"Mike and those boys are going to the championship for sure," my father interjects. "There's no stopping them. They've got their division sewed up already."
My parents love me and they love my brother. There is no doubt about that. I know that parents repeatedly say that they don't have favorites when it comes to their children, but for some reason I think my father has a soft spot for Michael. He's much harder on me and always has been.
"Michael did have an awesome game today, but the season just started. I feel it in my gut that Saint is going to make things happen for his team this year too. It's such a toss up right now. No one team dominates in his conference," my mother says with a degree of confidence that I don't necessarily share.
My mother is just as much a football fanatic as the men in my family. She has always supported and encouraged mine and Michael's dreams to become professional football players. Yet unlike my dad and uncle, she always made sure that the two of us had as much of a healthy balance as she could create for us.
Making sure we went to all school dances, making sure we joined at least one other extracurricular club when we were in school (I did ski club), and making sure she carved out time for us to concentrate on our studies and some public service activities. Athletics has always been the number one priority for my father, but a well-rounded life is very important to my mother. If only they made more women like my mom.
"That's so true," my aunt adds while my uncle stands there quietly. His lack of a response speaks volumes. He's either disappointed in me or for me. I'm not really sure which, but it bugs me just the same.
"Stop filling the kid's head with fantasies. They still haven't surrounded him with good enough players yet. It's not going to happen this year. What he needs to be thinking about is what he's going to do with his free agency status next year. He needs to get out of New York."
"New York sucks!" Jake interjects.
"Jakie!" My mother scolds as if Jake is still five years old and doesn't know any better. What he really needs is a good smack upside his head.
"Ma, stop babying the brat."
Jake gives me the evil eye. I bend over and whisper something to him.
"You want to go snowboarding right?"
His eyes pop up and he rapidly nods yes.
"Then stop talking crap about my team. Got it?"
He nods again.
"Saint, what's all this your mother tells me about you meeting with a business management firm?"
I tell my mother everything, so there was no need to tell my father that I've met or worse actually signed on the dotted line with a business management firm. I knew she'd save me the trouble by telling him herself.
"Yeah, I took a meeting."
"You got a problem with the way I'm managing your money? Stevensons have never let outsiders handle our money."
"I'm a franchise quarterback with no endorsements, Dad."
"You've got Lucky Sports."
"Okay so let me rephrase that. Lucrative endorsements."
"Well that's an agent's job."
Funny how that works. His brother, my uncle is my agent.
"Exactly." I deadpan and look straight at my uncle.
"It's hard to get you the elite endorsements right now, Saint. I've explained that to you a million times," my uncle says defensively.
"I'm sorry son, but your uncle is right. You've got to win some more games before you get the kind of big deals you're looking for."
"If there's a chance that this management team can get me a good endorsement without a winning record being a requirement, then I want to try. It's worth signing to them for a simple twelve month commitment. If they don't get me anything good within that time then they probably won't be able to at all, and I'll leave."
"So are you telling me that you've signed already?" My father raises his voice.
"Ooh, Grandpop is going to kick your ass," Jake says without even looking up from the video game that he's playing on his phone.
