You may think you know who I am.  You see me around campus.  In that clique.  You call me the jock!

I see the way you look at me; wishing you were part of this group.  Thinking some guys have all the luck.  Sure, I really got it made.

Everyday I go to practice know that this is my one shot to make something of myself because I know I’m not that smart.

Everyday I go home from a game I know I’m gonna catch hell from my dad if I wasn’t the star of that game.  And dropping the ball is met with a beating when I get home.  Failure is simply not an option.  Perfection is the ticket.

Everyday I wish I’d just blow out my knee so I couldn’t play.  So then we’d see all his precious dreams of living his life through me go down the toilet.  Because the last thing I want to be known as is a big dumb jock who can’t do anything but play sports.  Who’ll never amount to anything more than a washed-up high school jock who never stood a chance at getting a job where I was required to do anything mental.

But for now, everyone thinks I walk on water because I’m a great jock.

Yeah, you think you know who I am.  But what do you know?  You’ve never walk a mile in my shoes; you’ve never lived a day in my life.  You don’t have a clue.

You may think you know who I am.  The truth is:  You only know my name.