“Not at all,” Jackson replied. “It’s a common stipulation for veteran players such as Mr. Graham. Barring injury, my client is willing to stay the full three years. However, in the case of injury, this creates a possible exit route for both Fin and the Coopers.”
Vee nodded.
The discussion continued, Royce Beasley and Jackson doing most of the talking.
The original contract was one million dollars for one year. This revised contract was four million dollars per year for three years. There was also a signing bonus of three million dollars and the promise of a performance bonus contingent upon the amount of playing time I received. The increased salary was the reason for Simpson’s dismissal.
No one disputed the first-string quarterback Troy Dennison’s ability. This early in his career, there werewarranted comparisons to the likes of Tom Brady or Peyton Manning. With a first-string quarterback like Dennison, Jackson didn’t want me in third place.
When it seemed like both sides were satisfied, Mr. Hubbard spoke. “Welcome officially to the Coopers, Mr. Graham.”
“Please call me Fin, Mr. Hubbard.”
“Fin, we can’t wait to see what you can do for us and what we can do for you.”
I leaned back. “I’m originally from Kentucky, Bowling Green to be exact.” My gaze momentarily went to Vee. This wasn’t news to her. She’d visited my parents in Bowling Green. “I’m looking forward to returning to the Bluegrass state and being closer to my family.”
A knock came from the door. It opened and Coach Tilson and Andrew Pratt stepped inside.
“I’m sorry we couldn’t be here sooner,” Coach Tilson said, his gaze meeting Reid’s. “Do we have our new number two?”
“We do,” Reid announced.
Pratt turned to me. “Fin, stop by my office after your position meeting. Noah and I want to talk to you about specifics. We only have one more preseason game before the real season starts. Now that you’re officially playing behind Dennison, we need you up-to-date on every play.”
Noah Garcia was the quarterback coach. “I’ll be there, Coach.”
Pratt leaned between Grant and Vee and whispered something. While Grant appeared unaffected, Vee’s complexion paled. He patted her shoulder.
“I’ll be there,” she said.
What in the fuck was going on behind the scenes with this organization?
CHAPTER 10
Vee
Rubbing my temples, I couldn’t ignore the thumping in my head. If asked, I’d say that I was certain my head was about to explode. Opening my water bottle, I took a long swig. The playbook in front of me was akin to a foreign language. Dad was right. Football operations was the part of our franchise I needed to understand at a higher level.
Talk to me about the ROI on television ads that showcased our mascot versus those that showed fans in the stadium or players on the field. Ask me how long it took to change the field from artificial turf to a trade show with over three hundred exhibitions. Howmany workers per hour to accomplish an end game? I could rattle off the numbers without so much as a second thought. Our ticket sales were a case study in football sales. I spent an untold amount of time comparing prices throughout the NFL.
Even with that knowledge base, the words before me were maddening.
I knew the positions both offense and defense, eleven players on the field per side. I’d watched enough games to understand what each position was supposed to accomplish, and which defensive player was responsible for what offensive player. However, after the meeting with Fin, I did as Andrew Pratt asked and made my way into the unknown, the offices in football operation.
Our players were in various places around Maker’s Mark Football Center. The athletic trainers were already assessing yesterday’s injuries. The coaches met first with the entire team to discuss what they learned from films. Then the players had position meetings, talking with their specific coaches for each position. Fin and Troy Dennison would be in the quarterback discussion.
I shook my head, thinking about Simpson. He’d been with the Coopers for three years. Correction, this would have been his third year. Now, he was gone, Griffin Graham in his place.
When I was at the University of Kentucky, I stoodon the sidelines during practices and games. I listened to the play calling but never tried to understand it. The basics were ingrained. Making sense of the unknown was the assignment Coach Pratt gave me—my homework, it could be said.
It was nearly five o’clock, and I’d been studying the offensive playbook I was given and had half of a notebook filled with notes. In two days—Wednesday morning—Pratt wanted me on the sidelines for the first practice session in preparation for next Sunday’s game. That gave me roughly thirty-six hours to make heads or tails out of this foreign language.
The play before me read:Green Rt Slot ‘Z’ Rt. 96 Boss, On two, On two, ready break.
Thirty-six hours wouldn’t be enough.
I reached for my cell phone and suddenly realized I’d turned off the volume for the first meeting of the day and hadn’t checked it since. There were two missed calls and three text messages from Preston.
