“I’m in!” says Sarah. A chorus from other ladies indicates that five others want to join, including Amari, our starting point guard.
In the WNBA, we have one or two days off in between games so players can enjoy themselves afterward, within reason. They cluster home and away games too, which helps. We have another home game next.
A handful of the ladies decline, including Katrina. Some have family here, so it makes sense they have to skip it.
“Parker, you better come,” Sarah says. “We need to celebrate your first official game.”
I’m so down. “Definitely. But I only have sweats with me. I can go home and meet you?”
“Nah,” Marisa replies. “I have spare outfits here, and we’re only an inch apart in height. I got you.”
“That’s my little fashionista,” Wendy says affectionately.
“All right, do your worst,” I say with a chuckle.
“Oh, this is going to be thebestyou’ve ever looked, Avery.”
9
RAWLEY
“We made it to the end,” the guy next to me huffs out as one of the Waves’ coaches dismisses us from our final day of rookie minicamp.
It’s been nonstop for three days, although most of us here welcomed the activity, ready to get our NFL careers in gear even though it’s only May. Each day, we’ve jumped around from meetings, to fitness tests, to film study, to walk-throughs of on-field plays.
With almost fifty guys here, it’s intense meeting so many new people. The camp not only includes those of us who were drafted, but also undrafted free agents and others who were invited.
All of us will be fighting with the returning players and other experienced free agents as the preseason goes on for only fifty-three final roster spots.
Brutal.I’m not necessarily worried about surviving the cut myself, but it’s weird to start making friends with no clue if they’ll be around for any length of time.
Still, I’ve fallen into a friendship of sorts with two fellow rookie wideouts from D1 programs, Chance and Ty. In turn, Tyhas introduced us to Nate, a rookie running back who played at the same school as him. All three of them left their junior year like me, hoping to make the NFL their career.
Nate’s the most outgoing, and organizes what he calls a “rookie boys’ night” as we wrap up the final day.
“Let’s get dinner somewhere and then go to this place I heard about, Eclypse. Blow off some steam.”
Eclypse is apparently a nightclub where a lot of the local athletes frequent. No surprise that my siblings have not taken me there during my previous visits, but it’ll be nice to get out with these guys.
Our first team-wide OTA (organized team activity) isn’t for two more weeks, so there’s also no harm in having a little fun tonight.
“Sounds good to me,” I say as we finalize plans to meet up after stopping home to get changed for a night out.
When we enter the club five hours later, the music is cranking, but it’s still a little early for things to be really raucous.
I lead the guys to the VIP section, where a host recognizes me.
“Hey, Mr. Battle, great to have you here. You can grab that booth if you want. I’ll send someone to take your drink orders.”
“This is the lifeeee,” Nate says as we pile in.
In less than a minute, a server appears. “What can I get you all?”
“I’m sticking to beer,” Nate says. “Bud light?”
“Same please,” Ty says next.
“Can I have a Heineken?” Chance asks her. “Rawley?”
