Colorado State University Athletics
Photo by: CSU Athletics Communications
Ajayi finds motivation out of sadness
8/9/2019 9:00:00 AM | Football
Cornerback was shown his family extends to Fort Collins
FORT COLLINS, Colo. – Parents do what they can to shield their children.
Last September, Rashad Ajayi was learning what it meant to not only be a college student, but a starter as a true freshman on Colorado State's football team. Even with today's technology, some news can't be handled via a call or text from 1,472 miles away. And some people just are very private.
Yomi Ajayi was one of them.
The very same month Yomi was diagnosed with stage four skin cancer was when his son was starting his first season of college football. Rashad understands why his father didn't tell him at the time, because Yomi told no one. Not his closest friends, not even Rashad's mother, Janeen Lindsey. Despite being divorced, the two remained so close that even the Colorado State coaching staff didn't realize they were no longer together.
"I didn't know either," Lindsey said. "He was one of those type of guys. He didn't want us to see him like that, and he thought he'd be able to beat it. He didn't want to stress Rashad out over something he said he was going to beat, and he knew if he told me I was going to tell Rashad. It was really a shock when we found out."
Even after returning home at the end of his first semester, one where he had become the first true freshman to start every game for the Rams since Rashard Higgins in 2013, the diagnosis wasn't immediately shared.
"When I was home, I found out that he had a blood clot in his leg and he couldn't walk that much," Rashad said. "I thought I was just going to the hospital for that, and he was in the hospital for a few days. I really didn't think it was that big a deal, but I found out he was actually diagnosed with skin cancer, stage four, in September. They didn't want to tell me, because they didn't want me to have a distraction.
"I know my mom, she tried to tell me over breakfast, but she didn't. I kinda knew, but when we were in the hospital room, he just told me he had cancer, but he was going to beat it, he was going to be good."
So he remained hopeful, and he did until he no longer could. One night, he left his father's hospital room in Atlanta, Yomi telling him he was feeling better. The next morning, Yomi passed away.
He was with family to comfort him then, but he also had family waiting for him in Fort Collins, a sentiment he shared with head coach Mike Bobo.
When he returned to Fort Collins, fullback Adam Prentice gave Rashad a ride home one night. Prentice knew exactly what his young teammate was experiencing, because he went through it himself, losing his father, Gary, right before the start of his freshman season.
"I just expressed to him, I shared with him that I had similar experience and I was here for him, here to talk if he wanted to and need to, just to let him know he wasn't alone in it," Prentice said. "I know when I went through it, you know there are people around you that want to help, but you don't always want to reach out and ask for it sometimes. I just wanted to reach out and be like, hey, I understand what you're going through. I understand if you want to sit there and cry, whatever you need to do.
"When I went through it, I had a lot of people reach out, and that support got me through it. You have a lot of bad days, but good days too. It's a tough situation."
Rashad understood every single word. He knows he has a tendency to bottle up his emotions, but in Prentice and others, he had people who cared, who understood. He remembers Prentice being honest about the fact the hurt never goes away, the emotions will ebb and flow and that just around every corner could be a trigger.
For Rashad, it could be seeing someone like his dad in a movie, or listening to his teammates talk about their fathers.
"Honestly, I found out that we were together as a family during the season. We had things before games called devotionals, where players would come up and tell their story, say how they felt about certain things," Rashad said. "I learned a lot from different guys, things I never would have thought of. It made me think, wow, they're that comfortable telling me that stuff.
"When it happened, I didn't know how to branch out and say, bro, I need to talk, but that made me seem more comfortable."
He's found certain things help him get through different emotions. He will use Twitter to post messages, one way of him reaching out to his father. He also still sends text messages to Yomi's phone, just to let him know about certain moments in a day, a week.
He has also discovered another measure of drive, dedicating not just this season, but his life, to his father's memory.
"I can't say enough about that young man," Bobo said. "He lost his father after the season, very, very suddenly. (It was a) very difficult thing for him, but the whole time, he's like I can't wait to get back to my teammates. He's always been a hard worker constantly, he just goes about his business, but he's totally changed about being vocal and challenging guys and pushing himself. This guy is on a mission. He's helped change -- I hate using the word culture -- but he's helped change really the mindset of the DB room."
To see Rashad a year later is to notice some changes immediately. He has packed on 17 pounds to his frame, making him one of the stronger players on the roster, pound-for-pound. He's faster, and with a season under his belt, becoming more of a leader.
He tries not to think about his father before or during workouts, adding the drive is always in the back of his mind. One workout, late in the summer, he felt overwhelmed with sadness, and he wasn't sure he wanted to keep pushing forward, so he called his mom.
"My main concern was for him to keep his father in the remembrance of the reason why his father didn't want him to know in the first place, that he didn't want him to worry. He didn't want him to stop playing ball, he didn't want him to be stressed," Lindsey said. "He wanted him to be able to go on and do what I believe he was sent here to do.
"His father didn't want him distracted from that. I just listened to him as he sobbed, and after I heard him quiet down a bit, I told him I get it. I have never lost a parent, but I can tell you how it feels to have lost a best friend. We had been divorced for many years, but he was one of my best friends. Even though I was divorced, I was never a single momma."
The conversation helped calm Rashad, and he came away struck with an idea to carry his father with him at all times.
"Two days later, I got it done," Rashad said, looking down at the inside of his left forearm, where a tattoo of a smiling Yomi looks back. "And I haven't really had one of those days sense. Every three seconds, I'm always looking down at it."
Wearing a sleeve when he's playing, he can't see the artwork, but he knows it's there. So he looks at it, then points two fingers to the sky as he steps through the gates onto the practice field.
Naturally, Lindsey was worried about her son, handling the loss so far from home. She also somewhat comforted in knowing his teammates and coaches would look out for him. She knew this deep down, because when she called the football offices with the news, Bobo didn't blink at Rashad reporting late. And instead of sending a sympathy card, both Bobo and assistant coach Joe Cox made the trip to Georgia for the funeral.
Like the football field, his teammates remain there for Rashad in his personal life. For Prentice, the title of family is real in the locker room, and that support is there for all of them. He still needs it at times.
"It's something special. Everybody has gone through something, and everybody has a story," Prentice said. "It's actually pretty beautiful how close we are because of those things. It's just awesome that we have this team and this support staff, and they're here for us no matter what. They've got our backs."
Because the moments can hit at any time, and some triggers are yet to be discovered. It could be a song, maybe a smell in the air, a certain time of the day or year. How it will affect you, as Prentice explained that ride home, is a great unknown.
So, in a certain moment, Rashad may go back and watch video of his father talking about him, and it's good to just hear his voice. He needs that some days.
"I'm learning how to deal with it," Rashad said. "I'm just not through it yet."
Last September, Rashad Ajayi was learning what it meant to not only be a college student, but a starter as a true freshman on Colorado State's football team. Even with today's technology, some news can't be handled via a call or text from 1,472 miles away. And some people just are very private.
Yomi Ajayi was one of them.
The very same month Yomi was diagnosed with stage four skin cancer was when his son was starting his first season of college football. Rashad understands why his father didn't tell him at the time, because Yomi told no one. Not his closest friends, not even Rashad's mother, Janeen Lindsey. Despite being divorced, the two remained so close that even the Colorado State coaching staff didn't realize they were no longer together.
"I didn't know either," Lindsey said. "He was one of those type of guys. He didn't want us to see him like that, and he thought he'd be able to beat it. He didn't want to stress Rashad out over something he said he was going to beat, and he knew if he told me I was going to tell Rashad. It was really a shock when we found out."
Even after returning home at the end of his first semester, one where he had become the first true freshman to start every game for the Rams since Rashard Higgins in 2013, the diagnosis wasn't immediately shared.
"When I was home, I found out that he had a blood clot in his leg and he couldn't walk that much," Rashad said. "I thought I was just going to the hospital for that, and he was in the hospital for a few days. I really didn't think it was that big a deal, but I found out he was actually diagnosed with skin cancer, stage four, in September. They didn't want to tell me, because they didn't want me to have a distraction.
"I know my mom, she tried to tell me over breakfast, but she didn't. I kinda knew, but when we were in the hospital room, he just told me he had cancer, but he was going to beat it, he was going to be good."
So he remained hopeful, and he did until he no longer could. One night, he left his father's hospital room in Atlanta, Yomi telling him he was feeling better. The next morning, Yomi passed away.
He was with family to comfort him then, but he also had family waiting for him in Fort Collins, a sentiment he shared with head coach Mike Bobo.
When he returned to Fort Collins, fullback Adam Prentice gave Rashad a ride home one night. Prentice knew exactly what his young teammate was experiencing, because he went through it himself, losing his father, Gary, right before the start of his freshman season.
"I just expressed to him, I shared with him that I had similar experience and I was here for him, here to talk if he wanted to and need to, just to let him know he wasn't alone in it," Prentice said. "I know when I went through it, you know there are people around you that want to help, but you don't always want to reach out and ask for it sometimes. I just wanted to reach out and be like, hey, I understand what you're going through. I understand if you want to sit there and cry, whatever you need to do.
"When I went through it, I had a lot of people reach out, and that support got me through it. You have a lot of bad days, but good days too. It's a tough situation."
Rashad understood every single word. He knows he has a tendency to bottle up his emotions, but in Prentice and others, he had people who cared, who understood. He remembers Prentice being honest about the fact the hurt never goes away, the emotions will ebb and flow and that just around every corner could be a trigger.
For Rashad, it could be seeing someone like his dad in a movie, or listening to his teammates talk about their fathers.
"Honestly, I found out that we were together as a family during the season. We had things before games called devotionals, where players would come up and tell their story, say how they felt about certain things," Rashad said. "I learned a lot from different guys, things I never would have thought of. It made me think, wow, they're that comfortable telling me that stuff.
"When it happened, I didn't know how to branch out and say, bro, I need to talk, but that made me seem more comfortable."
He's found certain things help him get through different emotions. He will use Twitter to post messages, one way of him reaching out to his father. He also still sends text messages to Yomi's phone, just to let him know about certain moments in a day, a week.
He has also discovered another measure of drive, dedicating not just this season, but his life, to his father's memory.
"I can't say enough about that young man," Bobo said. "He lost his father after the season, very, very suddenly. (It was a) very difficult thing for him, but the whole time, he's like I can't wait to get back to my teammates. He's always been a hard worker constantly, he just goes about his business, but he's totally changed about being vocal and challenging guys and pushing himself. This guy is on a mission. He's helped change -- I hate using the word culture -- but he's helped change really the mindset of the DB room."
To see Rashad a year later is to notice some changes immediately. He has packed on 17 pounds to his frame, making him one of the stronger players on the roster, pound-for-pound. He's faster, and with a season under his belt, becoming more of a leader.
He tries not to think about his father before or during workouts, adding the drive is always in the back of his mind. One workout, late in the summer, he felt overwhelmed with sadness, and he wasn't sure he wanted to keep pushing forward, so he called his mom.
"My main concern was for him to keep his father in the remembrance of the reason why his father didn't want him to know in the first place, that he didn't want him to worry. He didn't want him to stop playing ball, he didn't want him to be stressed," Lindsey said. "He wanted him to be able to go on and do what I believe he was sent here to do.
"His father didn't want him distracted from that. I just listened to him as he sobbed, and after I heard him quiet down a bit, I told him I get it. I have never lost a parent, but I can tell you how it feels to have lost a best friend. We had been divorced for many years, but he was one of my best friends. Even though I was divorced, I was never a single momma."
The conversation helped calm Rashad, and he came away struck with an idea to carry his father with him at all times.
"Two days later, I got it done," Rashad said, looking down at the inside of his left forearm, where a tattoo of a smiling Yomi looks back. "And I haven't really had one of those days sense. Every three seconds, I'm always looking down at it."
Wearing a sleeve when he's playing, he can't see the artwork, but he knows it's there. So he looks at it, then points two fingers to the sky as he steps through the gates onto the practice field.
Naturally, Lindsey was worried about her son, handling the loss so far from home. She also somewhat comforted in knowing his teammates and coaches would look out for him. She knew this deep down, because when she called the football offices with the news, Bobo didn't blink at Rashad reporting late. And instead of sending a sympathy card, both Bobo and assistant coach Joe Cox made the trip to Georgia for the funeral.
Like the football field, his teammates remain there for Rashad in his personal life. For Prentice, the title of family is real in the locker room, and that support is there for all of them. He still needs it at times.
"It's something special. Everybody has gone through something, and everybody has a story," Prentice said. "It's actually pretty beautiful how close we are because of those things. It's just awesome that we have this team and this support staff, and they're here for us no matter what. They've got our backs."
Because the moments can hit at any time, and some triggers are yet to be discovered. It could be a song, maybe a smell in the air, a certain time of the day or year. How it will affect you, as Prentice explained that ride home, is a great unknown.
So, in a certain moment, Rashad may go back and watch video of his father talking about him, and it's good to just hear his voice. He needs that some days.
"I'm learning how to deal with it," Rashad said. "I'm just not through it yet."
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