A text from my best friend, Daisy, pops onto my computer screen, drawing my attention once again. And since Dad is still going through his planned opening remarks, it’s perfect timing for me to engage with her.
Daisy: Have you met any of the players yet? I’m dying to see photos!
Me: Not yet. Training camp kicks off in a half hour, so I’m still sitting in a boring meeting. And when camp starts, Iprobably won’t meet all of them right away. My supposed job isn’t even a real job, remember?
Daisy: I thought you said you’re gonna be a coach?
Me: The assistant to Dad’s assistant linebacker coach, if I’m lucky. And not right away. But that’s not even a sure thing. Realistically, I don’t think I could weasel my way into getting to do that until the third and final week of training camp, if at all. Until then, I’m just going to be Dad’s shadow and girl Friday, basically.
Daisy: Knowing you, there’s no way it’ll take that long. The Chelsea Parker I know and love will make things happen in record speed.
Me: Aw, thanks, Boo. Fingers crossed you’re right.
As my bestie knows, and my father, too, assisting the assistant linebacker coach at training camp before the preseason starts in three weeks isn’t my ultimate career objective. Not even close. But it’s a start. Ultimately, I’m aiming for a job in operations, not in coaching. But getting an entry-level operations job of any sort in the NFL, when I’ve got only college and grad school on my résumé, isn’t going to happen. So, I’m angling to get some official coaching experience under my belt, which I’ll then use to get my foot in the door at the lowest levels, which I’m then hoping will eventually lead to a job in the analytics department of an NFL team, which hopefully will then one day lead to me accomplishing my ultimate career goal: being the first female head of analytics in the NFL. Obviously, my ultimate goal is a huge mountain to climb—not to mention, it’s one I can’t climb at the Mastodons, given Walker Bellamy’s resistance to change—but it’s a mountain I’m determined to conquer. And eventually worming my way onto the linebacker coaching staff during training camp is the first step toward that lofty goal.
Daisy: I’m so jealous you’re going to be hanging out with hotNFL players as your actual job every day. Going into work is going to be like a kid going into a candy shop. The only question is which candy bar you’ll choose to put into your mouth!
My jaw physically hangs open and my cheeks flush hot at her raunchy text.
Me: OMG, Daisy. I’m an employee who works directly for the head coach. I can’t even notice if any of the players are hot, let alone put any of them into my mouth.
Daisy: Live a little, babe.
Me: I’d rather die than embarrass myself and my father like that.
Daisy: I thought you said you’re so low on the org chart, you’re not even on it, so who’d even notice, anyway?
I did tell her that—but in the context of me complaining that I couldn’t get a single interview in the NFL out of grad school. Hence, the reason I leaped at the nebulous, nepo-baby job my father offered me to get me in the door here, even though the job description was basically “I’m not sure yet, but I’m sure we’ll figure out something for you to do.”
Me: That’s true, but this is a stepping stone for me, remember? And nobody will take me seriously here if they see me flirting with any players. Also, my father would cut or bench any player who tried to hit on me, and I wouldn’t want that on my conscience.
Daisy: Womp womp. Well, at least send me photos of the hottest players in their tight little pants so I can live vicariously through you.
Me: Sorry, no phones allowed during practices.
“… which is why we snapped him up at the last minute,” Mr. Bellamy says at the table. And I suddenly realize I’ve missed something big while focusing on my conversation with Daisy.
Me: Gotta go, girlie. They’re talking about something important now. XO.
Daisy: Go give ’em hell, Coach!
I heart Daisy’s text and turn my full attention to what’s being said at the large table across the room.
“I don’t have high hopes for the guy,” Bellamy says. “But I figured it wouldn’t hurt to take a flier on him, under the circumstances. We had a couple spots left, so why not?”
Clearly, there’s been some last-minute wheeling and dealing, which isn’t uncommon at all. NFL teams can have up to ninety players on their training-camp rosters, a number that ultimately gets whittled down to fifty-three before the actual season starts following three weeks of preseason games, so there’s often some initial wiggle room to take a chance on a few long shots and unsigned free agents. In football, one team’s discard can be another’s easy pickup, depending on the needs of the team and the player’s position, so the league often feels like one giant game of musical chairs.
Bellamy says, “Thanks again for humoring me on this one, Coach.”
Dad leans back in his chair. “Frankly, I don’t have high hopes about him, either, given his recent track record. But you made a great point about him possibly being leverage with Moriarty. And I definitely want to get Moriarty into camp as soon as possible.”
Okay, I get what’s happening now. The team’s superstar edge rusher—a first-round draft pick/Pro Bowler named Jacob Moriarty is currently playing hardball in the negotiations for his contract renewal—so they’re bringing in someone who plays Moriarty’s same position as a negotiating ploy. Someone who’ll hopefully make Moriarty believe he’s maybe not quite as indispensable and irreplaceable as previously thought.
Wow. This guy they snapped up must be pretty damned good if he’d cause Moriarty a moment’s anxiety about losing his spot. And yet, both Bellamy and Dad have already said they don’t have high hopes for this last-minute addition to the training camp roster. So what gives?
“What’s the scouting report on him?” one of the position coaches asks.
Jesus God.Would it kill someone tonamethis new player coming to training camp at the last minute? He must be an edge rusher like Moriarty if they’ve tapped him to make Moriarty sweat. But who?
