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The man took the podium, scanning the students. 'Ah, Streetlamp, just who I wanted to see. Get on up here,' he says - the attention of the whole lecture theatre suddenly on him.

That year, him and Abigail get close again, friends - they talk most nights. It turns out their dorms aren't that far away from each other. Turns out that she'd gotten into pre-med at Harvard, but dropped out during her first semester. She'd taken to goign out every night, partying hard enough to make most college students envious.

She'd changed. She was no longer a sweet girl, but she was an amazing one. She never acted like an idiot around him, or sucked up to him, or tried to be cute - she was just who she was.

As the year progressed, the football season wore on. They were going undefeated in their division. Two other teams were undefeated too though, it was uncertain whether or not they'd go to the BCS. When they were selected, there was an uproar. Everyone just presumed it was because of Streetlamp that they'd gotten through.

That year, they win the BCS.

Third year, last year of Pre-Law.

Abigail and Streetlamp start dating. The Coach of the Cardinal's didn't like it to begin with. There was a lot of conflict - he thought that she was bad for him, that she was dangerous. The cropped spikey hair and leather she always wore - even in the dead of summer didn't help Streetlamp's case.

It was a Tuesday night that the sparks truly flew. Streetlamp was sitting in Coach's office, a combination of Mahogany and Red lush carpet (Coach had been given a raise after the BCS championship).

'It isn't acceptable Streetlamp. I can't have my star athlete going around dating somebody like that. It isn't just about you anymore. It's about your career, it's about the public perception, it's about our fans and the teams that are scouting you - that want you. Is it really worth risking all of that for -' he paused, a look of disgust on his face, 'her?'

'Quite frankly coach,' he said, staring him straight in the eyes, 'I couldn't care less. I try to always do what's right, and to always be honest, and that's what I'm going to do now. Abigail is the girl that I care about, that I love, her appearance be damned. She is the single most kind, caring, intelligent and brilliant girl that I have ever met, and if you were to ask me to give up either her or football. Well, I'd have to have a long think about that.'

'Boy, I've been where you are before. I've cared for, god damn - I've loved girls with more of me than I care to admit, but this is your future. This is the rest of your life. She isn't the type that you marry. She's the type that you fuck for a few years, spend your fortune on and then leaves you for your best buddy.' He inhaled, tearing up a little bit, 'I just don't want to see you hurt by her Streetlamp.'

'I understand Coach, but you have to understand me. I've known her for most of my life, I've trusted her with all that I am, and she hasn't betrayed me. Sure, we have rough patches, we drift apart sometimes, but we always come back. We. Always. Come. Back. Football is one thing coach, but a life without the girl that I love - that's something completely different.'

They sat in silence for a little while. Coach staring at his desk and Streetlamp, at his lap.

Streetlamp's voice croaked as he started to speak again; 'If you're asking me to choose between football and the love of my life, you know the answer.'

That season, they went undefeated again with Streetlamp starting every single game. His passing rating sat on 192.1 for the season, and the speculation surrounding his decision at the end of the year was making the news every single night.

A lot of the pro teams have been flying out their coaches to talk to him. He's not sure. He's conflicted; ambivalent.

It was late on a Friday that he decided to seek advice. He called his father; the rock of his life. The man that had always been there for him, loved and cared for him. The man that would give up everything for his son's happiness.

'Son,' his father had said, 'You've always loved Football, but you've always loved helping people too. I think that's the quality that I most admire in you. You're a special kid, the best son that a father can hope for, and one that I'm so very proud of.' Streetlamp could hear his father crying now, 'I don't know what decision you'll make, but I know you, and I know that whatever decision you come to is going to be the right one.'

Draft day 2032.

Streetlamp is paraded across the stage along with the rest of the speculated top draft picks. He wears a nice suit with a plain white shirt underneath and a crisp dark tie. Just looking at him, you can tell that behind those eyes lurks an incredible intellect.

The introductory proceedings stretch on for half an hour, but finally, they're backstage again. Streetlamp sighs, his nerves holding his chest in a vice.

'It's going to be fine honey.' She says, hugging him tight to her chest.

'I know. It's just. Wow.'

'Who would've thought, hey?'

'Who would've thought.'

'I always knew, I read a story about you once,' said his Father, joking to relieve the tension. 'Best god damn story ever written.'

Streetlamp laughed. 'That's ridiculous.'

'Loosened you up though, didn't it?'

'Sure did.'

There was a short silence. Streetlamp rubbed his eyes.

'Did you get much sleep last night?' His mother asked.

'Not enough.' Streetlamp said, 'the nerves, y'no.'

'First pick, I'm telling you son. LA Jaguars - your new home.'

The introductions are done - the elderly Peyton Manning stands in front of thousands of fans - millions watching live at home.

'The first pick of the 2032 draft goes to the LA Jaguars.'

A tense minute passes. Streetlamp watches the action on a small tv in the backstage area - a camera up in his face.

Another minute passes. He starts to panic. Abigail clutches his hand. Staring at her, he can't help but smile. Over the last year, she'd traded her cropped hair for a longer style, and her leather in for sweaters and blouses. She never did say why, but he suspected that word got back to her about his confrontation with the coach. He'd asked, but she just denied.

'... and with the first pick of the 2032 NFL draft, the LA Jaguars pick... Streetlamp Le Moose!'

His jaw drops, exhaling deeply, his eyes wide open. His mother and father are jumping up and down screaming, Abigail is clutching on to him tighter than ever. 'You did it,' she says, 'you did it.'

The day after, the contract had been drawn up, including the special circumstances. The news story broke that night 'Streetlamp Le Moose - Signed for $47 million over 7 years. Reported to also be attending Law School as well.'

He's taking the degree externally.

He'd told his father the day before the signing. He'd been accepted to Yale.

2036

He hesitated briefly, enough time for a grin to stretch ear to ear.

'I do.'

'You may now kiss the bride.'

With that, he removed the veil from over Abigails face. She smiled back at him. Her hair was well past her shoulders now, and stuck a little to the veil. He wiped it off, tucking it behind her ear.

'I love you, you know.'

She smiled 'I know.'

In that moment, during that kiss, he felt like he'd never kissed a girl before, like this was the beginning of a lot of firsts.

He slipped the ring onto her finger, it was simple - plain. White gold with an inlay of diamonds.

She slipped his on, plain gold. It contrasted beautifully with the 2 over-designed superbowl rings on his right hand.

The same year, he stood in front the graduation class of Yale Law School.

'I don't know very many of you,' he said, 'and that's a shame. I don't doubt that you're all wonderful people, and it pains me to have not had the opportunity to meet and spend time with you all. We have all had a tough few years, struggling through Corporate Law and the intricacies of Civil Procedure, but, we made it."

'Today," he started, staring out at the crowd 'we stand not students, but Lawyers. We stand as the guardians of justice. We stand as the defenders of good. We stand as the people that can make a physical, tangible change to the world for the better.'

'I want to tell you all a story. In middle school, I fell in love with a girl. I ran into her again in my second year of pre-law. She didn't look like she used to, or act like the person she once was, but love doesn't discriminate.'

'I had to make on of the hardest decisions of my life that year. My coach asked me to choose between playing football and being with the person that I love. He asked me to choose because of how she looked, of how she was perceived, of the person that he believed that she was judging only on the superficial. I chose her.'

'That day, it struck me, there's a lot of people in this world that judge and believe based solely off the superficial. There are a lot of people that don't care to take the time to get to know somebody, to care for them and understand them. I ask everybody here today to remember this, and hold it as tightly as I do.'

'It is our job now to fight for people who can't fight anymore, it is not our job to judge them for how they got there. It is our job to create permanent, lasting change - not to make our world appear better, to make it actually better.'

'I would like to leave you today with a quote; “The real judges of your character aren't your neighbors, your relatives, or even the people you play bridge with. The folks who really know you are waiters, waitresses, and clerks."'

'Thankyou.'

Was not disappoint