Even though I knew it was over, I refused to believe it.
I called Indiana State more times than I care to remember, trying to talk to somebody - anybody - I thought might have enough foresight to see reason through this stupid decision that amounted to no more than some pencil-pushing wannabe committee exec who thought he was ‘just doing his (or her) job’.
I never did find out who it was that had gotten everyone’s panties in a twist over some policy they likely created themselves. And I bet they never encountered a case like Ryan’s so the policy was open to interpretation.
I had been around long enough to know these things are malleable. Policies, like the law, have grey areas that can be argued based on the unique circumstances of every individual case - especially when there’s new territory involved.
Of course the track coach was on our side. He wanted Ryan. But his hands were tied.
They took it to a committee who reviewed it.
I waited in a coffee shop patiently for their decision. I just couldn’t sit still at home.
By this time I knew it was in God’s hands, or The Goddess Fortuna’s, or the Fates or some pantheon of Gods who were playing with us like puppets on a string out of sheer boredom because their lives were dull in comparison - such is the lot of Eternally Perfect Beings. I was finally convinced that we humans were like some bad reality TV series of their own creation.
And then the call came.
The committee exec yahoo, wasn’t budging. It was a close vote. Close, but no cigar. And that meant no in-state tuition.
That was a hard Christmas.
I drove home to see family, while Ryan stayed back in Michigan City to spend time with the people he had grown to love and say his good-byes.
He took a chunk of his money and enjoyed himself. After a lot of sacrifices, he figured he had earned the right to go out a little and buy Xmas presents for family and friends.
And he was right.
The anonymous donors who had generously offered their help with tuition were told their money was no longer needed.
And finally, Ryan started to relax and accept the cards fate had dealt him. After all, he had no choice.
When I came back from holidays, Ryan and I spent a little time together before he packed his bags to take the train home. School had started up again for me, and I requested a day off classes to take him to the Amtrak station in Chicago.
I won’t get into the good-byes as nothing at that point made much sense to me, including staying in law school, but in spite of our experiences, I was struggling to discover a higher purpose and maybe my own destiny in all of this.
And true to my family’s nature, I had everyone’s support to go for it anyway. After all, one success story - no matter who achieves it first - has a domino effect on everyone else.
I told myself it was my duty to honor the privilege that scholarship had afforded me. At the very least, I would give it a few months and my best shot.
.....
True to form, Ryan had also begun to formulate a new plan.
Maybe he couldn’t play college ball in the U.S. but he had enough money to pay for his own tuition back in Canada (at the University of Manitoba) for January classes and start spring training for the Bisons, our U of M football team.
He also knew the training he had undergone in the U.S. (both in high school and with Eric) was far better than anything they had ever witnesses up here. Hope sprang eternal once again.
Unfortunately, (and unbeknownst to him), his U of M entrance application (that he had started earlier as part of a back-up plan) had lapsed because he thought he was going to be attending Indiana State.
Once again, the Wheel of Fortune took a turn for the worst.
He would have to wait another semester to start school.
Ryan took the rest of his money, pitched in for rent, (he was now staying with his brothers) and vowed to start studying anyway so he could prepare for the tough academic program our university is known for.
Then, about a week and a half into the first semester of school...
I was sitting in the law library trying to wrap my head around Constitutional Law, when I got a call from the coach at Indiana State.
“Hi, is this Nicole Alexander, Ryan’s mom?”
“Yes it is,” I said as I walked into the hallway so as not to disturb others.
“This is coach ____ from Indiana State. We made a mistake. Ryan is entitled to in-state tuition. Can he come back?”
I was dumbfounded.
But moreover, I knew we were screwed.
Not only had the church donors been told their contributions were no longer required, but Ryan had spent most of what he had saved on Christmas, getting back home, and now on rent.
Ryan no longer had the $6,000 he needed for tuition.
And by the time he got organized and took either the bus or the train back, he would be at least a dozen days behind in his school work if not more. That’s a tough way to start the semester.
But the reality was, now the finances were missing.
And furthermore, I could tell in Ryan’s voice with each phone call he had nothing left to give.
After 3 1/2 years of givin’ ‘er, he was now in the process of healing.
But I called Ryan anyway.
When I told him what had happened there was a long silence at his end and then out came the words I had been anticipating.
He knew where he stood financially and their screw up had cost him whatever last chance he had had to play college ball in the U.S.
“Tell them to go f*** themselves.”
------
I went on to finish my semester at law school. Ryan held his own, reconnecting with his brothers in a big way and preparing for spring training, knowing he would be taking summer classes.
He joined the team and started training.
Then on the last practice before the first game of the season, Ryan’s foot got stuck in a divot that should never have existed if their practice field had only been properly maintained.
Unfortunately, it happened to get stuck just as a lineman plowed him down.
Ryan fell back but his foot held fast.
We later discovered he had broken his sesamoid bone into six pieces. It was a rare injury. And then we were told it would probably never heal.
That year, his team, the U of M Bisons, won the National Championship, travelling all across Canada to compete against every other college football team.
It was a helluva victory. And he wasn’t a part of it.Some of his teammates have since gone on to play in the CFL.
It would be almost two years (after exhausting every other possibility of healing it by natural means) before Ryan found a doctor who could perform the radical surgery he required - to remove the sesamoid bone completely from his foot piece by piece and not replace it with anything.
There was a chance the tendon would snap as a result and he would be back under the knife again to repair another injury.
His body is currently in the process of healing.
After three months it’s still sore as hell, but we’re hoping it’s just a matter of time.
At this point, Ryan’s greatest concern is to be able to participate in sports again as a lifestyle for the rest of his life - not to play football. That career is over.
-----
As for me, I finished second semester much more confidently than the first one as some of the worry was now behind me and I had become accustomed to the nature of my studies.
But because final grades had not yet been determined, I was given a grant to take a summer course while tabulations took place to determine my scholarship standing.
I did well in my second semester.
Even better in my summer class.
But by July my overall grades were determined to fall just below the 3.0 GPA I needed. First semester had killed me.
I lost my scholarship.
Bu there were no tears for me.
For some reason, I felt nothing but relief.
When I signed the papers, releasing my course selection for the following year and officially stating I was dropping out, I went around to my professors and thanked them all for one hell of a year with a big smile on my face.
I too, was going home.
Law school had been quite an experience. I met some great people, travelled to New Orleans where I volunteered with other students in the Public Defender’s office during spring break, went to Yale law school for a weekend conference on rebellious lawyering and realized there were some amazing people who lived in this world attempting to make a significant difference in spite of the severe odds against them.
I thought I was going to be one of them. But once again, maybe God had something else in mind.
It was time for me to go home.
-------
I spent a couple of extra weeks in Indiana that summer before leaving, spending time with a good friend I had made while there who taught me how to fish.
It was the first time in four years I had truly unwound.
When I got back home, I spent 8 months sleeping on my dad's sofa before I had enough money to move out on my own. I bought an old car, worked for my brother for a while then slowly, got back into teaching.
Then in January of this year, I started writing a book. I finished it on labor day. And I have recently secured a literary agent in Toronto who has high hopes to sell it to a publisher this November.
Yep. Things are looking up.
Meanwhile, Ryan turned into quite an academic. He was able to match whatever energies he had poured into football into his studies.
By the end of his first year of school, he had applied for a significant scholarship and got it based on both his academic and athletic aptitude.
Now he’s doing an honors program in Comparative Religion and studying Ancient Greek for the purposes of translating ancient religious texts.
I still think he chose that course of study as a way to understand the cosmos and find meaning in what otherwise appears as having no rhyme or reason, but at this point he would disagree with me vehemently and tell me I don’t know what I’m talking about.
Does everything happen for a reason?
I still think it does. But I don’t know for sure. Because I still can't wrap my head around what happened in Indiana.
In the end, I’m not sure it even matters. All I know is we all had to be together again and I wouldn't have it any other way.
NEXT - PART VII - Final thoughts - What was it all about? and the Six Month Experiment.
