Rileys vs. Jakes

Author's Note: So, I wrote this back in November and just left it in my draft folder because a) it was just the ranting of a crazy person, b) I compared myself to a football player I could, in theory, run into on campus (I never have, though I did see Jimmer at Chik-fil-A in the mall one time) which also seemed weird, and c) I didn't want people I worked with to read this. But since then, a couple of things have happened:

• I did not get hired by BYU for a job for which I've been groomed for the last two years. The day after I was told, I had to attend our student interviews, which was slightly gruesome. To introduce ourselves, we were asked to say what kind of collegiate athlete we would be (what was particularly weird about that was that we had an actual collegiate athlete as an interviewee, but that's another story). And this post came back to me.
• Jake Heaps left BYU after being groomed for two years to be the next big BYU quarterback. So now the metaphor just has me all confused. Am I Jake now?
• I realized that no one is reading this blog.  

In a second perfect storm of college football and my regular life, I find myself overidentifying with the BYU quarterback controversy, which, oddly, has now been going on for two years--coinciding perfectly with my time here at BYU. Time that, in the next couple of months, will either be extended indefinitely, or ended shortly. I could go on to have a great career at BYU, or be a placeholder while the person they really want is getting ready to take over the job. In short, these days, I feel like Riley Nelson, which is odd, since I have no idea how Riley Nelson feels.

It is a strange battle between a transfer student from Utah State and a high school phenom. One will most likely end his football playing career at BYU, while the other will probably be like a top-level BYU quarterback and go on to play a few forgettable seasons in the NFL before returning to a job on the BYU coaching staff. One has the arm. The other has the heart, and the respect and admiration of his coaches and teammates. One looks like what we expect from a BYU quarterback-if erratic at times, while the other runs, takes hits, and makes plays, and struggles with the long-bomb passes downfield that BYU is known for. And don't get me started on the fluffy blond hair or the abs with their own Twitter account. Neither of those things fit in this labored metaphor.

So why do I identify with Riley Nelson? It has to do with my precarious position as a second-year visiting professor in BYU's School of Family Life. I graduated with my master's degree at 26, after completing a mission, which has had an important impact on my life. I finished my Ph.D. in a timely fashion-not something everyone does, but nothing out of the ordinary. I understand most of the stats I learned in grad school, but no one thinks I am a whiz. I got a job at BYU partly because I am good, and partly because I am better than the other people who are available. And yet, I can't shake the feeling that, if I don't look out; if I'm not playing my heart out; if I get injured and don't show up to practice with broken ribs; that there is a phenom, four years younger than me, looking to take my place.

It feels, sometimes, like I can be doing everything right and still lose out to someone else's potential.

Here's the thing about Riley Nelson: while he works hard at football, he knows it is not his final destination. Should he find himself not starting his senior year, it will not impact his career plans in any major way. He will land on his feet. And the truth is, if I am, indeed, a Riley Nelson, so will I, no matter what happens to my present job.

Breathe. Get back to work.