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I know what that locker room looks like because I remember Houston before every mistake required someone to absorb the blame. I remember veterans staying after practice to help rookies recognize protections and players giving up recovery time because one man being unprepared endangered all of us. I also remember watching those habits disappear while I stood in the center of the room wearing a captain’s patch that no longer seemed to mean anything.
“Knowing what it looks like doesn’t stop it from falling apart.”
“No, but it means you’ll recognize what’s being lost before most men do.”
He takes the worst thing I’ve witnessed in football and offers it back as proof that I might still be useful to someone. The only thing I hear is that I failed to hold my team together once they stopped believing in me.
“I know you’ve watched my film and must know the problems you traded for.”
He knows exactly what Charlotte traded for and still sounds like the deal was something he wanted. I can’t decide whether that makes him optimistic or reckless.
“I do, and nothing will be handed to you in Charlotte. You’ll put in the work to earn your spot just like everyone else.”
Charlotte did not trade for the quarterback whose name once made starting decisions unnecessary. They traded for the possibility that enough of him remains to win a job from a man who has probably spent years waiting for his own chance.
“When do you need me there?”
“Friday would be best. That gives us time to handle the press conference and get you settled before camp.”
“I’m not doing a press conference. I have nothing to say.”
The refusal comes out sharper than it should, but he doesn’t remind me that I now represent his organization. He lets the silence expose what the argument is really about. I don’t know how to stand beside him and thank Charlotte for believing in me without admitting Houston stopped. I have no intention of promising the best football of my career when I’m no longer certain that version of me survived the last two seasons.
“You don’t have to know what the rest of your career looks like by Friday. You only have to show up and let me take care of the rest.”
The simplicity of his statement unsettles me more than any other demand would. Showing up means walking into a locker room where every man will know what my arrival costs them. It means allowing Coach Quinn to place value on parts of me I’ve never learned how to separate from winning.
“I’ll be there Friday.”
“Good. Someone will send you information about hotels and temporary housing near the facility. Families tend to prefer to use the hotel it during camp, so the staff knows how to leave people alone.”
“I can arrange my own place to stay.”
“I know.” He doesn’t explain why I should accept it, and somehow that makes it harder to refuse. “We’ll see you Friday, Jubal.”
The line goes quiet before I decide whether to thank him as I stare at the call duration as though the numbers might explain what just happened. Coach Quinn had every opportunity to sell me the same future every team offers when it needs a player to believe the next uniform can erase what happened in the last one. Instead, he spoke as though Charlotte wanted something from me that couldn’t be measured by the throws I missed or the draft pick Houston accepted.
My phone vibrates before I can decide whether that should feel like relief.
CHARLOTTE TAKES DESPERATE SWING ON AGING QUARTERBACK
The notification flashes across my screen with a headline written by someone who has already decided how this ends. I swipe it away, but another appears immediately on the muted television screen across the room.
FROM FRANCHISE FACE TO TRADE BAIT: WHAT HAPPENED TO JUBAL DUVALL?
My face is frozen beside two analysts waiting to take turns explaining. I should switch it off before they begin, but my thumb finds the remote and raises the volume instead.
“—a conditional fourth-round pick,” the man behind the desk says as the graphic changes beneath him. “That could become a third if Duvall meets the playing-time incentives, but Houston protected itself here. Charlotte is assuming the risk, believing they’ve found their long-term answer.”
In a matter of moments, he’s reduced the trade to the same question I’ve been trying not to ask since Graham called. Coach Quinn says I have something valuable to give Charlotte. According to the media, neither organization believes it.
My phone rings while the analyst replays an interception from last season. Graham’s name fills the screen, and I answer before he can leave another message I won’t listen to.
“I assume Quinn called.”
“Yeah. He wants me there on Friday.”
“That’s what they told me. We need to talk through the logistics before you make arrangements on your own.”
