This story is for all my football fans. All my people who like inspirational stories and my folks who just love to read.
A Legendary Life.
He can't talk. Like when he was a kid. He remembered. He had been unable to talk for years after his father died. He couldn't make sound come out.
He can't make sound now. He can't catch his breath.
He doesn't feel bad. Just seems like the fire is extra warm. He feels a slight pain. His smart chair noticed a change in his vitals and monitored it.
Not much pain. He actually felt high. He had only been a couple of times. He remembered.
His mind was flooded with memories. A lifetime of memories.
He was the youngest of 5. He had grown up fighting his older siblings. Just because they were older his four brothers took no pity on him.
All of his cousins were older as well. And yeah he fought them every day too.
On top of being the youngest Jason Damage' Lofton couldn't or wouldn't speak. He was small compared to the size his brothers had been at his age.
He was tough though. He wore the countless “ass kicking’s” his cousins, brothers and even his “Uncle” gave him. He knew almost all of his real uncles and “Uncle Tommy” wasn't his kin. He was just a nigga that his mother felt she needed. Jason tried not to hate him. He really tried.
He may have only been ten, but he knew that this man had no right to touch him. He remembered his father. He was a powerful man. A man, for real.
Jason knew the difference. His dad had told him.
“Damage'” the mountain of a man had said, his voice smooth, yet big and dangerous, like thunderheads in a sunset.
He remembered his daddy always called him Damage.
“Having hair round ya ass don't make ya no main.” The curious little boy showed no fear of this huge man whose hand covered the then, seven year old’s entire back as he rested it there.
The boy asked what was on his mind. “What does daddy?” His father's outburst was immediate. “Boy you is smart enough, Anit chew? Good Jesus I like your mind son!”
He stood drawing his runt son with him. He stepped his 6' 9 inch body off the front porch. He reached back and grabbed his little bronze medal complexion son, and his reddish bronze bottle of Whiskey. “The finest in Tennessee!” He was known to yell drunkenly his deeper then Barry White bass booming in the Tennessee hills.
He was uncharacteristically quiet that day. Jason remembered. As the electric, numbness spread up his arms He remembered. He remembered his Father's answer. He had sat on his Father's shoulders and his daddy had turned him in a circle.
“This land, this here is MINE. I worked hard for it. I Earnt every Fucking inch ya hearing me Damage’?“
The boy answered with a giggle in his voice. “Yes sir daddy and I can feel you talking in my stomach!”
Young Damage’ had found that hilarious. As he grew into a Man to emphasize a point his favorite thing to say was “You better feel me in your stomach when I say…”
He had taken that page from his Father’s book.
“Damn right Damage' ya better. Ya better feel me in your stomach son! Now, I tell you that it’s how you live that determine if you a main.”
The elder Lofton, paused and took a long draw of the bottle at his side.
“Damage’ my son.” He pulled the small boy down from his shoulders. He brought him to eye level and looked into his eyes.
Jason, recalled how joyous his Father's dark brown eyes were. “A main become a main by handling his business, earning a good name. Now whether they love ya or fear ya don't make a fuck! Keep ya name good!” He held the boy steady as well as holding his gaze.
“Take care of ya family's needs, respect folks, and if'n somebody say something ill of you, let it be a lie. Most important protect your shit!”
He pronounced that and Damage’ still felt that in his stomach.
“Uncle Tommy “ was not a man. His father had been a man. It had taken 8 men to hold his father. Even though he had been fatally wounded. He had tried to get the man that had emptied his .380 into his abdomen over a debt he owed Leroy for mechanic work, out of the police cruiser.
The 8 men holding him included the paramedics who'd been there to save him. Leroy Lofton died “Protecting his shit.”
Tommy wasn't disciplining him. Tommy got drunk and wanted to fight. He was a coward so he wouldn't fight his teenage brothers.
He remembered wondering why he wasn't “Their Shit?” and if he was, why they weren't protecting him? “Maybe Daddy didn't tell them. I'm his favorite!” He had thought of his father in the current tense for years after he died.
For three agonizing years Jason fought everybody. Sure a couple of his brothers had left, joining the military to get away. He could beat them anyway. In fact the amount of family coming to the “Ass Kicking’s” had dwindled.
At 13 he was still small for his family. He stood 5”8” His heart was king sized. He was fearless, he never flinched. Jason watched his opponent's body language constantly learning to exploit weaknesses. Soon none of the older boys wanted to come around for “Ass Kicking Time”. Damage’ was now the kicker and not the kickee.
By the time his DNA proved that he was Leroy Lofton’s progeny he didn't need the added size to reinforce the fearful respect he'd earned.
He remembered when he spoke again. “Uncle Tommy” had went to far. He had beaten his mothers sorry excuse for a boyfriend into a blubbering pulp. He had made sure that the man knew it was no fluke.
He had let him know that, he could beat him at will. Then he told him, “I don't reckon my momma need you no mo. I protect her now.”
The older man left without looking at Damage' it was while his mother was at work, something that she had never done while Leroy was alive. And wouldn't again once Damage’ became a man. When his mother asked, then 15 year old Damage’, answered in a voice that rivaled his father’s thunderous tone. “He gone I am going to protect you now mama. I got you.”
Next came Tennessee Volunteer football. He was a juggernaut. He played Defensive tackle as an offensive position. His instincts were predatory. He had taken three starting quarterbacks out of key games and in the process he won two national championships and notoriety.
They called him “The Punisher” until an over zealous college reporter had discovered that his middle name was Damage’. He was smart enough to know that his middle name was marketable and he crafted and honed the brand.
Damage', reached out to Marvel comics asking for permission to use the Punisher emblem. He had been turned down. So he created his own symbol.
He had been drafted late in the 2nd round. He and many sports analysts had been surprised. Everyone expected him to be drafted by the Tennessee Titans, with their 1st round pick. He was the local star and the Titans had been anemic on defense.
Damage' had been stunned when they had gone with the Hawaiian kid from the Buckeyes. The Jaguars and Patriots had passed on him despite having gaps at defense.
He didn't realize that teams were shying away from his marketing.
Finally the New Orleans Saints called him. The fit was unbelievable. The Saints had recently been labeled as “The Bayou Badboys”, following three scandals and three winning season's. The superbowl champs, had traded their problem child running back who had helped with their 3 ring streak.
The running back had been videoed beating up his girlfriend. The Cleveland Browns had been desperate enough to trade for him.
The experts doubted the rookie the Saints had drafted to replace him; Ladarius Lance, would be equal to the challenge. The mad scientists that set up the New Orleans Saints draft did well. In addition to the acquisition of Damage’ they had picked up Morgan Slaughter a 6' 9” 368 lbs. monster from New Mexico, and the college soccer star turned kicker Alexander Thyme.
Jason fought hard for his position. The competition was fierce. The guys on the practice squad were all trying to get his spot. He admired a lot of them. He would not lose though.
He cost his team some crucial yards by being over eager in game one of preseason. Sure Cam Newton was set to retire but Damage' was determined to put a “Hello World” hit on the division rival QB. He got his chance one down later.
The Offensive line had put double coverage on Slaughter. They had underestimated Damage'. He made them pay for the underestimate. The sound of Cam’s body being driven into the turf was followed by a roar from the WHO DAT nation.
His teammate Slaughter recovered the fumbled ball. As they were walking off field to allow Collin Kapernick and the offense on the field, Slaughter threw him a military salute and nod that he returned.
Cam Newton was out for the season. Then retired. He had killed Superman.
Four preseason games and 5 ½ sacks later he was the toast of the big easy. He was requested for nearly all the Mardi Gras parades.
A local sports reporter speaking to recently retired Saints legend Drew Brees and rapper entrepreneur Master P. gave the Saints a new nickname. “Well Master P what do you think of these No limit Soldiers? Can they go to the big game again?”
Both Brees and P eagerly hopped on board. By the end of the show they were referring to the entire squad with military titles. “Private Thyme”, “Sergeant Slaughter”, Lance Corporal Lance” “Major Damage” Captains Kapernick and Kamara and General Payton.
The newly minted “No Limit Soldiers” marched on through every team in the league. They were the 2nd team in NFL history to go undefeated all the way to the Lombardi trophy. Despite a much tougher offensive scheme based on the way they had played the year before The “No Limit Soldiers” shocked the world by becoming the only team to go undefeated twice in a row.
Damage’s two super bowl rings helped him launch his own brand of Tennessee Whiskey. He used his Father’s recipe. Leroy had gotten the time proven formula from his Father.
Damage' called it “Lofton Select” and the smoke aged ‘PYS' extra fine, was voted best new whiskey 2022.
The land that he had seen from his Father’s shoulders had been cleared and the heart of “Lofton Select” beat there vigorously.
Three of his older brothers ran the day to day operations. His Eldest brother had been gifted with P.Y.S. Personal Protection Service. Some of the guys who had played practice squad worked for him. He had a booming business in Atlanta.
With endorsements and a solid 3rd season underway Damage’ had a revelation.
He'd spent two days holed up with a basketball player from New York. She was amazing. He began thinking about Tennessee and New Orleans not having a WNBA team. Either market seemed viable but his contract wasn't that lucrative. “The best Whiskey in Tennessee” was just getting started. Damage' approached his teammates. The interest was minimal. He spoke to Master P, who was interested, and with a Mississippi writer who had a couple movies made from his books. The author was excited. However he insisted on building the stadium in Mississippi. Master P and Damage' gave in.
With that the “Gulf Coast Golden Wave” was born.
Despite losing a couple of heartbreaking games including a one point loss in his 3rd super bowl appearance. Damage' went on to get 2 more rings over the next 6 seasons. He retired. He was inducted into the hall of fame.
His WNBA team the “Golden Wave” won two championships, his daughter was at the helm of one of those teams.
His hometown renamed themselves Lofton Tennessee. He remembered.
P.Y.S. Personal Protection Service was still a family business. His nephews ran it now.
Two of his brothers had died. He remembered. He remembered it ALL.
Damage's sons had gone on to have careers of their own. One of them was as record breaking as he had been. They called him the Punisher and Marvel comics had begged him to Don their emblem. He had taken his three son’s and two daughters to the factory.
Given them the “Feel what I'm saying in your stomach” speech in his own way. He remembered. He had married and divorced two WNBA stars. He had five grand babies. He remembered.
His Samsung smart chair dispatched rescue as his heart began to fail. His heart struggled to pump. His daughter married his division rivals the hated Falcons star Offensive lineman. He remembered. As a sudden pain ripped through his side and electric tingles shot up his arm, a wrenching pain like having a blunt object forced into his flesh, punched him in his lower back.
A helicopter can be heard attempting to land.
He arches His back in agony.
His hand falls asleep and he remembers.
His life had been legendary.
He can't talk. Like when he was a kid. He remembered. He had been unable to talk for years after his father died. He couldn't make sound come out.
He can't make sound now. He can't catch his breath.
He doesn't feel bad. Just seems like the fire is extra warm. He feels a slight pain. His smart chair noticed a change in his vitals and monitored it.
Not much pain. He actually felt high. He had only been a couple of times. He remembered.
His mind was flooded with memories. A lifetime of memories.
He was the youngest of 5. He had grown up fighting his older siblings. Just because they were older his four brothers took no pity on him.
All of his cousins were older as well. And yeah he fought them every day too.
On top of being the youngest Jason Damage' Lofton couldn't or wouldn't speak. He was small compared to the size his brothers had been at his age.
He was tough though. He wore the countless “ass kicking’s” his cousins, brothers and even his “Uncle” gave him. He knew almost all of his real uncles and “Uncle Tommy” wasn't his kin. He was just a nigga that his mother felt she needed. Jason tried not to hate him. He really tried.
He may have only been ten, but he knew that this man had no right to touch him. He remembered his father. He was a powerful man. A man, for real.
Jason knew the difference. His dad had told him.
“Damage'” the mountain of a man had said, his voice smooth, yet big and dangerous, like thunderheads in a sunset.
He remembered his daddy always called him Damage.
“Having hair round ya ass don't make ya no main.” The curious little boy showed no fear of this huge man whose hand covered the then, seven year old’s entire back as he rested it there.
The boy asked what was on his mind. “What does daddy?” His father's outburst was immediate. “Boy you is smart enough, Anit chew? Good Jesus I like your mind son!”
He stood drawing his runt son with him. He stepped his 6' 9 inch body off the front porch. He reached back and grabbed his little bronze medal complexion son, and his reddish bronze bottle of Whiskey. “The finest in Tennessee!” He was known to yell drunkenly his deeper then Barry White bass booming in the Tennessee hills.
He was uncharacteristically quiet that day. Jason remembered. As the electric, numbness spread up his arms He remembered. He remembered his Father's answer. He had sat on his Father's shoulders and his daddy had turned him in a circle.
“This land, this here is MINE. I worked hard for it. I Earnt every Fucking inch ya hearing me Damage’?“
The boy answered with a giggle in his voice. “Yes sir daddy and I can feel you talking in my stomach!”
Young Damage’ had found that hilarious. As he grew into a Man to emphasize a point his favorite thing to say was “You better feel me in your stomach when I say…”
He had taken that page from his Father’s book.
“Damn right Damage' ya better. Ya better feel me in your stomach son! Now, I tell you that it’s how you live that determine if you a main.”
The elder Lofton, paused and took a long draw of the bottle at his side.
“Damage’ my son.” He pulled the small boy down from his shoulders. He brought him to eye level and looked into his eyes.
Jason, recalled how joyous his Father's dark brown eyes were. “A main become a main by handling his business, earning a good name. Now whether they love ya or fear ya don't make a fuck! Keep ya name good!” He held the boy steady as well as holding his gaze.
“Take care of ya family's needs, respect folks, and if'n somebody say something ill of you, let it be a lie. Most important protect your shit!”
He pronounced that and Damage’ still felt that in his stomach.
“Uncle Tommy “ was not a man. His father had been a man. It had taken 8 men to hold his father. Even though he had been fatally wounded. He had tried to get the man that had emptied his .380 into his abdomen over a debt he owed Leroy for mechanic work, out of the police cruiser.
The 8 men holding him included the paramedics who'd been there to save him. Leroy Lofton died “Protecting his shit.”
Tommy wasn't disciplining him. Tommy got drunk and wanted to fight. He was a coward so he wouldn't fight his teenage brothers.
He remembered wondering why he wasn't “Their Shit?” and if he was, why they weren't protecting him? “Maybe Daddy didn't tell them. I'm his favorite!” He had thought of his father in the current tense for years after he died.
For three agonizing years Jason fought everybody. Sure a couple of his brothers had left, joining the military to get away. He could beat them anyway. In fact the amount of family coming to the “Ass Kicking’s” had dwindled.
At 13 he was still small for his family. He stood 5”8” His heart was king sized. He was fearless, he never flinched. Jason watched his opponent's body language constantly learning to exploit weaknesses. Soon none of the older boys wanted to come around for “Ass Kicking Time”. Damage’ was now the kicker and not the kickee.
By the time his DNA proved that he was Leroy Lofton’s progeny he didn't need the added size to reinforce the fearful respect he'd earned.
He remembered when he spoke again. “Uncle Tommy” had went to far. He had beaten his mothers sorry excuse for a boyfriend into a blubbering pulp. He had made sure that the man knew it was no fluke.
He had let him know that, he could beat him at will. Then he told him, “I don't reckon my momma need you no mo. I protect her now.”
The older man left without looking at Damage' it was while his mother was at work, something that she had never done while Leroy was alive. And wouldn't again once Damage’ became a man. When his mother asked, then 15 year old Damage’, answered in a voice that rivaled his father’s thunderous tone. “He gone I am going to protect you now mama. I got you.”
Next came Tennessee Volunteer football. He was a juggernaut. He played Defensive tackle as an offensive position. His instincts were predatory. He had taken three starting quarterbacks out of key games and in the process he won two national championships and notoriety.
They called him “The Punisher” until an over zealous college reporter had discovered that his middle name was Damage’. He was smart enough to know that his middle name was marketable and he crafted and honed the brand.
Damage', reached out to Marvel comics asking for permission to use the Punisher emblem. He had been turned down. So he created his own symbol.
He had been drafted late in the 2nd round. He and many sports analysts had been surprised. Everyone expected him to be drafted by the Tennessee Titans, with their 1st round pick. He was the local star and the Titans had been anemic on defense.
Damage' had been stunned when they had gone with the Hawaiian kid from the Buckeyes. The Jaguars and Patriots had passed on him despite having gaps at defense.
He didn't realize that teams were shying away from his marketing.
Finally the New Orleans Saints called him. The fit was unbelievable. The Saints had recently been labeled as “The Bayou Badboys”, following three scandals and three winning season's. The superbowl champs, had traded their problem child running back who had helped with their 3 ring streak.
The running back had been videoed beating up his girlfriend. The Cleveland Browns had been desperate enough to trade for him.
The experts doubted the rookie the Saints had drafted to replace him; Ladarius Lance, would be equal to the challenge. The mad scientists that set up the New Orleans Saints draft did well. In addition to the acquisition of Damage’ they had picked up Morgan Slaughter a 6' 9” 368 lbs. monster from New Mexico, and the college soccer star turned kicker Alexander Thyme.
Jason fought hard for his position. The competition was fierce. The guys on the practice squad were all trying to get his spot. He admired a lot of them. He would not lose though.
He cost his team some crucial yards by being over eager in game one of preseason. Sure Cam Newton was set to retire but Damage' was determined to put a “Hello World” hit on the division rival QB. He got his chance one down later.
The Offensive line had put double coverage on Slaughter. They had underestimated Damage'. He made them pay for the underestimate. The sound of Cam’s body being driven into the turf was followed by a roar from the WHO DAT nation.
His teammate Slaughter recovered the fumbled ball. As they were walking off field to allow Collin Kapernick and the offense on the field, Slaughter threw him a military salute and nod that he returned.
Cam Newton was out for the season. Then retired. He had killed Superman.
Four preseason games and 5 ½ sacks later he was the toast of the big easy. He was requested for nearly all the Mardi Gras parades.
A local sports reporter speaking to recently retired Saints legend Drew Brees and rapper entrepreneur Master P. gave the Saints a new nickname. “Well Master P what do you think of these No limit Soldiers? Can they go to the big game again?”
Both Brees and P eagerly hopped on board. By the end of the show they were referring to the entire squad with military titles. “Private Thyme”, “Sergeant Slaughter”, Lance Corporal Lance” “Major Damage” Captains Kapernick and Kamara and General Payton.
The newly minted “No Limit Soldiers” marched on through every team in the league. They were the 2nd team in NFL history to go undefeated all the way to the Lombardi trophy. Despite a much tougher offensive scheme based on the way they had played the year before The “No Limit Soldiers” shocked the world by becoming the only team to go undefeated twice in a row.
Damage’s two super bowl rings helped him launch his own brand of Tennessee Whiskey. He used his Father’s recipe. Leroy had gotten the time proven formula from his Father.
Damage' called it “Lofton Select” and the smoke aged ‘PYS' extra fine, was voted best new whiskey 2022.
The land that he had seen from his Father’s shoulders had been cleared and the heart of “Lofton Select” beat there vigorously.
Three of his older brothers ran the day to day operations. His Eldest brother had been gifted with P.Y.S. Personal Protection Service. Some of the guys who had played practice squad worked for him. He had a booming business in Atlanta.
With endorsements and a solid 3rd season underway Damage’ had a revelation.
He'd spent two days holed up with a basketball player from New York. She was amazing. He began thinking about Tennessee and New Orleans not having a WNBA team. Either market seemed viable but his contract wasn't that lucrative. “The best Whiskey in Tennessee” was just getting started. Damage' approached his teammates. The interest was minimal. He spoke to Master P, who was interested, and with a Mississippi writer who had a couple movies made from his books. The author was excited. However he insisted on building the stadium in Mississippi. Master P and Damage' gave in.
With that the “Gulf Coast Golden Wave” was born.
Despite losing a couple of heartbreaking games including a one point loss in his 3rd super bowl appearance. Damage' went on to get 2 more rings over the next 6 seasons. He retired. He was inducted into the hall of fame.
His WNBA team the “Golden Wave” won two championships, his daughter was at the helm of one of those teams.
His hometown renamed themselves Lofton Tennessee. He remembered.
P.Y.S. Personal Protection Service was still a family business. His nephews ran it now.
Two of his brothers had died. He remembered. He remembered it ALL.
Damage's sons had gone on to have careers of their own. One of them was as record breaking as he had been. They called him the Punisher and Marvel comics had begged him to Don their emblem. He had taken his three son’s and two daughters to the factory.
Given them the “Feel what I'm saying in your stomach” speech in his own way. He remembered. He had married and divorced two WNBA stars. He had five grand babies. He remembered.
His Samsung smart chair dispatched rescue as his heart began to fail. His heart struggled to pump. His daughter married his division rivals the hated Falcons star Offensive lineman. He remembered. As a sudden pain ripped through his side and electric tingles shot up his arm, a wrenching pain like having a blunt object forced into his flesh, punched him in his lower back.
A helicopter can be heard attempting to land.
He arches His back in agony.
His hand falls asleep and he remembers.
His life had been legendary.
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