He smirks. “Perfection.”
True enough, and with Roman as my receiver, we have a shot at pulling this off, but it won’t matter if I can’t get my left arm to go the distance.
Coach called me in for an emergency meeting. I dropped E off on the way but Roman decided to tag along. Nosy bastard. The team doctor took it upon himself to inform our coach of a recent injury. Fucking snitch. If I wanted Coach to know about my shoulder, I would have told him myself.
“You could always sit this next one out,” Rome offers, but I shake my head.
“You know I can’t.” Our second string quarterback—Deacon Hunt—is a freshman without any experience playing at this level. The guy is green. He came from a small school in the middle of nowhere and while he has a great arm, he buckles under pressure. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t care. The point of bringing him on board is to train with him, get him where he needs to be so that by the time I graduate next year, he’s ready and can lead the team. He’s got potential and he needs the field time if he’s going to grow, but next week we have scouts coming and they’re expecting me to play.
If word gets out I’m injured and won’t be on the field, there's a chance some of the scouts, maybe all, won’t show. I could care less if anyone sees me play, but the other guys on the team, they need as many opportunities as they can get to shine so they have a shot at going pro. I won’t be the reason they lose that.
“Let’s go again,” I tell Roman and he nods, getting into position, but before he starts, a voice from the sidelines draws our attention.
“Price!” Coach yells. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
I grind my teeth together and wait as he stalks across the field like a bull. Barely six feet and thick around the middle, it’s been a hot minute since the man was in his prime, but he still has no problem going toe to toe with any one of us. When he’s within earshot without me needing to yell, I tell him, “Practicing, Coach.”
“Practicing what, exactly? I gave you explicit orders to rest and—”
“I’m not throwing with my right,” I tell him. “I’m using my left. I’ll be good in time for next week's game.” I have to be.
His brows pull together and I know he wants to fight me on it, but he’s aware of the situation we’re in just as much as I am.
“Repetitive motion tendonitis is no joke, son. If you don’t take care of that arm, you can end your career before it ever starts.”
“And if I don’t play in next week's game, the guys on my team may find themselves in the same boat.”
He takes off his red Suncrest U baseball cap and shakes his head. “They’re not your responsibility. There will be more scouts, more opportunities—”
“For Davis and Elliot?” I ask, cutting him off. “They’re seniors. They won’t have many more chances like this.” I know it. He knows it. Hell, even the guys know it, which is why so much is riding on this game. Elliot’s a defensive tackle and Davis is a defensive end and they’re both good. Better than good. But that won’t matter if no one sees them play. They transferred in as seniors from smaller schools hoping to get some face time with scouts, but they’re no-name players. Scouts aren’t coming to watch them because they've never heard of them. Their best shot is to kill it on the field and have one of the already scheduled scouts recognize their potential and invite them to the NFL Scouting Combine.
Coach mutters under his breath before rubbing his jaw. “How's your right arm feel when you throw with your left?”
It twinges a bit, but I’m not telling him that. “No pain. It’s all good.”
He considers me for a moment. “What’s your range?”
“So far, fifty-two yards,” Roman answers for me.
Coach works his jaw. “How long have you been practicing?”
“Since we got out.” If I had to guess, that was maybe an hour ago.
He nods to himself. “Alright. We’ll try it your way. I want you out of training and practice for the next three days to rest.”
I open my mouth to argue. No way can I take three days off if I’m going to get where we need me to be. We’re playing Rydeville U. They’re a solid team, and while I’ve always forced myself to throw with both arms, I’m right handed. Throwing consistently with my left isn’t a cakewalk for me. I need the practice. “Coach—”
“Three days!” He waves three fingers in my face as if I need a visual. “After that, you throw and you do cardio. That’s it. No weights and nothing that can strain your right shoulder. You practice with your left arm and only your left arm. I catch you so much as tossing a towel with your right and I’ll bench you. Understood?”
I grit my teeth but nod. I know a losing battle when I see one. Coach is an alright guy. He puts the players' health and well-being first so I have no doubt he’ll bench me, even if it means we lose next week's game.
“Good. If this is day one for you and you’re already at fifty-two yards, you’re ahead of Hunt. We’ll make this work. But, if you have a bad performance next week, you might screw your own chances of being drafted early and some of these guys might even decide to look you over next year when the time comes. You prepared to take that risk?”
I nod. Football after college isn’t in the cards for me. No matter how bad I may want it. My parents would never stand for it, and despite what some might believe, my parents do in fact have both the money and the means to ensure I go down the path they’ve carved out for me. This isn’t one of those scenarios where I can call their bluff.
Sheridan Peretti Price and Richard Price have enough clout that they’ve landed themselves on the Business Insiders top ten most influential businesses in the United States six years running. As the founders of Peretti and Price, a multi-billion dollar tech company, they rub elbows with everyone from CEOs to celebrities and grossed over one hundred and eighty-two billion dollars last year alone. Yes, billion. Not million.
The amount of money my parents would need to throw around to ensure no team picked me up is barely a drop in the bucket to them. So no, I’m not worried about fucking up my own chance. I never had a real one to begin with. “It’s worth the risk, Coach.”
