Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 121095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
“Wherever you end up this season,” Roman says, “just do your best. Get yourself onto a roster, Luca. Any roster.”
“With the worst team in the NFL? No, thanks.”
Roman pauses. And it’s in that silence that I realize my big brother thinks that’d be okay for me. Because that’s all I’m good for. Is this truly how low I’ve sunk?
“You never know what could happen in this league,” Roman says. “Change your attitude and make some lemonade out of these lemons, as best you can.”
I grumble something under my breath.
“Look, I know the situation isn’t optimal,” Roman retorts. “But I think the new owner’s got a few tricks up her sleeve. Rumor has it she’s the one who personally recruited Coach Parker. If that’s true, then she’s a badass, because Jack Parker is one of the best in the game.” Roman snickers. “Despite how badly I dog-walked his players in college.”
“Two seasons in a row,” Levi adds with a snicker of his own.
Both Roman and Levi played for Michigan, albeit years apart, since Levi and I are six years younger than Roman. Our parents went there, too. So, we were all raised as Wolverines, even though I eventually wound up playing for Nebraska.
Roman exhales. “This might be your last shot, Luca, so you need to bust your ass, stop acting like life is a sitcom all the time, and show these fuckers why they should keep you around even after Moriarty signs his new deal.”
I bristle at the sitcom remark. “Football is stressful. Fun is fuel.”
“Not for me,” Levi deadpans, and Roman and I chuckle at his dry delivery.
“Well, yeah, because you’re evil,” I reply. Our family always calls Levi the evil twin, simply because he’s naturally more stoic and reserved than me. Plus, with “evil” being an anagram for Levi, it was a natural fit for a lifelong nickname.
I pull into the parking lot of the Mastodons’ training facility and turn off the engine. “Hopefully, Cameron will find me another team before today is over, and this conversation will be a moot point.”
“Or maybe you should bust your ass there,” Roman mutters. “Hey, Coach Hardy is just about to give his opening remarks, so I need to go. Have a good one, men.”
All of a sudden, the momentousness of the occasion for my big brother hits me like a ton of bricks. After more than a decade with the Crusaders, Roman is about to walk into training camp as a Thunderbolt, and yet here he is, using his valuable time to give his loser of a little brother some encouragement and tough love.
“Have a great training camp, guys,” I say. “Both of you. And Roman? This is your year, man. That ring will finally be yours.”
Roman ignores my pep talk, which is totally on brand for him. He prefers to do his talking on the field. “Show them a new you, Luca,” Roman says. “No stand-up routines in the middle of practice. No spontaneous Olympic reenactments on the uprights. Just put your nose down and show them what you can do on the field, and the rest will take care of itself.”
CHAPTER 5
Chelsea
I TAKE A deep breath to muster courage as Mr. Bellamy stands before me at the exit to the conference room. His body language isn’t warm or welcoming. Indeed, he’s got his arms folded over his chest in a way that makes it clear hanging back to chat with Coach Parker’s daughter, even for a moment, is the last thing in the world he wants to do with his precious time.
“Thanks for your time, Mr. Bellamy. I know you’re really busy, especially today. I was wondering if you’ve had a chance to take a look at my presentation—the one I sent you via email last week?”
“No.”
“Okay, well, in summary, I heard Peter will be leaving right before the regular season starts, and I’d love to slide into his position in your department before you post about the job opening.” He opens his mouth to speak, but I quickly add, “I’m sure you probably haven’t thought of me as the right person for that job, because you don’t know my background and I’ve been brought here to perform kind of loosely defined tasks for my father—but let me quickly give you my elevator pitch as to why I’m exactly the right person for that job.”
Bellamy looks down at his watch and returns to me with a look that says, “Make it fast.”
“I realize I don’t have any formal football experience on my résumé, but I’ve got the equivalent of probably five years’ coaching experience, thanks to all the years I assisted my father with his players at Ohio State, and also all the years I helped put my two brothers through their drills. I’m also a whiz with helping players learn their playbooks and study film, too. So much so, Coach Martinez let me help him with his linebackers when I was in high school. Even after I went away to college and then to MIT, Coach Martinez and my father both always invited me to assist them during preseason camp before it was time for me to head back to school. So, I’ve amassed quite a bit of experience with—”