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"Hey, Sam," Carly said as she let herself into the Bensons' home. "You'll never guess what I found when I was cleaning out my attic today. It's an old DVD of the original Boogie Bear. You know, before the animation went all wonky. I thought you might like it."
"Hey, thanks!" Sam grinned as she took the DVD. "Man…I haven't seen Boogie Bear in years…I've really missed that weird bear. Maybe I'll watch it tonight; I'll need something to distract me from all the yelling."
"Yelling?" Carly repeated.
"Tyler's report card came in the mail," Sam sighed, holding up an envelope.
"Was it bad?" Carly asked.
"Oh yeah," Sam nodded. "Not even Emma ever got grades this bad. Not even my grades were that bad."
"Wow, that's…something," Carly said. "But, you know, junior year of high school is rough."
"Carly, he managed to get a 'D' in gym class," Sam said. "How does the school's quarterback and captain of the basketball team get a 'D' in gym class?"
"Well…"
"Freddie's going to flip out," Sam said heavily. "You know how he is with school and stuff. And the grades Tyler got even have me upset at the kid. So imagine what Freddie, the kid who got straight-A's all his life, is going to do."
"Yeah…there's gonna be a lot of yelling," Carly said.
…
"Why do I have to even show dad my report card?" Tyler moaned later that evening as Sam put a plate of fried chicken on the table. "You've already yelled at me enough."
"Because your dad knows you're supposed to be getting your report card this week, so you might as well get it over with," Sam said.
"But he's gonna be all mad!"
"Yes he's going to be mad!" Sam snapped. "Your grades were horrible, Tyler. Your highest grade was in study hall. And you still got a 'C' in that! You do realize that if your grades don't pick up, your dream of playing football in college is done. It doesn't matter how good your game is, if you don't have the grades, you won't get scouted!"
"I know," Tyler said, rolling his eyes. "I'll bring my grades up. The guidance counselor already got me a tutor. As long as I pass all of my classes next semester, my overall average will still be a solid 'C', which is what I need to get scouted for college football."
"Alright, well…just hope your dad understands that," Sam sighed just as the front door opened. A second later Freddie walked into the house.
"Hey," he said cheerfully, kissing Sam quickly. "Chicken smells good, baby."
"Yeah, and I even made some baked chicken for you!" Sam said, handing Freddie another plate. "Since I know you like healthy options every once in awhile."
"Oh, cool," Freddie smiled, sitting down at the table. "I do love me some healthy chicken. So how was school today, Ty?"
"Um…good," Tyler said slowly. "The cafeteria served tuna fish so…that was good."
"Of course," Freddie chuckled. "But how about your actual classes? You said you had a trig test coming up, right? You feel prepared?"
"Well…"
"Come on, Tyler, you know it's important for you to do good in your classes," Freddie said. "College is just around the corner for you. In fact, this weekend you and I should sit down so we can go over options and-"
"Here!" Tyler blurted, handing Freddie the white envelope that contained his report card.
"What's this?" Freddie frowned.
"Timing, kid," Sam mumbled under her breath. "You've really got to work on timing."
"It-It's my report card," Tyler replied.
"Oh, well let's see it then," Freddie said, opening the envelope and pulling out the sheet of paper with Tyler's grades on it.
The entire room was silent as Freddie stared down at the report card.
"Sam…" Freddie finally said. "Is this some sort of prank you're playing on me?"
"Freddie-"
"Please tell me this is a prank, Sam!" Freddie exclaimed. "Because I know Tyler's grades can't be this terrible!"
"Freddie, just calm down and-"
"I mean look at this!" Freddie cut her off. "English…D! Trigonometry…D! French….D minus! Chemistry…F!"
"Dad, I know that my grades were kind of…bad, this semester," Tyler began.
"Well that is the understatement of the century," Freddie said. "Tyler, you're grades are beyond bad. You didn't get a single 'A'. Or even a 'B'!"
"I know, I just had a lot on my plate this semester," Tyler sighed. "Between football and basketball I barely had time to study. Plus the classes got a lot harder. I'll try better next semester and I-"
"Oh you sure will try harder next semester!" Freddie snapped. "You're going to do nothing but try! From this second on, all your focus is going to be on school! That's it! No more fun, no more friends, no more sports-"
"You can't take away sports from me!" Tyler cried.
"Well maybe without the distraction you'll actually manage to get good grades for once!"
"I told you, I will bring my grades up!" Tyler said. "My guidance counselor thinks if I work with a tutor I can bring my grades up to 'C's and that will-"
"Oh, is that all you're aiming for?" Freddie scoffed. "You just want 'C's? You're not even going to try to get A's or B's?"
"But with a 'C' average I can be scouted by colleges to play on their teams," Tyler said.
"And is that your only goal now?" Freddie snapped. "To go to college to play sports? What about your career?"
"If I go pro, sports will be my career!"
"And do you know the chances of that?" Freddie exclaimed. "Like, one-in-a-million, Tyler!"
"Okay, Freddie, you need to calm down now," Sam said, putting a hand on her husband's shoulder. "You-"
"You were never this hard on Emma!" Tyler retorted. "She didn't get the best grades and she went to college on a full-ride track scholarship!"
"Emma's grades were nowhere near as bad as yours!" Freddie snapped. "She never brought home a report card like this!"
"Freddie," Sam said again. "Just-"
"The bottom line, young man, is that you are going to work day and night until these grades are brought up!" Freddie said. "And I don't mean brought up to 'C's!"
"I'll get as many 'C's' as I want!" Tyler fumed.
"Tyler…" Sam sighed. "Don't-"
"And I'm not quitting sports!" Tyler continued as he angrily got to his feet.
"Hey!" Freddie called after Tyler as he stormed out of the kitchen. "Tyler Mathew Benson you get back here right now and-"
He was cut off, though, as the sound of Tyler's bedroom door slamming shut.
"Sam…this is unbelievable!" Freddie said, shaking his head. "He might not even pass the eleventh grade!"
"I know, I know, his grades were definitely…not good this semester," Sam said. "But he's going to bring them up. You heard him, things were just harder."
"This is a serious problem we have here," Freddie said. "I mean you heard him; the kid doesn't care about anything other than sports!"
"Well you know how passionate he is about that," Sam said.
"He should be passionate about his education," Freddie said.
"Baby, some people…some people just aren't academic," Sam said gently. "Jason and Ashton are, just like you, and Emma can be if she really, really wants to be, but Tyler…Tyler's just not. And you have to accept that."
"So I have to accept that my kid's gonna flunk out of high school?" Freddie snapped.
"No, he's not going to flunk out," Sam said. "He's going to bring his grades up. Maybe not to A's like you would like, but he'll bring them up."
"Why aren't you more concerned?" Freddie demanded.
"I am concerned!" Sam said.
"Then why aren't you backing me here?" Freddie asked. "What we need to do is take him out of sports so he can-"
"That's only going to make Tyler resent us!" Sam snapped. "And without sports, what motivation will he have to do well in school? Haven't you been listening to him? He wants to go to college because of sports. Without them, he might just give up on college all together!"
"Oh he's going to college," Freddie said firmly. "Whether he likes it or-"
"Are you hearing yourself?" Sam exclaimed. "Why are you acting this way?"
"Acting like what? A concerned parent?"
"No! Like you don't care whether Tyler's happy or not!" Sam yelled.
"W-What?" Freddie sputtered, absolutely flabbergasted. "Of course I care about his happiness! But his grades-"
"His grades are important, but...Freddie, with sports he gives it everything he's got," Sam said. "He wakes up at six in the morning to do extra training, he stays late at every practice he has to go over strategies with his coaches, he records every single one of his games so he can go back and look for mistakes…he's so passionate about sports, and he's incredible. You know he has a real shot of getting onto a college team and turning pro! I know it's hard to make it pro, and Tyler knows it too. But you know what else is a one-in-a-million shot? Him being the creator of a brand new software company or discovering the cure to some horrible disease! But if those were his goals, you'd be one hundred percent supportive, no matter how difficult they'd be."
"Well of course I'd be!" Freddie snapped. "But that's different!"
"How?" Sam asked, crossing her arms. "How is encouraging your son to be the next greatest computer developer or doctor different from encouraging him to be a professional athlete if that's what he wants more than anything in the world?"
Freddie opened his mouth to retort, but nothing seemed to come out.
"It's not," Sam said simply. "Is it?"
"I-I Sam, I-He can't fail his classes," Freddie said lamely. "That's just not an option."
"I know it's not," Sam said. "I've told you, he needs to bring up his grades. And he will. But…Freddie, he's just…school's not where he's going to excel. And…that's okay."
"Sam-"
"What if, growing up, your mom refused to let you follow your passion for tech stuff?" Sam cut him off. "And forced you to-to go into dance, or something like that, because that's where she thought your focus should be, no matter how many times you told her that you really wanted to work with computers for the rest of your life?"
"You-That's different! This is different!" Freddie exclaimed.
"You keep saying that," Sam said, shaking her head. "But you know it's really not."
…
The next day, Freddie stood outside of Tyler's bedroom door. He had been standing there for nearly ten minutes, but had yet to knock or go inside.
"Just talk to him," Sam said as she walked by, on her way to her bedroom.
"What do you think I'm doing?" Freddie asked.
"Um, standing outside our son's door like a freak?" Sam replied. "Seriously, just do it."
"I-I'm thinking of what to say," Freddie mumbled.
Sam rolled her eyes as she stepped over and knocked at Tyler's door.
"What are you-" Freddie started, but Sam quickly turned and hurried away.
"Come in," Tyler called from inside the room.
"Dang it, Sam," Freddie mumbled as he slowly opened his youngest child's bedroom door.
Tyler was lying on his bed, tossing a basketball up into the air. He looked over at his father, gave a low grunt, and then turned his attention back to his basketball.
"Um…hey there, Tyler," Freddie said. "We missed you at breakfast this morning."
Tyler didn't reply.
"Well, um, your mom and I saved you some eggs," Freddie said. "You know…if you're hungry later."
Still, there was no response.
"Tyler," Freddie sighed. "Listen…about your report card…you-you know how important grades and your education are. I mean without those you-your future could-look, they're important, okay."
Tyler simply continued to toss the basketball into the air.
"But," Freddie continued, taking a deep breath. "I-I understand that sports are really important to you too."
This finally got Tyler's attention, and he set the ball down and glanced over at his father.
"I-I see how you are at your games," Freddie said. "You're so passionate about them. You give each game, each practice, each training session your all. And you're-you're incredible out there; sometimes I can't even believe you're my son because you're so good. You-You're clearly very dedicated. And that's why…that's why maybe I was a little, um, unreasonable, last night when I told you that you couldn't play sports anymore."
"You don't say," Tyler scoffed under his breath.
"You just have to understand that I care about you, Tyler, and I want to make sure that you have the best possible future ahead of you," Freddie said. "And, well, I guess the way I've always thought that would happen for you is for you to study hard in school, get into a good college and get a well, traditionally successful job. But…But I realize that maybe…maybe your future can still be just as bright even-even if you don't take the path that I've always envisioned for you. If…If your dream is to really become a professional athlete, Tyler…I-I support you one hundred percent."
"You do?" Tyler said, slightly taken aback.
"Of course," Freddie nodded. "You're my son, Tyler. I'll always support you."
"Wow, um, thanks dad," Tyler said.
"You do still need to work on your grades, though," Freddie added quickly. "You can't just forget about school."
"I know," Tyler said. "I've told you; I'm going to work harder this semester to bring everything up. I even have a tutor."
"Oh," Freddie nodded. "Well that's a great start! And hey, if you ever need help with math or science, those were my specialties in high school. And you're mom's always been great at English. We'll both help you as much as we can."
"Yeah, that'd-that'd be great," Tyler nodded. "I could use all the help I can get."
"Well, good, I-I'm glad to hear you're willing to work," Freddie said. "We'll make sure you get back on track with your grades, Tyler."
"I really am going to try, dad," Tyler said.
Freddie gave a small smile. "I know."
