Font Size:  

Chapter 1

Being drafted by an NFL team was the realization of a goal Oliver Saint had set for himself since childhood. For the handsome, muscular college junior, the draft was the beginning of becoming either a player in the NFL or a fireman, following his father, brother, uncles and cousins into firefighting. Although he had the greatest respect for the job, he just couldn’t see himself in a life of service to his fellow man. He wanted the accolades of a professional sports career.

The prologue to the lifetime dream of Oliver’s began when his father asked if he wanted to play Pop Warner tackle football at age five. His mother immediately protested.

“It’s too dangerous,” Clare Saint argued. “Get him in flag football.”

“He’s too big to play flag,” Charlie Saint explained. “On the growth charts, he’s the size of a seven-year-old. Besides that, have you seen him play with his friends? It’s what he wants.”

“He’s five years old, Charlie. Get real,” she cried. “You’re responsible if he gets hurt.”

“Accepted.”

He hadn’t gotten hurt during those elementary school years, either, and in time, Clare was behind him one hundred percent as his biggest fan. First playing Pop Warner, then high school (Cathedral Catholic) and finally at San Diego State, Oliver just wanted to play football.

During winter break of his college junior year, Clare started badgering him. “Are you going to declare for the draft?”

He couldn’t have an agent as long as he was still playing college football, and he’d have to petition the powers that be to enter the draft early.

“If I do, you know I can’t play college football again. You know I’ll have to drop out of school if I get picked.”

“I know that. You can finish online after you’re picked. So are you, or are you not?”

“I am,” he said, sitting on the couch in the family den, watching, what else, football.

“Well, you have exactly two weeks. The deadline is January 14.”

Glancing over at his father, who tried not to roll his eyes, Oliver nodded at her. “Okay, Mom.”

Girlfriend Joanne—he had his head in her lap, so he could feel her thighs tense up—wasn’t as supportive as Mom.

“It’s bad enough I have to plan our time together around practice and games,” she cried. “Now I’ll never see you.”

“I’ll make it a priority,” he said, sitting up when she pushed his head off her.

“What if a team on the other side of the country picks you?”

“I won’t accept.”

“Wait a minute,” Charlie said, leaning forward. “You’re not serious.”

Caught in the middle, Oliver looked from Joanne to his father and over to his mother, who stood with a wooden spoon in her hand. “Ma, you look like you’re ready to spank me with that thing.”

“After spending the past sixteen years devotingmylife toyourfootball games, you’d better make football your priority. No offense, Joanne.”

“I guess I can move to wherever he’s going.”

“Don’t get carried away,” Oliver said. “I haven’t been picked yet.”

He wasn’t sure he wanted that kind of commitment with Joanne. Move across the country so they could be together? No. He wanted the full experience of living in his own apartment in a strange city. That didn’t include domesticity.

“You’ll get picked,” Charlie said. “Your name is on every list that’s been published for the past six months. Your mother has a scrapbook.”

“No way,” Oliver said, pleased.

“Yes way,” Clare said. “I even do screenshots of tweets.” She dug for her phone. “Here’s one I posted on Instagram yesterday.”

“Ma, knock it off.” But he laughed as she brought her phone over to him, pointing, reading out loud.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
Articles you may like