2 Part 1

I led anything but a normal childhood. On the day I was born my mother had just turned sixteen years old, my father was barely seventeen. My mother's family hated my father with a passion and did everything they could to make his life a miserable hell. To his credit, he withstood the abuse and became my role model, never ever turning his back on me, even though my mother's family criticized him every chance they got. He dropped out of school at seventeen and went to work at the local lumber yard. He sent my mother a check for child support every month, even though they had never been to court, his check was there every month. He enrolled in night school got his GED, then enrolled in college, again at night. It took him six years but he received a teaching degree and went to work at a local high school. He was a gifted quarterback in his high school days, many say he was good enough to perhaps play professionally, but he gave all of that up at seventeen. It only made perfect sense that after four years of teaching, he would also assume the head coaching position, a sport he loved dearly.

Even though we lived less than twenty miles apart, I rarely saw my father, my mother's family saw to that. But he never relented, he was determined that one day we would be close. Every Birthday, every Christmas he was there much to their dismay.

After several years of coaching my father turned a perennial loser into one of the strongest high school programs in the state. He was being recruited by every major high school in the state, as well as several smaller colleges. My father was a big man, six foot ,five inches tall and about two hundred twenty five pounds. It was pretty obvious at even at an early age, I was going to take after him physically. At age twelve, I was already over six foot and close to one hundred ninety pounds. That year is particularly etched in my mind, that's the year my mother married Richard, a guy she had been dating for a few years. He was the sort of guy you never trusted, he always seemed to be up to something. I could not stand him but for my mother's sake, I kept my mouth shut. From the moment he moved in, my life was never the same. He constantly ordered me around, demanding I work around the house to earn my keep, as he called it. This went on for a year or so until my size began to threaten him, or at least that's what I thought at the time. I really don't remember what even started it but one night my mother was at her parents house, it was getting late. I had been working in the yard all day and I was extremely tired. One of the things he had asked me to do, apparently I had forgotten. He came into my room and began to curse and scream at me. I got up out of the bed and I am guessing he must have thought I was going to confront him. The next thing I remember, I was on the floor with a terrible pain throbbing in my jaw. I reached up, touching my mouth, seeing blood on my hand. I quietly got up and went and did the chore he asked me to. I finished and went back to bed, but the pain kept me awake most of the night. The next morning, the entire right side of my face was swollen and bruised. My mother asked me what had happened and I told her exactly what he had did. Her answer to me was, "You must have deserved it", not giving it a second thought. I went to school that morning but immediately upon seeing me, my homeroom teacher sent me to the office. The vice-principal called my mother and asked her to come down to the school immediately. My mother arrived an hour or so later, very annoyed that anyone had taken this seriously. Because our middle school was the feeder school for my dad's high school, everyone at my school knew my father, in fact many were close friends. It didn't take long for news of my injury to reach my dad, he arrived maybe thirty minutes after my mother. He quietly walked over to me, kneeled down and touched my face. With tears building in his eyes, he asked me what had happened. I told him, as I had told my mother, exactly what happened. He slowly stood, turned, and walked right into the principal's office where my mother was. After a short argument, where I heard both of them raise their voices at each other, they reappeared before me. I will never forget his words, as he knelt back down in front of me.

"If anyone ever lays a hand on you again, you call me. I will make sure it will be the last thing in this life, they ever do.", he said, in a very low, matter of fact tone. "I am going to try every thing I can do to get you out of that house as soon as possible, I promise."

It took him close to two years, but he eventually with my testimony, was able to get full custody of me. It was the happiest day of my life.

He took me straight to my mother's to pick up my things, I couldn't leave there fast enough. As I collected my things, he helped me load them into his truck. I collected my last box, making my way to the door for the last time. My mother looked up at me from the sofa, I will never forget her last words to me that day.

"You two deserve each other, you're both sorry excuses for men. I regret ever meeting your father, and I certainly regret the day you were born. It was the worst day of my life.", she scowled.

I simply looked at her, not really angry, more sad that she felt this way. Her parents had implanted a seed of hate inside of her that she would never be able to overcome. I simply stepped out and closed the door behind me.

My mother made absolutely no effort to be part of my life from that day forward. It effected me, seeing my friends interact with their mothers, the love that they felt. Although my dad did everything he could to make sure I knew how much he loved me, nothing replaces a mother. I guess always in the back of my mind, I hoped one day we could all overcome this.

The next year, I was a freshman, enrolled at the same school my father taught and coached at. By now, I was six foot four and weighed close to two hundred twenty pounds. It was a given, I would play football, I was my father's son after all. My dad had been around football long enough to know that a strength and conditioning program was vital to a team's success. He immediately started me on a rigid weight lifting program as well as make sure I was getting all the essential supplements I needed to be successful. I didn't play in any games my freshman year, I spent just about every waking minute in the weight room. Initially my weight dropped to around two hundred pounds, but then slowly it came back. By the end of my freshman year I was again back to two hundred twenty pounds, but now had very little fat on my body. I was leaner and much stronger after just one year in the program. During the summer that year, my dad sent me to the local college to work out with a buddy of his, who coached there. My dad had designs that as a sophomore, I would start on the defensive line for the varsity.

After several weeks in the weight room, I could not help but notice how huge the players were, but more importantly how strong they were. It was routine to see lineman squatting over five hundred pounds, their strength was incredible. As I began to ask questions about training techniques, diet and supplements, one thing became obvious. There were other factors in play here. Just about every player to a man, either had taken, or was taking steroids on a periodic basis.

I was told that if I truly wanted to play this sport at the higher levels, I would too have to dabble into the underworld of performance enhancing drugs. Because I had always heard such negative things about steroids, I truly had no idea what to think, much less if I thought taking these were a good idea. By the time the summer came to a close, I was sure of one thing. If I wanted to play major college football, I would have to take drugs, and the time was now.

With no one else to turn to, I decided to talk to my dad knowing he would be straight with me. He was seated at the kitchen table, eating his normal late night supper. I brought up the subject carefully, watching the reaction on his face. He immediately raised his objections citing long term health issues that arise in athletes that take steroids. But even as he was rattling off cases that he was familiar with, I could see he knew the truth. I am not sure who he was trying to convince more, me or him. I listen intently but by the end of his lecture, he could see I was not that impressed. He looked down carefully thinking, then back up at me.

"Brian, if you really feel you have to do this, please don't hide it. I do not want you to take drugs, period. But with that said, I know many of my players do, it comes with the job. Just promise me, if you decide to do it, let me know. I will put you in touch with someone I know. He will make sure you take the correct things, and you take doses that will decrease the chances of long term side effects. Just promise me that.", he begged.

"If I do it, I will let you know Dad. I promise.", I replied.

I read up as much as I could over the next few months about the types of anabolic steroids, both oral and injections. I still had no clue what to do searching through the endless maze of information available, I decided to take my father up on his offer to put me in touch with someone who did. He immediately took me to a body building facility that was located close to the college gym I had been using for months. Apparently the owner of the gym, an ex-Olympic power lifter, had helped other players in the past. My father introduced us, then began to explain exactly what he had in mind. The huge man shook his head in approval, saying he knew exactly what to do.

During the off seasons and summers I worked out exclusively at the health club, keeping my distance from the prying eyes of the school. I was given six week cycles of testosterone, deccadurabolin and winstrol, taking each once daily by injection. After each six week cycle, I would abstain for six weeks, cleaning my self out completely. Almost immediately you could see the results the drugs were having. I became stronger, thicker and more muscular in a very short time. My weight jumped up over thirty pounds in less than one year. By the time I started my sophomore year, people were beginning to take notice of me. Girls that a year ago didn't look in my direction, were now looking, and smiling a lot. It was nice, but I put it out of my mind, football was all I cared about. Fall practice was just around the corner and I was determined to make the varsity team, even though it would be extremely tough this year, they were loaded with talent. Not to mention the twenty two seniors who were returning for their last year. Combine that with the fact, I had to be head and shoulders above everyone else, just so my dad wouldn't be accused of playing favorites. I attended the voluntary after school practices with the assistant position coaches. My dad was not allowed to be at these practices, it was a state rule. We could not work out as a team, only in groups by position. As soon as practice was over, I would jump on the bus, make my way across town to the health club and train for several hours. It was exhausting, I was never home and if I was , I was sleeping. It was during these first few months of school my dad met

Ashley, the new history teacher. Ashley was an immediate hit, especially with all the boys at school. She was a knock out to say the least. She was close to six foot tall, a former college volleyball player, with an incredible, athletically fit body, only twenty six years of age. Her face could have graced any fashion modeling magazine, her skin creamy smooth and clear, her large blue eyes, sparkling like a clear mountain creek. The fact that she was only twenty six didn't hurt either.

Ashley and my Dad, immediately hit it off, much to the chagrin of most of the males at the school. They began dating on a regular basis and it became apparent very quickly, they had fallen in love. My Dad's true love was football, nothing else ever came close, until Ashley. My Dad started rationing his time prudently, making sure he and Ashley always had their time together. I was happy for him, she was a really nice girl and I could tell, she was nuts about him. They were together every night, either at her place, or at our house. It didn't matter much to me, I didn't get home until close to eight o'clock every night, and when I did, I ate quickly, took a shower and went to bed. Ashley was always extremely kind to me, I am guessing because my Dad had spoken about my early childhood. Even though she insisted I call her Ashley or Ash, as my Dad did, she was still Miss Thompson to me. One thing my Dad insisted on was manners. I had to be polite or I faced his consequences, so I learned very quickly to say yes sir, when needed.

It was about this time, that the first of many football injuries came my way. One day during drills, I rolled my ankle over severely requiring me to be in a brace for close to eight weeks. It also would wreck most of my sophomore season, making me miss three quarters of our games. My Dad decided at that point, I would sit out the year and heal properly. Even though, I had a brace on my ankle, I still worked out at the gym religiously, doing what I could protecting my foot. It was at this time I was introduced to HGH (Human Growth Hormone) by my trainer. It was really close to a compound your own body produced in the pituitary gland and athletes were having incredible results after taking it for a very short while. I started on the drug immediately and sure enough, the results were incredible. During my sophomore year, I gained an additional thirty pounds and stood now at six foot five, two hundred and seventy seven pounds. I was now, the biggest player in the locker room, and would definitely be an impact player the following year. People were beginning to ask questions about my training, questions I knew to steer clear of.

One Friday night, near the end of school that year, I arrived home to find my Father and Ashley on the sofa watching TV. I said hello, hurried to the kitchen where my Dad had saved my dinner. I ate quickly, showered and went to bed, I was exhausted. The brace was off of my leg now, I was almost fully recovered. Sometime later that night, I woke up, needing to go to the bathroom. One drawback to steroids, you retained huge amounts of body fluids, you constantly had to go to the bathroom. I sat up, rubbed my eyes, got up and headed to the bathroom, which was right across the hall from my room. I finished and started back for my room, noticing a light was on in the TV room. I figured dad had left the TV on , so I walked that way to turn it off. As I got close to the family room, I heard very faint sounds coming from that direction. I slowed down and peeked in, staying well behind the door frame.