There’s meaning behind each of the tattoos that paint CeCe Jefferson’s right arm, and to begin to understand him, you need to understand them.
There’s the number 352 — Jefferson's area code — needled onto his arm, which he got to show he hasn’t forgotten his roots.
There’s #UF19 embroidered on his hand. He got that one to show the loyalty he has to his school.
There’s a large eyeball tattooed on his bicep that only shows when he flexes. He got that one because he “thought that was cool.”
And then there’s the three tattoos that make up the majority of the artwork, all on his forearm. First is a clock. Next are two wolves, one large and one small. And then, tying them together, is a name — Luke.
His full name is Luke Deon Jefferson, CeCe’s son who was born just over a year ago on Aug. 11, 2015, at the time shown on the clock. Jefferson remembers having to leave Fall camp early on Aug. 10 to speed to the hospital.
He got his first glimpse of Luke the next day in the delivery room.
“Damn, he looks just like me,’” Jefferson remembers thinking.
More than a year later, Luke still lives with Jefferson’s girlfriend in his original home of Baker County, just over an hour north of Gainesville. She brings him to visit several times a week, or CeCe drives back to the two of them.
And while many college students try to avoid raising a child while they’re still in school, Jefferson has embraced it. To him, Luke is a blessing, a teacher and a motivator in one two-foot-tall package.
“It’s not difficult at all, man,” he said. “It’s not difficult at all.”
That’s partly because of Luke's grandparents, who provide some financial assistance. But Jefferson knows that won’t last forever, and that’s what fuels him.
It fuels him when he has to get up for 5:30 a.m. workouts for Florida's football team. Nobody — including Jefferson — generally looks forward to them. But now, he doesn’t have a problem.
“I just think about my son, and that makes me get up and go out,” he said.
“Because that’s something I have to do.”
Luke has also forced Jefferson to develop a parent’s reactions.
According to him, becoming a parent is like learning to drive a car. After a while, you can instinctively react to certain situations quickly.
The other day, for example, Jefferson said a UF training staff member placed a child on a small ledge near the team’s locker room.
He bolted — for a fraction of a second — to make sure the child didn’t fall before realizing there was no danger.
“I now see what parents are talking about,” he said.
“Life is bigger than you, man.”
To illustrate that point, Jefferson said back in high school he was more concerned about himself than anything. Now he doesn’t have that luxury, and that’s fine with him.
Because while the bus ride to The Swamp on game day is something that ends with signing autographs, high-fiving and posing for pictures with fans — all things that Jefferson embraces — the destination falls short of another one.
It’s at the end of a long route: From Gainesville, he drives about an hour north to Baker County.
But what lies at the end justifies the trip.
It’s the smaller wolf from his tattoo, waiting for him in a 1-year-old-sized No. 96 jersey.
“What I do now, that’s gonna affect his life,” Jefferson said.
“So that actually makes it easier for me.”
Contact Ethan Bauer at ebauer@alligator.org and follow him on Twitter @ebaueri.
Florida defensive lineman CeCe Jefferson participates in a drill during a Spring practice on March 21, 2016, at the Sanders Football Field.
