I clear my throat. "I've been giving a lot of thought to the upcoming draft and I think I should enter it this year. There's no point in delaying the inevitable." Even though I don't tack on-because we need the money, the words hang in the air.
His brow furrows as if he doesn't understand why I'm bringing this up. "We already talked about this. You need to finish college first and get your degree."
My gaze bounces around the interior of our dilapidated house. What I see is all the improvements that could be made if I were to get picked up by a team this spring. It's all but a certainty. I've been scouted since I was a freshman in high school. I red-shirted my freshman year of college, which means I practiced with the team but didn't play in any of the games so I could retain four years of eligibility at the college level. I've only used up two. I could technically stay at Barnett for another two years if I wanted to get more experience under my belt.