Here’s what it takes:
1. You’re really fast
2. But you’re not too fast. You don’t just run a go route and have the quarterback chuck a bomb after you get behind the defense. You don’t have a track career to fall back on.
3. But, still, you’re really fast.
4. You run as hard as you can when the ball is in your hands, running through tackle attempts from guys 20, 30 pounds heavier than you.
5. You do this even though the whole defense keys on you. Every time you go in motion, every time you line up in the backfield, 11 men across the line of scrimmage want to do nothing more than stop you. You still average nine yards per carry.
6. You’re the best running back on the team, and you don’t play running back.
7. You’re also the best receiver on the team, and you don’t play receiver. Not in the technical sense, at least.
8. Despite not REALLY being a receiver and not REALLY being a running back, NFL scouts want you. They don’t know where exactly to put you, but they think you will make a great new toy.
9. You are used to scouts canonizing your every catch, carry, leap, bound, spin and score. You were the best high school player in America, dammit.
10. You avoid incendiary statements. But sometimes it’s really hard to stay humble. Especially when you are better than everyone else.
11. You’re strong. Deceptively strong. Bench-press-400-plus-pounds strong.
12. An injury to any starter is concerning. But when you go down, the collective breath of Gainesville stops. “Change” is not a strong enough word for what happens to the offense with you hurt and on the sideline. The difference is noticeable even to drunk sorority girls who usually just yell “Get Him! Why don’t you get him?!” during games. The difference is night and day.
13. You are competitive. Not “I’m going to try as hard as I can and hope for the best” competitive. “Michael Jordan” competitive.
14. This competitiveness might be out of proportion, but because this is America and we love winners, we celebrate your hatred of losing. Then again, sports fans are fickle. The moment your “bad attitude,” which is really just the out-of-proportion competitiveness, rears its ugly head, you will be branded as a cancer.
15. When you go to the draft after college, you will fall much farther than you should because, again, you’re a cancer. You’re the type of person who gets barred from athletic competition your last semester of high school after getting in a fight at a basketball game. We hate your competitiveness. Also, you failed a drug test.
16. But who are we kidding? Without that competitiveness, you never would have won state championships in football and track. One of the team’s assistant coaches will have only one job during practice when you are injured: keep you off the field. But you want to be on the field so bad. Your desire to be better than everyone else drives you. You will play in a national championship game with a high ankle sprain and hairline fracture in your lower right leg. And you will be the best player on the field, gaining 174 yards on 14 touches and scoring a touchdown.
17. Oh, and you’re really fast.
