Page 1 of Roughing the Player
Chapter 1
Brock
San Diego
“I’M GETTING TRADED?” I practically choke the life out of my cell phone, I’m clutching it so hard.
“To the Chicago Outlaws.” My agent, Marty Chenovsky, jabbers on as if he hasn’t dropped a major bomb on me.
“The fuck I am.” Last season after San Diego’s way overrated starting quarterback had gone down with a career-ending injury, I’d stepped in and taken San Diego all the way to the playoffs. Given my stellar performance, I’d expected to get the starting position. Instead, the bastards are trading me to Chicago?
“They need a backup quarterback.”
“Why? The Outlaws have that kid, Pedro Santiago.”
“Not anymore, they don’t. They’re trading him for you. He’s coming to San Diego.”
What???!!! “As their backup?”
“As their number one.”
“What the hell?” My job’s being handed to some wet-behind-the-ears kid barely a couple of years out of college? That’s so not right. “He doesn’t have my arm or experience.”
“But he has God on his side.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Marty clears his throat. “The new San Diego Missionaries owner has a Christian streak in him a mile wide, and Pedro? Well, he never misses church on Sundays, even when he plays out of town.”
“And the last time I saw the inside of a sanctuary was when I was baptized.” The only reason my parents had done that much was because their country club set expected it of them. Neither had given a damn about religion.
“It’s more than that. Your lifestyle doesn’t sit right with him.”
My lifestyle. Chicks and wild parties, he means. “We almost made it to the Super Bowl.”
“He thinks Pedro can get the team there as well.”
“Yeah. Right. Good luck with that.” Pedro Santiago may have a golden arm, but can he play hurt? When he subbed for Ty Matthews for a couple of games this season, the Chicago front line kept defenders off him. He could be a pansy for all the San Diego owner knows.
“I know it’s short notice, but Chicago wants you there tomorrow. They already started training camp.”
The Outlaws’ rigorous camp is one of the reasons they won the Lombardi trophy last year. Still, I’m expected to jump-to just because they say so? The hell with that. I have things planned for this week.
Besides, I hate the fucking cold. My entire career I’ve played for warm weather teams. Clemson, the Florida Manatees. Three years into my NFL career, I’d been traded to San Diego. With its perfect weather and year-round mild temperatures, never mind all the bikini honeys on the beach, it had made this southern boy’s heart happy. No way am I trading that for the frozen tundra of Chicago. “I’m not going.”
“Well, guess you can always quit, or sit out a year.”
He has me by the short hairs, and the bastard knows it. I’ve played football my whole life. Love it too much to give it up. “Not doing that.”
“Well, then, you have no choice.” He gives me a moment to let me come to terms with it. “I know this is not what you wanted. But they need a quality backup, and that’s you.”
This last season I’d loved the thrill of game day, the roar of the crowd. Hell, I hadn’t even minded the aches and pains because I was their starting quarterback. I won’t get that chance with Chicago. “Like I’d get to play.”
“Actually, you will. For the entire season.”
What’s he talking about? I’m good, really good. But Chicago has one of the league’s best quarterbacks in Ty Mathews. Last season, he took them all the way to the Super Bowl and won. Makes no sense they’d drop him for me. “How’s that?”
“This hasn’t been released to the press yet. They’re waiting until you get to Chicago to make the announcement. But Ty Mathews needs shoulder surgery, and he’ll be out for the entire season. That’s why they want you. They know you can take them to the playoffs.”
