High Functioning or Functioning High?

Have you ever been the best version of yourself and the worst . . . at the same time? That was me during my time at USC.

I arrived on campus naively believing I was free from the shackles of a manufactured identity. Yet I soon realized my media reputation as a squeaky-clean kid was a headwind.

Classmates and teammates assumed I lived more strictly than a monk, treating my body as a temple like the national coverage suggested. With the student body from across the country arriving on campus well before the advent of social media, they hadn’t been privy to the chanting student section at Capo High, which never made the news.

So jaws dropped when they discovered a fatty in my mouth at campus keggers and lines of coke in the bathroom. Forget about no sugar or artificial preservatives; few chemicals were off-limits, especially if they ushered in instant gratification.

But there were plenty of restrictions on my budding freedom, including football and addiction. I couldn’t escape 2 pm daily practices or silence the inescapable urge to get blitzed. Both were full-time jobs; eventually, one would have to give.

No one, including me, expected football to end first.

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