I am nothing if not a man of my word. Actually, I may be a sarcastic smart ass, but my word is my bond. Seriously, no fooling. I think it had to do with the all the sense and nonsense Dad drilled into me.
After having a mild cardiac infarction while looking at the out of state tuition costs in North Carolina, my only thought was, “Holy crap.” At most schools, it was about three times the amount of in-state tuition. Excuse me for not being born in the colder of the Carolinas. That plus some other slight details (like a place to live and beer and pizza coin) amounted to a pile of cash I could never climb. God bless Mom and Dad. No matter how harebrained my scheme, they were willing to help finance my education to the extent they could. Unfortunately, that extent barely extended into the foothills of this cash mountain range. After talking to my coach and a couple of scouts he knew, I came to the realization that my gridiron exploits were not as world class as I had hoped when compared to the environs outside of Northeastern Ohio. Coach put my odds at getting a scholarship on the same level as Cindy Crawford accepting my invitation to the senior prom. My next brilliant idea was to talk to my real Cindy.
“Baby, I have thought long and hard about this. I think I have decided that I would like to go to Our Lady of The Lure too.”
“Mick?”
“Yeah, I know it is not a big football school. But maybe I would enjoy the game more in a smaller conference. Like you, I could be a bigger fish in a smaller pond.”
“I am not a fish! And Mick…”
“No, baby, you’re a fox.” Now that was a great recovery. Thanks, Dad, for the somewhat dated, but effective, terminology. “That was just an analogy. And, even though I hate to ask, maybe your dad could put a good word in for me with their athletic scholarship department.”
“I really don’t think that would help. You see…”
“Hey, I know my senior stats don’t look all that great, but…”
“Quiet, silly. I have been trying to tell you. Our Lady of The Lure is an all-girls school.”
“Damn.”
Dad often said that your ball is not always going to land in the middle of the fairway. You should always have a plan B. So I made up plan B on the spot. Glad I put so much thought into what set my future course. Great decision? Well, right now I’m wrapped up like a baked potato. And I need to pee…
“Maybe I should think about getting a job near your campus. I could save some money and wait a while before I go to college.”
”Now that is something Daddy can help you with!’’
As girlfriends’ fathers go, Mr. Copeland was not the worst. I’ve seen the extremes from a dad offering to help me shop and pay for engagement rings (run for the hills) to a silent but meaningful dad demonstration of how to castrate a bull (back away slowly and then run for the hills). Speaking of bulls, Mr. Copeland was built like one. He was about five eight with short thick legs. He must have had a fifty-two inch chest with just the hint of flab around the middle. His arms looked like he had once been into heavy weights but gave it up later in life. He had virtually no neck. His eyes were a startling blue like his daughter’s but, unlike Cindy’s, they were squinted and piercing. He was pretty scary but more normal than abnormal (hopefully).
Mrs. Copeland was a real estate agent and the head of numerous volunteer activities. Every time I went over to Cindy’s house, she was out on business or at some charity function. I saw pictures of her, but never met her in person. Cindy had a two year old sister, Darlene. That meant Mrs. Copeland was home on at least one occasion. I was introduced to their nanny, Rosie Gomez, who was very good looking for a lady over thirty. I think it really irked Mom that I was dating a girl who had a nanny.
After some deep breathing exercises to calm my nerves, I managed to put on my big boy pants and venture into the bull ring to tell Mr. C. of my plans.
“Now let me get this straight. My daughter has a bright future ahead of her and wants to pursue her dream using something she is quite talented at.”
That very dangerous voice in the dark crevices of my cranium was whispering how funny it would be to tell him I knew something dreamy that she was quite talented at. However, in a rare moment of clarity, I opted to just keep my yap shut.
“And you. You’re a kid barely out of high school with no clear educational or job prospects who wants to follow my sweet daughter out of state and live in close proximity by yourself because you think you are in love with her.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you want my help at getting a job near Our Lady of The Lure so all this can happen.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Normally, I’d throw you outta here on your ass faster than you could say ‘Jackie Robinson.’”
Cool old dude baseball reference.
“However, you’re very lucky in that you have several things breaking in your favor. First, I trust my daughter completely. I’ve raised her to make her own decisions. And she has always made good ones. Second, in case this is the one time she hasn’t, a good friend of mine is quite adept at castrating bulls, if you get my drift.”
Huh, small world. “Yes, sir.”
“Third, I’m a very successful businessman. I didn’t get that way by being soft or a bad judge of character. From what Cindy has told me about you, you seem loyal and hardworking. Someone I can trust and she can trust. Even with a fruity name like Mick. Am I right about you, boy?”
Double huh. “Yes, sir.”
“You ever see the movie The Deer Hunter?”
Triple huh. “Yes, sir.”
“I’m giving you one shot. I’m going to make a phone call. I’ll set you up an interview with a new start up business a friend of a friend of a friend has formed just outside of Asheville. I think he is looking to hire a smart young buck to help get things rolling. So, that’s it. It will be up to you to impress upon him that the buck stops with you.”
Now, I’m pretty sure the dude in that movie blew his head off with that “one shot.” But this sounded like the best deal I was going to get. So I very smoothly and cleverly responded, “Yes, sir.”