I know you might not think it, but ones in high school labeled as "the jock" aren't living the easy life. I was a student athlete. I played all types of sports but wrestling was what I was best at. I was named All-Conference my junior year, so by the time I was a senior, there was so much pressure for me to achieve more. From my coach, from my teammates, from the students, and especially my old man. The pressure kept mounting and I just buried it deep inside. Then one day, I couldn't take it. I pulled a prank on another student. A prank I'm still to this day not proud of. I taped this kid Larry Lester's buns together. Thing is, I got caught. I had to spend an entire Saturday in detention at my school's library. And I felt bad about the whole thing. I mean, Larry didn't do anything to me. He was just a guy that hung out with the geeks at the school. But I targeted him because I believed he was the weaker one.
And the bizzare thing is that I did it for my old man. I tortured this poor kid because I wanted my old man to think that I was cool. He's always going off about how when he was in school and all the wild things he used to do. And I got the feeling that he was disappointed that I never cut loose on anyone, right? So I'm sitting in the lockeroom and I'm taping up my knee, and Larry's undressing a couple locker's down from me. And he's kinda, he's kinda skinny. Weak. And I started thinkin' about my father, and his attitude about, about weakness. And the next thing I knew, I jumped on top of him and started wailing on him. And my friends, they just laughed and cheered me on. And afterwards, when I'm sitting in Assistant Principal Vernon's office, all I could think about was Larry's father and Larry having to go home and explain what happened to him. And the humiliation... the fucking humiliation he must have felt. It must have been unreal. I mean, how... how do you apologize for something like that? There's no way. It's all because of me and my old man. God, I fucking hate him. He's like this mindless machine that I can't even relate to anymore.
My old man would say, "Jake, you've got to be number one! I won't tolerate any losers in this family! Your intensity is for shit! Win! Win! Win!"
You son of a bitch! You know, sometimes I wished my knee would give. And I wouldn't be able to wrestle anymore.
And he could forget all about me.