2020-08-28 Broken Knees, Broken Dreams

Broken Knees, Broken Dreams

Participants: Spencer

Storyteller: User:Lysistrata

Location: UCLA Bruin Locker Room

Date and Time: August 29, 2020 - 12:01 am

Summary: Injured knees lead to broken dreams, but there is a possible solution.

While Spencer is no longer limping along, UCLA definitely has been this season. While there's no 'I' in 'team,' some of the looks he's been getting from his teammates seem to be trying to tell him there's no 'you' in 'team' either. The doctors had given him a clean bill of health to get back on the field, but the warning that he might never quite be the same again is feeling more and more true each day. Coach too seems to be losing faith in Spencer's future. It wasn't long ago that his future looked so bright. Now any thoughts on how he might perform at the big game in front of the NFL recruiters, are being replaced with ones if he'll spend that whole game on the bench. At this point, that might even be for the best, but the brutal reality of the situation is beginning to sink in. The charmed life he'd been leaving seemed like it might be as blown out as his knees were.

A game lasts sixty minutes, but it can also come down to just a few seconds, and those are what get remembered. It was close, UCLA ahead and looking like they were going to win this one, but that last play ...

It's a large stadium, full to capacity, but it seemed like the entire place was silent when it all went wrong. The school's spirit as trampled as Spencer. It hurts when team looks at one player as if the loss is all their fault. Spencer had almost gotten used to that, but now? They don't even seem to want to look at him. In the locker room afterwards, it's like he's a dead man walking. Nothing is said to him, and the team seems to clear out exceptionally fast, just wanting to get away from him. Coach, he hasn't seen Coach since her threw down his clipboard and rushed off the field, but he expects he'll see him before he leaves, or perhaps get called into his office tomorrow.

For now, Spencer is alone in the locker room with his thoughts, his failures, his life.

Ice. Ice has been Spencer's best friend these last few weeks, and even more so today during the game. Right now Spencer sits on the bench in front of his locker, stripped down to his skivvies with bags of ice tapped to his knees. It's like those painkillers he has been popping 'on the doctors orders' aren't even doing anything to take the edge off tonight, and he felt so good just before the game.

He fishes out the brown plastic bottle from his bag and shakes it expecting to hear the familiar rattle of the pills inside, but instead he hears nothing. It's as empty as the feeling in this pit of his stomach. "Fuck," he curses as he tosses the bottle across the locker room and combs his fingers through his damp hair. He lays his fist into the locker door, not enough to dent the metal but certainly enough to make a loud bang.

After a moment, he fishes out his phone from the same bag, muttering to himself as he dials, "You will be fine, Spence. It's not that bad, Spence. You won't notice the difference, Spence...well tell that to the fucking recruiters you assholes. I swear to god if they put me back on the injured list..."

"It is that bad, Spencer."

He's not alone like he thought. The tone of the voice is not angry, not mocking, it's calm and yet brutally honest. One of his teammates begins to walk over, one Spencer had always got along with, saw as a friend. It's probably why they sent him over to deliver the news, either that or he simply drew the short straw. He approaches, looks Spencer in the eyes, and it seems like his future is about to be decided for him ...

"but it doesn't have to be," the teammate begins to expain, "I mean, unless you want out of this whole Football thing. Maybe you always wanted to be a 'Communications Major'? Probably don't have the grades or the brains for 'Sports Medicine,' I mean you could be a lot of things, but you're no Doctor. You are a Football star, though." A beat, before he clarifies, "You were a Football star. Now you're stuck in Limbo looking or a way back to glory, but the medicine, the physical therapy? It's not cutting it. You're not getting better, you're getting worse, and you're dragging down the team with you."

Taking a moment to glance around to make sure they're alone, he says, "but I think I know what could help you. It helped me. Remember how bad I was doing last season? Well I'm doing much better now, and it's not just because you've taken the attention off me. You willing to do what it takes to keep your old life?"

Spencer starts. People usually don't get the drop on him, so the fact Jason is now standing there talking to him just goes to show how much Spencer's knees have him distracted. As Jason talks, Spencer's eyes start to narrow and with a reddening face his lips curling back from his teeth as he is about the verbally unleash the pent of rage of his life at the other man...until the end of his teammates speech.

Spence's brow lifts skeptically and his arms fold over his chest, "Yeah? What do you have that I can't get with the best doctors on the west coast? You KNOW me man, the game is what I have. It's not like I play for the fuckin' money...I have enough of that."

Jason gestures with his head towards the benches between the lockers, before taking a seat himself. "You remember how bad I was doing last season, and then how it all seemed to turn around?" he asks, the question clearly rhetorical, as it would be hard to forget how bad Jason had been doing last season. Though, after a surprise game winning touchdown, he's actually been on an upward trajectory that actually seemed to make everyone forget or forgive his prior screw-ups.

"I was partying a lot that season," he begins to explain, "I mean, the football team's not the only 'talent' at UCLA, and hey, 'college experience,' right? The cheerleaders, the sorority girls -- " He laughs, as he adds, " -- Professor Nielsen. I mean, what am I going to do when they're practically throwing themselves at me? Say 'no'?" The cheerful reminiscence drains from his voice, as she adds, "and with that comes the parties, the late, nights, the booze. It all started taking it's toll. You ever get tackled when you have a splitting headache from a hangover? It is no fun, and the more hungover I was? The more it would happen. I figured my football career was done, might as well make the most of the fringe benefits while I could, so I just kept at."

"Anyway, so one night I'm over at a party at one of the Sororities," he continues this story, "and this total knock-out with -- " Jason makes the universal gesture for 'big breasts,' as he adds, " -- I mean, I got big hands, can easily grip a football, but those two looked like they might be a challenge, but I love a challenge."

Jason's tone has oscillated back to fond reminiscence, as he explains, "So we're making out, and she's leading me up the stairs and takes me up to her room. And she's like 'sit on the bed, we're gonna make it extra hot tonight,' as she starts rummaging through her dresser draw. I'm thinking what's this chick about? Whips, handcuffs, hopefully not trying to put something up my ass." He laughs to this and explains, "She pulls out this real ornate box, some girly shit that's probably and heirloom from her grandmother, and sits down right next to me."

"Well, when she opened that box up, my eyes went wide," he admits, before explaining, "She's got all this drug shit and there, but among it there's needles, and that's what she's going for. 'You do heroin?' I blurted out, and she looked at me like I was the biggest idiot in the world and said, 'no, this is 'vee,' and it's going to give us the best orgasms of our lives.' Well, I was sold, and she wasn't selling bullshit. We broke the damn bed that night, literally. We were going at it so hot and heavy, that before I knew the damn sun was rising, and I remembered it's a game day. I thought for sure that was the end of my time on the team, but that's when I played my best game ever. Been using it since. I mean it's like they took ecstasy and steroids, made it last a long time, and no ball-shrinking side effects. Shit is actually all-natural. Plants man, who woulda thought."

Spencer eyes Jason skeptically throughout his story, openly scoffing at points during it and even letting out an audible snort when he mentions the dimensions of his conquest's supposedly enormous tits. When his teammate finishes the diatribe, Spencer shakes his head and starts to unwrap his knees.

"Look man, you know me, we have been teammates for how long now? You always played for shit, and the rest of the team carried your sorry ass the last few years. At least you know it and admit it. But fuck man, I am one of the star players on this team, and for you assholes to all just turn your backs on me and treat me like a fucking pariah because of an injury...it hurts man. Shit, it's not like you all have never been injured before."

Spencer sighs, wincing as he removes the ice so look at his bruised and battered knees, the ice keeping the swelling down but if they are swollen this much with the ice one can only imagine what they would be without. "I've tried just about everything the party scene can throw at me that is at least recreationally safe and I have never heard of this 'vee' shit, ever, and you are telling me some big titted sorority girl has some magic drug she shot you up with that made you the fucking porno version of the six-million dollar man...and not only that made you a better fucking football player? I don't buy it. Sure...you got better, but that is just practice man. These fucking things," he says as he gestures to his knees, "are not going to get better. So what is it really? You think because I am rich I am a sucker and want me to hand you cash to go get some other fix and this is the best lie you can come up with? Give me some respect man and just tell me the truth. How much do you need?"

About to respond, the unwrapping of the knee instead catches Jason's attention. "Damn, that looks worse than I thought," he says, with a slight grimace. "Damn, I mean I think if the team realized you were playing through that much pain -- " he starts to say, but then shakes his head, " -- nah, they'd be sympathetic, but they'd only be sympathetic once they made sure you were off the team. Which ... seems to be the way you're heading anyway. Had that been slightly worse, that might have been an immediate and more graceful exit. Well, I guess where it's at, your choice of doors."

"That's what I'm telling you," he says with a nod, "but since then? Man, it's a whole scene I didn't know about it. It's not just that your injury has made you less competitive, half the team has found a way to be more competitive. And the girls? Once they know you're down with 'vee,' they're even more ready to party. But yeah, I don't know that I'd believe me if I was in your place, but think about it. That stuff they're giving you? I mean opiates, there were like the opium wars in the sixteen hundreds in Japan, and Advil? With how weak that stuff is who knows how old it is. You're taking medicine from hundreds of years ago, and maybe it helps a little. 'Vee,' though? That's brand new. Think about, like, your cell phone and how much that's changed in the past ten years. Now multiply that by a hundred. That's the difference between what you're taking, and what you could be taking. I mean, how many times have you heard the phrase 'miracle drug'? Well, this is your miracle drug."

"Really, it's more like a vitamin," he continues to explain, "like that B12 stuff they put in those energy drinks you're always drinking? You can get shots of that from the doctor, and you only need to go like once a month for a booster, my older brother had that, B12 imbalance. Well, this is like high-tech future B12 energy shot."

Standing up Jason walks to his locker and works the combo. "Tell you what," he says as he opens it up, "I'll give you one of my doses. If I'm not bullshitting and it works for you? You cover my drinks for a week at O'Swilligan's -- " Turning around, with a black plastic container, about the size of an envelope, but with two distinct bulges in it, he adds, " -- and if I am, then I'll but you a beer when they tell you you're off the team."

Spencer watches as Jason fiddles with his locker, listening intently as his teammate doubles down on the story of this miracle drug with one brow raised. It isn't until Jason turns around with the black bag that Spencer's other brow raises in surprise.

"You're serious," mutters Spencer as Jason produces the bag and lays down terms. "I mean, how can this exist," Spencer questions even as his hand is subconsciously reaching for salvation, "and nobody knows about it? If what you are telling me is true big pharma would be climbing all over themselves to try and put a price tag on this. It must be making someone billions."

Spencer's hand stops about halfway when he realizes he is reaching for the bag, and from Jason to the package and back, "Dude, if this works I will pay for your tab at O'Swillingan's for the year...but I have to ask how did you get this? Who is your supplier? If this /does/ work how will I get more?"

"Deadly serious," Jason responds handing over the black envelope pouch, the outlines of a small vial and a syringe being more evident. "I didn't say nobody knows about it," he responds, explaining, "it's I dunno, still exclusive. From what I hear, there's some biochemistry wiz-kid student at UCLA who came up with the formula for his Diss-- Diss-- For his senior project or something. It's like our Facebook, kinda deal. Think about. The dude did make Billions, but where did it start? College. Those pharmaceutical companies are just like the old technology and automobile company, coasting on old ideas, run by old people. For the longest time, they were the only game in town. But now with the internet, everything's getting disrupted by people our age. Every time that happens? That just puts the young at an even greater advantage. I mean, look at the difference between our age and adults on social media? It's like an NFL team versus a High School team. 'Vee' is like the physical version of that. Not just for sports, but for everything. This is the future. This is our generation."

Jason smirks, and gives a knowing laugh, as he says, "Don't worry. I'll fill you in on all those details over drinks at O'Swilligan's."