Page 75 of The Sweetest Return

“But football also made it real easy to believe the thing I did was the same thing as who I was. For a long time, I didn’t know the difference.”

The room quieted again.

Dre rested both hands on the podium, award sitting to the side now, light breaking across its edges.

“And then football ended before I was ready.”

Nobody moved.

His injury had been public. The replays, the surgery, the speculation, the rehab videos, the announcement that he would not return. But he rarely spoke about what any of it had done to him. Not like this.

“I’m not going to stand up here and tell y’all I handled that beautifully.” His smile returned faintly. “I was pissed off. Scared. Probably unpleasant to be around.”

Mr. Jones laughed.

Dre looked toward him. “My father can confirm.”

“Absolutely,” Mr. Jones called.

The room broke into laughter, and Dre laughed too.

“That man taught me how to hustle before I knew that was what he was teaching me. Pops built Jones Outdoor with one truck, three mowers, and the kind of confidence you have when failure is not in the budget.”

Mr. Jones lowered his head, smiling.

“I watched him work all day, come home tired, and still sit at the kitchen table figuring out how to turn one customer into five. He never told me I had to own businesses. He showed me what it looked like to build something that belonged to you.”

Dre’s voice shifted.

“So when football was gone and I had to figure out what came next, I already had an example.”

Mrs. Jones reached for her husband’s hand.

I swallowed.

“And my mother…” Dre smiled. “Mama spent most of my childhood convinced every meal needed enough food for an offensive line.”

She immediately called, “You ate it.”

Everybody laughed.

“I did,” Dre admitted.

She pointed at him. “That’s why you got big.”

“That is exactly what she tells everybody.”

The laughter grew, then softened with his expression.

“But she also loved me before anybody cared how fast I could run.”

Mrs. Jones stopped smiling.

“She loved me when I was just her greedy little boy eating everything in the refrigerator. Loved me when people started knowing my name. Loved me when I got hurt and didn’t know what the hell I was supposed to do with myself. And she never once made me feel like I had to be strong enough not to need somewhere soft to land.”

Mrs. Jones wiped beneath her eyes.

So did I.