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"Anderson, come to my office," Coach calls out.
I smile as I walk to the coach's office, allowing others to think it's no big deal, but to be honest, I'm a little concerned. I've been with the Alabama Hurtsboro Hummingbird's since I was drafted as the number one pick in 2018. Though the first three seasons were great, with us winning our first Super Bowl in 2020, the last two seasons have not been my best.
Though I currently have one of the highest stats for QB’s in the NFL, with over fourteen thousand passing yards, almost four thousand rushing yards, sixty-two touchdowns, and only five interceptions.
This last draft, they drafted another quarterback, Jason McHenry, and the kid is itching to get on the field and prove himself. I see a lot of myself in him, and though I may be twenty-seven and tired, I'm not ready to give up my start yet. Maybe it's the cocky young kid still inside me, but I know how hard I worked to get to the place that I am at. I enjoy the smell of the astro turf on the field, the feel of the pigskin ball in my hand, and the cheers from the fans in the stands.
There is nothing like a Sunday night prime game, with the lights on in the stadium. The energy from the crowd is electric, and you feel as if the whole world is cheering you on as much as they are rooting against you. The feeling is invigorating as it is daunting.
I walk into the coach's office, he immediately says, "Close the door."
I do and then sit down in the chair he is pointing to, "What’s going on, coach?"
“How are you feeling about this season?”
“I feel good, Coach. No lingering issues from the concussions. I think this is going to be a great season.”
"I want to talk to you about that. I’m glad you're doing better, however I would feel better if you help train McHenry," he starts out.
I look at Coach, knowing there is more he wants to say.
"I want you to help build him up. He's got natural talent, but he is still raw. I need him ready to pick up, should anything happen. God willing, it doesn't, but with the defensive linebackers on the other teams seeming to target Quarterbacks, and the fact that you’ve already had two concussions last season, I need to ensure we are covered, should anything happen this season."
"I understand, Coach. I will help him whenever I can. Have you spoken to Coach Star?"
"Yeah, and he will be training all the quarterbacks as usual, but we are going to need your help and expertise with the rookie."
"I get it, Coach," I say, not really liking what I'm hearing, but I know I have no room to argue.
"Will, you will always be our starter as long as you are here, but this team needs to know that if the inevitable should happen they can count on someone else to step in and pick up where your leadership left off. McHenry reminds me of the kid you were when we drafted you."
"I was thinking the same thing, Coach. He has a gift for sure and will make a hell of a quarterback in his career. I will work with him before camp starts, and we will see what he has to offer then," I tell Coach.
He nods, then gets back to the roster, while I get up and leave the office.
Brick Siler, my center, walks up to me, "Everything good, man?” he asks, sounding concerned.
"Yeah, all is good. Coach wanted to talk about training.”
"Are you still going to be the starting quarterback?" he whispers as he looks over at McHenry.
"I don’t know,” I tell him honestly. “Coach says I’ll always be the starter as long as I’m here, but he wants me to train the rookie to be able to take my position, should the possibility of me going down happens," I say, looking him in the eyes.
"Oh," he says, and nothing else.
"McHenry," I call out, not waiting for an answer, " come with me."
I walk out of the locker room and toward the field. I can hear McHenry walking up behind me, probably wondering what is going on.
I remember taking in a few of his games after catching some highlights. He was the starting quarterback at my alma mater, and the sports commentators used to say he could be on par to me. Though he wasn't the first draft pick, he was still picked in the first round.
We get to the field, and I run through some drills with him. The kid is young, and has a lot to learn, but I can see the potential in him.
“You got a good arm, kid. Your throws are accurate, but you’re holding back. You need to learn to maneuver around the pocket,” I tell him.
“I’m nervous and awe struck,” he tells me.
“I get it, but I’m no different than anyone else.”
