Amaya called us on Sunday night, the weekend of the Atlanta tournament, after the doubles bracket wrapped up. I’m sure he had to ask his mom for some money to rearrange a flight like that last minute. Deep in my soul, I felt a swirl of conflicting emotions. I hated Wyatt, but at the same time, I loved him, I wanted to scream at him, but at the same time, I wanted to hug him.
“Before we talk about the obvious, I wanted to congratulate you on getting second in the singles and the doubles tournament. That must’ve been a whirlwind of anxiety and stress. I'm just impressed that you came out on top through all of that,” Darren said as the two of us hovered over the TV tray in front of the couch.
“Thank you so much,” Amaya said. “Yeah, I still can’t beat Dayzees, but at least I don’t have to worry about losing my sponsors or falling further down the ranks. It’s good to be back at number two, but obviously, I’m still starving for first place.” She paused while we heard background noise that sounded like plates smacking a table. “But yeah, you have no idea how insane it’s been. Apparently, Wyatt had flown back earlier today, and he never texted me.”
“Well, you’re in good company because he never responded to any messages from Gordie or me.” Darren shook his head, rolled his eyes so hard they probably went in the back of his skull, and let out a deep breath. Clanking sounds kept coming through Amaya’s phone call. It was silent between the three of us longer than I was comfortable with.
“So was it weird to ask Benjamin to be your partner for the doubles tournament? I can only imagine how pissed Dayzees would be about that,” I said.
“Yeah, that was definitely something that stressed me out, and I had a little bit of an anxiety attack beforehand, but I called Benjamin and pitched him the idea, and he agreed. He was already planning the doubles tournament, so he had to skip out on his partner, KitCats. But apparently, KitCats understood and bowed out without hassle, so I got really lucky there.”
“Glad that worked out in the end. I was so pissed off at Wyatt. In fact, I still am. I can’t help but feel partially responsible since he’s my cousin and all and one of my best friends—”
“Darren,” Amaya cut Darren off, sounding irritated. “It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize for him; it’s not your fault. Was I upset at the moment? Absolutely. Am I still upset? No, because in the end, he only screwed over himself. In a way, I feel awful for him. He got scared and wanted to win the tournament, and he thought the only way he could do that was by getting piss drunk. Blackout drunk, actually.”
“Thank goodness you said that. I was worried that things would fall apart after all of this,” I said.
“Well, things will definitely be different because I don’t have the same trust in him that I had before. Honestly, I would feel more comfortable with one of you being my partner. Especially because Wyatt is banned from playing in the Major singles and doubles tournaments,” Amaya said.
After my brain decoded Amaya’s communication, I felt my heart collapse into a black hole. The inside of my mind felt like it was struck with a flash grenade, everything was all white, nothing made sense, and my vision was fuzzy. All my hopes and dreams of the four of us standing in the center stage of Miami and winning $1 million started to flush down the drain.
“But I don’t know. He might be able to do Alcoholics Anonymous or something. Then the Elite Crushers pro circuit would be more accepting of him coming back. It all depends on the variety of things,” Amaya said. “Sorry if you keep hearing all this noise over the phone. I’m starting to pack so I can just get the hell out of this hotel tomorrow and get back home. Yeah, I think we should talk to Wyatt or his parents about him seeing help. I think that would be the only way we could get him allowed back. Especially if we want a shot to win Miami.”
“Yeah, it’s gonna be tricky,” Darren uttered.
“Since he’s your family and everything, and you’ve known each other your whole lives, I’ll just follow your lead. I just thought we would talk about things and exchange ideas,” Amaya said.
“Yeah, I’m with you, Darren,” I said.
“I know the situation is shitty, but there is a silver lining to all of this,” Amaya said. “Apparently, fans have gone on social media like Twitter and Instagram to support Wyatt. It’s been amazing to see all the people posting things giving their love, hoping for the best, and encouraging him to get help. He’s been getting hundreds of mentions, which I think would really help him and his case for getting back in the tournament scene.”
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My hopes and dreams died and were resurrected faster than a blink of an eye. Emotionally I had gone through a whirlwind, and I just wanted the weekend to be over at that point. Good thing it was Sunday night.
Wyatt was not invited to the Las Vegas Invitational tournament, although he would have been eligible if it wasn’t for his disastrous appearance in Atlanta. He had to tell his mom what happened, and although he didn’t want his dad to find out, someone else shared the video with his father. Wyatt was no longer staying with his parents. Fortunately, Darren, opened the doors to his house for Wyatt to stay. Really it was his mom Layla’s decision, which she obliged. She was also aware of Wyatt's mistake but didn’t flinch at the thought of him staying. In fact, she joked, saying, “I already thought he was living here,” since Wyatt would frequently come over and shower and keep belongings there.
The three of us were planning on having a talk with Wyatt when he got back, but it was hard to get in touch with him at first. Wyatt reached out to us after a week, apologizing and saying he wanted to get together soon, but wanted to move in with Darren and be settled first.
When we finally did hang out after two weeks, we went to Amaya’s house in Chicago. I thought it would be awkward and uncomfortable. I’ve found in life that I never enjoyed hard conversations, but this one had to happen, and I was surprised how it went.
After an hour of intense discussion and tears, Amaya said, “You know you’re banned from the tournament scene, right?”
Wyatt’s voice was thick, and the whites of his eyes were tinted red. “Yeah, yeah, I am aware. Which really sucks, but I think I know what I’m gonna start doing.”
“You said you’d been thinking about other things in life, like what?” Darren asked.
“Be sober and go to Alcoholics Anonymous. I thought about getting a job or pursuing a career in something else, but I just can’t. I gotta go pro because I feel like I’m seriously good at Elite Crushers, and I probably could’ve beat the guy I was playing against if I had been sober. So while I’m staying with you, Darren, I’m just going to keep playing. I’ll practice every day, and just train train train.”
Darren had a half-smirk. “It’s not a bad plan, but you have to get accepted back into the community, and that’s going to be a real challenge.”
“Yeah, not exactly sure what I’ll do. Obviously, I’m going to go to Alcoholics Anonymous, then from there, I’ll ask for forgiveness or something.”
“Wyatt, I know you’re not on social media or anything, but it might be a good idea to get one on either Twitter or Instagram and just start connecting with fans. I could even make a post about how you will get help and tag you in it, and then you’ll see an outpour of support, I guarantee it,” Amaya said. “People love you, man.”
“Yeah, dude, when we were at the New York tournament a few months ago, people wanted more Wyatt. They practically worship you,” Darren said.
Wyatt smirked and his face turned pink. “Okay... Yeah… I’ll do that. As much as I hate the idea of creating a social media account, if that’s what it takes to be a professional, I’ll do it, dammit.”
The Las Vegas tournament came and went.
Again nothing had changed in the rankings. Amaya came in second at the singles tournament, and then she came in second with doubles. Other top eight regulars swapped their rankings around, but those two always remained the same.
Wyatt wasn’t invited, of course, and Darren and I didn’t go. Once again, Amaya offered us to stay in her hotel room, but we were both involved in school and work that we couldn’t justify going to another tournament in the middle of the year.
Wyatt was much improved. He stopped smoking weed, and he didn’t touch alcohol. Once a week, he went to his Alcoholics Anonymous meetings and said he would keep going until he was accepted back into the Elite Crushers community.
In the midst of all the commotion, I trained every possible chance that I wasn’t at school or work. By the time spring rolled around during my senior year of school, I had disappointed my parents by not engaging with anything regarding school. I applied a little later for college than planned, but I applied to the University of Illinois. My parents told me they set up the college funds for myself and Michael while we were growing up. The amount of money they saved wasn’t enough for four years living on campus at a large public university like Illinois, but with Michael’s fund having never been used, the money was put into my account. Again it wasn’t enough to pay for everything, but it certainly would come close.
The decision to attend the University of Illinois versus a community college was painfully difficult. I wanted to have a life a lot like Darren’s. Go to school at the community college, work at the grocery store, and hang out with Amaya and Wyatt in the city on weekends.
But I ended up applying to the University of Illinois.
Not because I wanted to leave my current life, but I liked the opportunity. If things had gone well with the Chicago tournament and I ended up going to Miami, I’d probably end up staying at home and going to the community college. This would likely disappoint my parents, but I didn’t care because I would have accomplished a life goal that is the only thing making life worth living to me. But if something fell through and the tournament went worse than I hoped, I felt it might be time to leave. Time will tell. Maybe Darren could transfer his last year of college, and we could be roommates at Illinois? That would be cool too.