Sacked (The Alpha Ballers#2)

by Lucy Snow

  As I stood back up I realized there was no way a girl like this would be waiting for me when the season ended. As beautiful and interesting as Charlotte? These kinds of girls don’t stay single for 5 months straight unless they want to, especially not in a new town, meeting all sorts of men at every turn.

  Nah, this was goodbye for us. It sucked and I didn’t want it to be the case, but playing professional football was the most important thing in my life, and I had a small opportunity to make a go of it and show the team, the league, and the country what I could do.

  That was all that mattered, even when I wished it didn’t.

  I sighed out loud and turned away from Charlotte, walking steadily toward the door. I opened it softly, and took one look back at her before I left, holding the door till it closed without a sound before I found the exit and got into my car.

  I shivered a little bit as I got into my car, holding my hands together and breathing into them before getting in. It was gonna be a sunny and warm day, but right now we had the sun part, not so much the warm part.

  The car warmed up quickly, though - all that money had to go for something, and soon I was driving at speed back toward the facility. Not too much traffic yet, people moving in and out trying to get to work and beat rush hour, and things got even better as I got closer to Foxboro.

  I pulled into the facility, past the assigned parking spots for the front office, toward the players’ garage. There had originally been assigned spots in the players garage, but now they only made two distinctions - blank and ‘rookie.’ It felt really good to be able to park in the blank spots now, even if I occasionally had to fight for a spot.

  When I pulled in I had about 30 minutes before my turn at the podium was scheduled to start. The first thing Coach Armstrong had made sure of when he arrived was that events and meetings at the Patriots facility would always begin exactly on time. If you were late to something you were supposed to be at, no matter if you were the starting quarterback, leader of the defense, or the greenest of rookies, you were sent home that day, and the next day you had to give the entire team a heartfelt apology.

  That was how things worked around here now - personal responsibility. Some players couldn’t handle it - they were too wrapped up in living the glamorous lifestyle of a pro football player. Those players didn’t spend too much time in a Patriots uniform, and enjoyed themselves a whole lot more wearing another team’s colors.

  But for a small number of players, that kind of strict rigidity made the game that much more exciting. I was one of those players.

  I walked into the facility and quickly went to my room to grab a quick shower. The room was just as I’d left it, which made sense, because now that training camp was over, everyone else on the team had moved out. I was the only player still living at the facility, and I liked it that way.

  Though I did miss my short term roommate, Drake Rollins. He and I hadn’t really gotten off on the right foot. Drake had come to the Patriots after falling out of the draft this year due to character concerns and off the field issues. Coach Armstrong had taken a flyer on him and Drake had shown up to training camp sure that he was the greatest receiver on Earth.

  It had taken just a couple weeks for him to realize that we didn’t fuck around at the Patriots, and that he needed to buckle down and get to work if he wanted to make it as a pro player.

  And then, to my astonishment, Drake had done just that. He’d buried his head in the playbook, attended every single meeting, worked hard on the field and in the weight room, and now he was one of my favorite receivers.

  We’d started getting along really well there near the end of training camp, but just as I was starting to look forward to having a roommate who was as into focusing on football as I was, Drake had to go and get himself a girlfriend. Lily Pearson, the Boston Globe writer assigned to cover his story as he tried to make the Patriots, and Drake had fallen in love.

  They’d even moved in together! I couldn’t begrudge the guy that, even I would have done the same thing under the circumstances. If anything, I was a little jealous of him. They looked so happy together and Drake was just a much more complete person now that he had Lily in his life.

  He’d mentioned to me, totally off the record, that he was planning on proposing some time soon, he just wanted to make sure that he was gonna be with the Patriots a little longer before he did so. Then he had asked me to make sure and throw him as many touchdowns as I could this season. I had laughed and just said, “Drake, if you keep catching them I’ll keep throwing them,” and that was that.

  So yeah, no roommate for me this year, just living alone in the empty player’s wing of the Patriots facility. Not too shabby, but nothing luxurious. The important part was that there weren’t any distractions.

  Feeling the hot water rain down on me was amazing. Not that I wanted to get rid of Charlotte’s smell on me, far from it, but I just really enjoyed the cleansing and centering effects of a shower. I think that was the way with all athletes. Washing oneself off was like being reborn, ready and prepared for the next thing.

  As I got out and got dressed, a little nicer than I’d normally wear, I got a heavy knock at my door. From the distinctive rhythm of the pounding, I knew exactly who it was.

  “Door’s open, Hud, come in.” It always struck me as funny that a guy that was so big and gruff was also super polite.

  Hudson Asher, Patriots linebacker, and one of my best friends on the team, opened the door and came bounding into the room, way too energetic for so early in the morning.

  “Parker! You ready for the media this morning!?” Unlike me, Hud loved talking to the media. I think it was because defensive players didn’t really get into the spotlight, but any moment Hud could get in front of the cameras he took it, and hammed it up something awful.

  Though, to be fair, he was like that all the time. Might have been part pig in a past life. “Yeah, Hud, I’m ready,” I said, letting my enthusiasm for the media show through in my tone. Unlike Hud, I had gone to the Coach Armstrong school of media relations, and preferred to stay out of the limelight even though, as the starting quarterback, it was thrust upon me whether I wanted it or not.

  As bad boys went, though, I was only a little bad. Medium bad.

  Hud came up to me and started punching me in the stomach, lightly at first, but even light for Hudson Asher was significant. “I. Said. Are. You. Ready. For. The. Media. This. Morning?” he said in between punches. “Come on, man, show me some love, the season is finally here!”

  Now that got me going. “Yeah. Fucking pumped, man, let’s go win one this year, yeah?”

  “You know it, brother. I’m right there with you. You make sure the offense got it, I’ll keep the defense on point and we’ll steamroll all the way to rings for everyone.”

  I nodded. “Good plan.” I checked my watch and the big clock on the wall. “Shit, I gotta go, I’m up in a few minutes.”

  “Right, right, ok, cool, catch me after your meetings and we’ll grab lunch.” Hud went to the door, opened it, and was halfway out before he leaned in again. “I’m so excited, man, this is gonna be a fucking awesome year. We gotta win one this time, bro.”

  “I hear you. I’ll see you in a bit.”

  “Have fun with the vultures. Catch you later.” And then he was gone. I heard him singing some random dirty song down the hall. Now that he knew I was the only one living in this wing, Hud sang a lot louder in the halls, not worried about whether the coaches or some of the more conservative and older players would hear him.

  Plus, Hud had more than decade’s worth professional football experience. As long as he didn’t break any rules or miss any meetings, and kept playing at a high level like he always did, he could do whatever the fuck he wanted around here.

  I kinda envied Hud in that way. He was pretty much a big kid just living out his dream of playing in the pros. And of course he brought the pain to whatever team was lined up against him, but when the game was over, whatever the
outcome, he was always happy-go-lucky and ready for the next thing.

  Me, though, I held on to things a little longer than I should. OK, a lot longer. Still, it worked for me. Sometimes, though, I just wished I worked a little more like Hud did.

  I got another knock on the door right then. Dawdling time was over. I crossed the room and opened the door to see a Patriots intern standing there. “Hey, Parker, press conference time, Coach Armstrong sent me to get you.”

  I nodded and went with him to the media area. The team had several rooms that were wired for media access where we held press conferences and media availabilities.

  Today everything was in the main room as we kicked off the season. “Coach is just finishing up, they’re about to announce you. Wait here a sec.”

  The intern wandered off and I stood there outside the main media room, waiting for my turn.

  “Parker!” I heard someone shout my name and I turned, a smile already on my face. I’d know that cocky voice anywhere.

  “Drake, man, good to see you. Welcome to the season.”

  Drake came up and gave me a huge hug. “Thanks, man, it’s so good to finally be here. We gonna burn the league up this year, yeah?”

  “Yeah, man, can’t wait. You better be open, like all the time.”

  Drake stepped back, almost mock offended, holding his hands out wide to his sides. Then he smiled wide, “As if the great Drake Rollins could be anything but open for business?”

  “That’s not what I heard, man, I heard Lily got you locked down pretty hard.”

  He smiled even wider, and came back in close, dropping his voice down. “No doubt, brother, but I gotta say, being locked down is the best feeling ever, when you got the right girl. I highly recommend it.”

  “That doesn’t sound like the Drake I met just a few weeks ago, asking about bringing girls into the facility after hours.”

  “I know, man, I know, but in my defense, instead of bringing the girls to our room I was just going to hers.”

  “That’s right, she had a room here too. Nice move.”

  “It’s more than that, though, dude.” He smiled wider than I had ever seen him before. “I love her, man, I can’t put it any other way. I’m totally in love with her.”

  “Just make sure she knows that.”

  “That’s my second job, man. Of course, football’s first, you know that.”

  “I hear you. Where is your better half, anyway?”

  Drake nodded to the media room. “Inside, man, she’s got a job to do too. I might get to see her after practice, but who knows.”

  “Lucky man, having your very own personal PR department and cheerleader all in one.”

  “Don’t I know it. She’s the best thing that ever happened to me.” He turned his head, “You know, right up there with you being my quarterback and everything.”

  I laughed. “Dude, no need to butter me up, I know we got a good thing going, and I won’t get jealous when you go home with Lily every night. We do good on the field, you and I, we good off the field.”

  “Always the football robot, Parker. That’s the first thing I noticed about you.”

  I nodded, taking it as a compliment.

  Drake came back in, just as the door opened and Coach Armstrong came out. “Parker, you’re up next.”

  “Sure, Coach, on my way.” I nodded to Drake.

  “That’s the thing, though, Parker,” Drake said as I pulled away to head inside. The cameras were already flashing, evidently one of the photographers could see me in the hallway.

  “Yeah?”

  “Being a football robot is cool and all, but once in a while it’s good to be a human being, you know?”

  “Solid wisdom right there from a rookie,” I said. “If Hud was here he’d already be punching you.”

  Drake held his hands up. “I know, I know, just food for thought. You helped me out more than you can know during training camp, I just wanna return the favor if I can.”

  “No worries man, you know what you gotta do.”

  “I do, I do. Now get in there before Coach Armstrong puts me on report for holding up the line.” His voice went up an octave. “Oh Lance, Lance Parker, you’re such a star!” he cooed, clearly mocking me, “Will you sign my boobs, Lance Parker?!”

  “Ugh, too much, man,” I laughed, as Drake pulled down his shirt collar and exposed his chest to me.

  “You love it. Have a good show.”

  “Thanks.”

  As soon as I stepped into the room I saw flashes all over the place as the photographers got their first official glimpse of me of the season. Of course I didn’t have my uniform or helmet on, but they’d get enough shots of me in the game or on the sidelines soon enough.

  “Hey guys, welcome to my house,” I started my press conference off with. That got a laugh. “I see most of you have been here before, let me know if I can answer any of your questions.”

  Some players like to have statements at the beginning, but I preferred not to speak when not answering a specific question - easier to keep from saying things I didn’t want getting out.

  Hands went up all over the room. I looked out at the reporters, recognizing most of them, before finding the one I wanted. “Yeah, Lily, first question.”

  Lily Pearson blushed, happy that I called on her first. It was the least I could do for her and Drake. I had had dinner with them a few nights ago and Lily had told me about some of the obstacles she’d already had to overcome while trying to make it as a female reporter in sports, especially covering football.

  “Thanks, Lance. Is it true that during the season you live here in the facility?”

  I laughed. I had known this was gonna get out, and it had come up during that dinner. Drake and Lily were incredulous, and Lily warned me that she was going to ask me that at the next media availability. I just didn’t realize it would be her first question.

  “Yeah, Lily, that is true. I’m not really the most glamorous of guys, my main focus during the season is on the team and I just want to do everything I can to help out my teammates and win a championship for New England.”

  “And having a life outside of football doesn’t enter into that equation?”

  Wow, she wasn’t gonna let me go on this one. I could see what Drake saw in her. “That’s correct, at least for now. I’m blessed to be able to play football for a living, and during the relatively short amount of time I can do that, I want to make sure I give it everything I’ve got. There’s 6-7 months a year that we don’t play, I can have a life then. Next question.”

  “A followup, please, Lance.”

  “Yes, Lily, sure, go ahead.”

  “People are calling this season a make or break year for you. That the team can get out from under your contract after this season if things don’t go as well as they hope. How would you characterize the importance this season will have for your career and the Patriots?”

  “Wow, that’s a heavy question, I could probably just answer that for the rest of this press conference. But let me at least get started. I have no idea what other people are saying about me - I try not to pay attention to any of that stuff. About my contract, all that is true.”

  I took a deep breath. “This is a critical year for me, yeah. I know that I can be a successful quarterback in this league, but this is the season I have to make that clear out on the field. If I don’t, yeah, the team can find someone, pretty easily.” I smiled. “My goal is to show them right away that there’s no need to do that. Next question.”

  The press conference went on for another 30 minutes, the reporters slinging questions at me while I tried to answer them honestly without letting them inside too much. It was a high-wire trapeze act of sorts, lots of balancing going on.

  By now, though, I was getting used to it.

  After I had thanked everyone and left the room, Coach Armstrong came up to me and pulled me aside. “Nice job, Parker.” From Coach Armstrong, that was pretty much the highest compliment.

&n
bsp; “Thanks, Coach.”

  “Quarterbacks meeting in a few. Don’t be late.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it, Coach.”

  “Oh yeah, Morris is looking for you. Said to catch him before the meeting.”

  “Yeah? Any idea what about?”

  Coach Armstrong shook his head as he turned away. As he walked down the hall, I thought I could hear him say to himself, “I don’t keep track of these things.”

  “Thanks, Coach,” and I waved to his back. Coach Armstrong’s picture appeared next to the word ‘gruff’ in the dictionary, but at the same time, almost every player that played for him loved him like a father. And even players who didn’t were respectful. Armstrong had earned that.

  I headed over to the athletic wing, eager to see what the head of staff wanted before my quarterbacks meeting. The first game was coming up soon and we had to start getting ready, installing the game plan, and figuring out how to deal with the opposing defense. The real routine of professional football started now, and I was looking forward to it. Meetings, practice, gym, game, recovery. Rinse and repeat for 17 weeks, and if you were good enough, 3-4 weeks more.

  It didn’t sound like much, but at the end of it was one of the most coveted championships in American sports. The chance to be legendary. I wanted it so bad I could almost taste it.

  But it lay at the end of a long road, one we were just at the beginning of. I didn’t see the head of Athletics around, so I went directly to his office.

  Morris was sitting at his desk. “Parker, good to see you.”

  “Thanks. Coach Armstrong said you wanted to see me?”

  “Yeah, got someone new on staff to introduce to you.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, new quarterbacks’ trainer and physical therapist. Gonna be making sure you and Lee stay on your feet between games.”

  “Sounds good, what happened to the last guy?”

  “Family stuff, he had to move back west.”

  “Ah, OK.” I couldn’t remember the last guy’s name. Once the season started I was usually so in the zone it didn’t matter who was icing me up or rubbing me down, etc. I just wanted to get back onto the field or into the film room. “Where is he?”