it’s a collection of universities with stellar academics,” Christian said.
Devin nodded as he listened. It all made sense to him, as much sense as it could make with his limited understanding of things beyond football and class.
Of course, Christian would be the one involved in this. No one could figure out how he had the time for everything he did but he made it happen.
Out of curiosity, Devin had checked the mock drafts for the upcoming NFL Draft and while his scout report was glittering as one of the top corners in the country – he was slated as a third-round pick as best.
Because, according to the site, general managers were unsure if his heart was in football at the pro level.
That didn’t seem to bother Christian, though.
“C’mon. You have to move around and meet folks,” Christian said, dragging Devin along as he moved through the crowd of people.
He stopped when he came to two guys and a girl. They paused their conversation to greet him.
“What’s up, bro?” a tall, lanky white guy said, dapping up Christian. He was taller than both Christian and Devin by a couple of inches. To Devin, the guy just looked like the stereotypical baseball player even without the Tulane baseball hoodie he wore.
“Another day in paradise as you would say.” He turned to Devin. “This is my boy, Drew Gautreaux. He’s from down your neck of the woods, I think?”
Drew nodded. “You went to school with my little cousin. He lived in Dularge. I went to H.L. though and been here and there for a few years before you even sprung up.”
The other guy nudged the girl with his elbow and pointed between Drew and Devin. “You know how happy he is that he’ll be able to say that Cajun French shit and someone will understand him now? Man been waiting for that for years.”
“Do I have to remind you that we’re in New Orleans? On parle tous un peu français! Right, Devin?”
Devin shrugged. “I only know a little from one of my ex’s parents.”
“Mais, c’mon now,” Drew said, shaking his head. “You can’t be coming up here making us look bad. I’m going to have to teach you some of our language so you can represent right.”
Christian laughed. He pointed to the other two in the group. The other guy dwarfed Drew a bit. “Cortez Vail, or as I like to call him fake ass Victor Wenbanyama.”
“You still mad about that time I dunked on your bitch ass at the rec, huh?” Cortez said, laughing. He turned to Devin. “Yo, when I tell you that some people need to stick to what they do best and not try to play any other sport? Christian that dude. This man got a jumper that a toddler can send. And don’t even get me started on his handles.”
“You just tall, bro,” Christian said. “Anyway, this is—”
“I’m a grown ass woman. I can speak for myself,” she said, raising her eyebrow.
Christian held his hands up. “My bad.”
“Tyesha,” she said to Devin.
Devin nodded his greeting. He’d heard of her before. A transfer from LSU, she was a track star. A future Olympian depending on who you asked. If you asked other people, they just said she was Sha’Carri Richardson 2.0 in more ways than one.
“How’d you get unlucky enough to have this clown following you around?” Tyesha asked, pointing to Christian.
“He ain’t so bad once you get used to him,” Devin said with a shrug. “I just don’t know when I’m going to get used to him. Maybe by the time he graduates.”
“We’re supposed to be family, man,” Christian said, holding his hand against his chest. “I’m going to tell the guys to put your ass out the group chat for that one.”
“If family can’t clown you from time to time, then who can?” Devin asked.
Cortez pulled his phone out of his pocket. “If you really want to get a laugh at my boy’s expense, let me show that time I dunked on him.”
“Why do you even still have that?” Christian asked, shaking his head but glancing down at the phone all the same.
Drew laughed. “If I dunked on anyone, I would keep that shit for the rest of my life, too. Especially if I dunked on someone who is actually athletic.”
Tyesha leaned over to Devin. “I’m not saying it’s a stereotype that he can’t dunk, but don’t you think someone who is like 6’5” should be able to at least grab the rim?”
“I would say so,” Devin said, nodding.
“I heard that shit. It’s 2052. We have to stop putting people down for their inability to dunk,” Drew said.
“I mean, you
are like 6’5” and baseball players jump all the time.”
“Outfielders jump all the time. All I do is throw it and hope they aren’t jumping at the wall because it got cracked,” he said. “But if Christian can claim that family bit, I should be able to! We’re from the same city, man!”
“Again, if family can’t clown you from time to time, then who can?”
“Yo, I like him already,” Tyesha said, laughing. “You ain’t shit because you football niggas get all the good shit but you alright. Just help me out and slide me some of the shit they give you that you don’t want.”
Devin looked her over.
“I don’t think we’re the same size.”
“For free shit? I’ll make it work.”
Christian looked up. “What happened to ‘ain’t shit free about you,’ Tyesha?”
“About
me,” she corrected. “Don’t stick your nose in grown folks business. We negotiating over here. Just let me know when you don’t want something. I’ll make it work.”
“You got it,” Devin said, laughing.