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.