It was the first time in six months anyone had asked me that. The next few weeks were a slow-motion train wreck. Dylan threw himself into rehab with a toxic fury. He wanted to be back for the state championship. He wanted to reclaim his throne. But he also became cruel. He called Marcus “the janitor” because “he just cleans up other people’s messes.” He started snapping at me for small things—being two minutes late, wearing the wrong color nail polish, breathing too loud.
It’s the story of realizing that you don’t want to be in the spotlight. Sidelined- The QB and Me
But I wasn’t watching the celebration. I was watching Marcus extricate himself from the pile. He didn’t raise his arms in triumph. He didn’t point to the sky. He just jogged to the sideline, grabbed a towel, and wiped the mud from his face. It was the first time in six months anyone had asked me that
I said, “He’s winning.”
He looked at the screen where Dylan’s old highlight reel was playing. “I want to win,” he said. “Being the guy is just marketing.” He wanted to be back for the state championship
The play was a simple stick-nod. Not the Hail Mary everyone expected. Marcus dropped back. The pocket collapsed. He scrambled—something he never did—and at the last second, he lobbed the ball to the back corner of the end zone. A freshman tight end caught it. One foot down. Touchdown.
Then he looked up at me again. And shrugged. As if to say, That’s all I had. Dylan transferred to a private academy the next semester. He got his ACL fixed and his ego bruised. Last I heard, he’s the third-string QB at a junior college in Kansas. He sends me drunk DMs sometimes: “You should’ve waited.”