When We Were Catholics - Chapter 2: Son of Thunder
Chapter 2: son of thunder
Back when Fr John was quarterback of a Big Ten university’s football team, pregaming was for the blondes with fake tans and frat boys with red solo cups. I swear by my left arm that I’ve never gotten out of a pregame not drunk. And definitely not half naked, hanging by a bikini strap. I mean, it’s fall, who goes around half naked and wearing a bikini?
Sorry to say, the man of the year loves to saunter around half naked showing off his six pack with a six pack of german beer in his hand and a hot blonde in the other.
“YO. MR. QUARTERBACK.”
I yell, dangling from the shoulders of a huge black man.
The quarterback yells back,
“I ANSWER TO JOHN. AND JOHN ALONE, I AM.”
“Ok… then, SON OF THUNDER… didn’t see you at mass on Sunday. Where were you?”
The knighted son of thunder turns around, raising his eyebrow ever so quizzically.
“The real question is… where were you when I scored a touchdown in the last thirty seconds of last week’s game.”
I swing and leap off the back of the huge black man and wedge my body in between hot blonde (noun. Tridelta sorority girl) and the man of the century.
“Like, studying orgo?”
“Ugh get away from me, premed!” The blonde girl flips her hair over her shoulder and latches onto the next eligible frat bachelor guy.
Premeds get a bad rep. People think premeds are overly neurotic, super Machiavellian, try hard do gooder, gunner types who obsess over each tenth of a grade point and each missed point on an exam. But you kind of have to be, if you want to get into medical school. Be part of the 99% percentile and achieve your life long dream, or…
“Die?”
Oops, I didn’t notice I was talking out loud.
John’s still raising his eyebrow. I’m not sure what his eyebrow game is. But I do know what his football game is.
He’s undefeated quarterback for 4 whole years. When he got recruited and played his first game as a college freshman, Coach Pat predicted that “it would be a golden era for us Wildcats”.
He took the world by storm, scoring touchdowns like no other black footballer.
Except, he’s not black.
He’s white as fuck.
Bred in Cincinnati, Ohio which his younger brother Sam “Mr. NoseGod” deems the “California of Ohio,” he’s part Irish, part French, part British,
And 100% white.
A cradle Catholic, baptized as a baby, confirmed in junior high school, avid attender of mass and all things Catholic.
“So what are your plans for after college?”
“Finance. I got an offer from Goldman.”
“Sweet baby monkey, I didn’t know!”
He smirks and quits the eyebrow.
“I’m a math and English major. Not a premed cop-out”
He thinks that people only go into the premed track because they have nothing better to do with their lives.
Well, those people don’t have my mom.
Funny how things change. As we grow old, plans change, dreams die.
How did Fr. Jonah go from being a corporate finance bro to a priest?
God only knows.
