“But you know, even worrying about haircuts couldn't depress me. Because every time I started sinking low, I'd just remember about football. All this time I'd thought I wanted to be a trainer, when it turned out I wanted to be a player instead. I saw something I wanted to do and I decided to do it. The feeling of freedom this gave me—I can't even describe it. It was my decision. I chose it. I am not a cow.”

“But it turns out that even if I don’t talk a lot, when it’s something that matters I still have a lot to say.”

“Oh. Listen, this is really hard for me . . . ""What is?""You know. Being liked." I started to cry. I couldn't help it.”

“Everyone's scared. So scared they can't sleep sometimes. Or eat. Or keep their weight on.""Then why bother playing?" I asked. It was a whisper, this question."Because. You love the game. You love the people you play with. You love winning, maybe. You love that one moment when you get it right . . . I dunno. Why do you play?""Because," I whispered, "it's who I am."Sounds like a good reason to me.”

“I ultimately decided to hold my tongue and settle instead for the comfort of ignorance. Not knowing the truth, I retained hope, and that hope I held like a smooth warm stone against my heart.”

“And that's where our conversation went from there, than God, both of us laughing our butts off at the thought of a hoops game between two teams on intravenous fluids. Which makes absolutely no sense at all; I know that. But that's why it cheered me up, because it was so absolutely stupid. It cheered me up more than I'd ever thought I'd be cheered up again.”

“Sometimes,well,all the time,I can't think of what to say because I'm so dumb and stuff,and then maybe I think of it like five days later.”