06: Becoming Someone Again

After everything fell apart, I didn’t think I’d ever feel whole again.

But then—something started to shift.

My mom went into remission. The cancer was still a shadow over our family, but it wasn’t taking her anymore. For the first time in a long time, we could breathe.

And football—football started to give me back pieces of myself.

I got good. Really good.

I’d always gotten straight A’s. Even at my lowest, academics were my anchor. Found structure. Routine. Purpose. And a sense of control in a world that had taken so much from me.

By the time I was a senior, my high school team was the best in Arizona.

5A.

Back-to-back state champions.

I was a part of something.

I was contributing.

I was seen—not for what I’d survived, but for what I could do.

That meant something.

Even though I had only started punting in my senior year, I was invited to walk on at Arizona State.

I redshirted that first year.

Lived in the weight room.

Put my head down and worked.

By the end of the year, I earned a scholarship.

And the next season, I was the starting punter.

That year, the Pac-10 was stacked.

USC had Matt Leinart, Reggie Bush, LenDale White, Clay Matthews.

Cal had Aaron Rodgers, DeSean Jackson, Marshawn Lynch.

UCLA had Maurice Jones-Drew.

Sharing the field with them was an honor.

And being at the top of my position in the country felt even better.

There was nothing like running out onto that field in Sun Devil Stadium to the opening riffs of AC/DC’s “Thunderstruck.”

That electricity? That roar? That was home.

I even got to contribute more than just my leg.

I threw two fake punts that year—one against USC and one against Washington State.

I got to tackle Reggie Bush, forcing him out of bounds.

That moment?

That was for me.

It was a solid season as a redshirt freshman. That year we won the Sun Bowl against Kyle Orton and Purdue. A bowl ring. I was proud.

And that year, I was named First Team Freshman All-American.

My parents had moved back to New Mexico after that season, but they still came out a lot.

We spent a lot of time together that offseason.

Things were lining up.

For a little while, I felt like everything I’d been through had led to this. Like I’d made it out. Like I was building something new—something solid.

I was happy.

I was proud.

I felt whole.

Not because the past didn’t exist, but because I’d finally outrun it.

Or so I thought.