Dear Terrelle Pryor: A Love/Hate Letter from an Ohio State Buckeye Fan

Dear Terrelle Pryor:

On September 13, 2008, I saw you complete 7-9 passes for 59 yards against USC. You also rushed 11 times for 40 yards. I remember discussing your performance with all of my friends.

"Did you see that kid?"

"He's gonna be something, huh?"

"Todd Boeckman who?"

I wanted to love you, but I couldn't. There was just something about your demeanor. The way you swaggered off of the field. The way you carried yourself at the press conferences afterward. Your ridiculous Kid 'n Play hairstyle.

The next week, I saw you set a new freshman quarterback record by throwing four touchdowns against Troy. The local newspapers sang your praises. Buckeye fans surrounded the water cooler, talking about you as though you were the second coming.

Okay, I thought to myself: If this kid keeps performing, I might be able to jump on board.

And so you performed. Over and over again.

So I spent 50 bucks and upgraded my replica jersey. Goodbye, No. 33 James Laurinaitis. Hello, No. 2 Terrelle Pryor. I listened to your post-game press conferences. I Googled your stats.

Yet, something still nagged at me.

As I watched your games, I had an epiphany: You're not a team player.

You don't throw like a team player. You don't run like a team player. Heck, you don't even act like a team player. The swagger was back, the attitude was present, and that Kid 'n Play haircut stuck around.

I told my husband about it one day. "Pryor acts like he's the only player out on that field. It's like he only knows one play—the quarterback draw."

This thought stayed in the back of my mind; I wanted to brush it aside, but it taunted me.

Months later, the Buckeye football team fell like dominoes.

Reading about the scandals made me sick. I felt betrayed, even though my conscience was telling me not to fall for your tricks. You were like the bad boyfriend who all my friends warned me about.

After all, hindsight is 20/20.

Yesterday, I read an article in which you apologized to the Buckeye community. “I never meant to hurt anybody directly or indirectly with my conduct off the field and I am truly sorry,” you told us. 

I watched the apology video. Again, I wanted to believe you. But the apology felt insincere and unwieldy, like the boyfriend who says, "It's not you. It's me." My heart sank with grief.

We should have seen this coming. You were questionable from the start. Why didn't we listen to the voices in the backs of our minds?

It sure would've saved us a lot of pain.

And Terrelle: I'd like my 50 bucks back.