Burnt Out
“Faster, faster, faster!” says my dad as I run my 15th stadium.
“Dad please can I just rest for a second?” I say leaning down on my knees trying to catch my breath. And just like that I have summed up my entire 18 years of life. I am a senior in highschool and have devoted my entire life to the sport I love. Football. Or at least the sport that my dad wants me to love as much as he does.

“Beep, beep, beep” I groggily turn over and snooze my alarm going off on my alarm clock. I lean over and grab my phone to check the time and see the messages that I have. It’s 6:05 in the morning and I have one unread text from my dad.
“Don't you forget to wake up and go on your early morning run it's your senior year make something of yourself for once.” This same thing repeats itself every day for the entire summer. Wake up, eat, run, work out, sleep, repeat every day. No days off. Constant reminders of, your not big enough go lift, your not fast enough go run.

It was July 20th, only a couple weeks before school started in the state of Alabama, but more importantly to my family only a couple weeks before football season kicks up into full blast. I come home from my girlfriends house around 8 o’clock at night the sun just starting to set down under the tree line across from my house. I open the screen door of the house getting a big whiff of home style cooking. My mom is easily the best cook in the town, or at least in my book she is.  As I walk through the laundry room ready to greet my family I get the sight and sound of the thing I hate the most. My drunk father. Beer cans laid all over the floor the remnants of the beer spilling on our hardwood floor making it sticky to the touch. The sound of my dad yelling slurred cuss words at my innocent mom. Telling her to bring him another beer.
“whats up pops” I said to him as I walked past him to get to my room.
“You're late” he says to me as he grabs my arm harder than he should be.
“No you said I didn’t have to be home ti” I didn’t get to finish my sentence before he stood up and was in my face.
“You talking back to me boy” I could feel the mixture of beer and anger coming at me just through the tone of his voice.
“No sir” I usually say this phrase with fear pitted in my stomach, but not tonight. Tonight I had anger rising inside of me.
“Actually I am talking back to you, you stupid drunk.” I said as he turned his back to me. With no hesitation there was a fist being thrown directly at my face. Being completely caught off guard the fist catches me dead in the mouth.
“Don’t you ever raise your voice at me again boy otherwise there will be a hell of alot more of those coming in your direction.” He yells at me. My mouth bleeding through my hands dripping on to the beer covered floor. I can’t even get a comment back through the mixture of pain and shock. I turn and stumble into my room. I can hear yelling between my mother and father going on just outside my door. When the yelling dies down and my bleeding has stopped is when I finally got the courage to stick my head out through the door. Only to see my dad.
“Where is mom?” I ask him
“The dumb broad went to stay with her mom for the night just stay in your da** room” he answers back to me. Something down inside of my just snapped. I was so tired of his bull crap. I slam my door and just start grabbing clothes. Shorts, shirts, underwear, socks, and my football gear. I put it all in one bag and walk out my door. My dad looks me up and down as I stand in front of him. He looks at me and just gives me a little smirk and opens the door behind him.

As the day grew darker and the cold night approaches I am standing on the curb trying to figure out what I was going to do. I have no car and a cell phone with 1% on it. I decide to go to the one place that has been there since I could even remember. The football field. I ran this route to practice every morning, but tonight the slow jog feels longer and lonelier than ever. After about an hour and a half I walk into the football parking lot looking up and seeing the lights turned on. I can smell the blood, sweat, and tears I have spent here. For some reason it just didn’t feel right. I don’t feel a sigh of relief when I walked on the field. I felt as if something inside of me has just died. The thing I hated the most in my life, the early mornings, the extra practices, all the yelling i have endured in my life have not been for me they have been for my father. I forget the thought of me actually doing something for myself once and just find a nice place underneath the bleachers out of the wind.

I wake up to the sun warming up my cold body. I sit up and lean against the fence a couple feet away from me. Just feeling lost and lonely. Thinking about the big decision I was about to do when I went back home.

The walk home today felt much faster but in reality took just as long. I stood out front of my house debating if I really want to go through with this. I thought to myself,
“This is for me not for him.” I walk through the door slowly trying to asses the situation. My mom is back home now and is cooking breakfast. My dad is sitting at the table drinking some coffee and reading the morning paper. When he notices me he sets down his coffee and paper and leans back in his chair looking into my soul.
“You got something to say?” he asks me in a hostile voice.
“Yes, I do have something to say, I am tired of how you treat me and mom I’m done playing football.” I answer back to him. When I finally look him in the eyes showing him that I am not joking with him. His face turn as white as the paint that covers our small cramped kitchen. He tries to get words out but he starts stuttering and cant get a word out. I can see out of the corner of my eyes my mom setting down the pan smiling at me because she has known for a while now that my father and the sport of football has been tearing me apart from the inside out.  I turn from my father to walk to my room. I only make it a couple of steps when I decide to take my jersey out of my bag and throw it on the table in front of him.
“Thats for you, that jersey has never been for me, it’s always been you trying to live your good ole days through me and you know.” I pause for a second thinking about what I want to say next.
“I’m just burnt out and tired of it.” This hurt him. The one thing you never want to hear and athlete say is they are burnt out. I turn from the conversation and walk to my room.

Weeks have gone by since I have made the biggest decision of my life. Football season is full swing and about to hit play off time. I lay in bed at night thinking about how my life would be so different if I never would have made this decision.  My dad has grown quite in the house, keeping to himself more and more everyday. I can only imagine the pain I have put him through but what I have done is nothing compared to the pain and stress he has put on me since I have been a little kid. The weight of having to perform for my dad day in and day out has been removed from my life and I couldn’t be more happy. Ever since I have devoted my life to things that I love. I have started going back and doing the things that I missed out on as a kid like fishing with my grandfather, going out for ice cream with my mom, and just enjoying my life without having to worry about my dad looking over my shoulder and criticising me for my every move.