It’s true, those first few weeks were hectic. We lost the championship, but the other team’s offense was just too much for the Spartan defensive line. Coach was still happy with us, and we did get to play in one of the bowl games at the end of January.
But Keira and I didn’t break our stride with each other. She actually hung out with Tank and me and the other guys when we didn’t go out alone. We got to spend a lot more time together once football season officially ended. My business classes really got serious, and she was there to help me all the way with them. Oddly enough, after the last run-in I’d had with Vanessa in the dorm hallway when I’d gone to Keira’s room to study before the break made me wary of going to Keira’s dorm. But eventually Vanessa and the few other haters who seemed shocked that Keira and I were officially dating faded into the background of our lives. Vanessa wasted no snagging the captain of the basketball team, and other people were just to busy to care after a while. Plus, I think the warmer weather put everybody in a better mood.
The only dark spot on my semester was losing my uncle to his illness. But it was great to have Keira and Tank go to the funeral with me.
Summer was just as great as the spring term had been. Keira and I both got part-time summer jobs, she at the Discovery store in the mall, me Home Depot. The sex was just as awesome as it always had been, and don’t mind saying that our friendship got stronger too.
I knew that a large part of me would become reinvested in football as the start of the school year approached. I left for football camp in mid-August. When the regular semester started and Keira and I saw each other on campus again, it seemed like nothing had changed. At least not between the two of us. Schedules and classes were both at the all-time highest intensity for both of us. But we both felt confident we could handle it. We studied together when we could, and still saw each other regularly. Keira came to more of my games, even one or two of the away ones.
Even though I had been on the short list for the Heisman the previous year, it was almost unheard of for a junior to get it, especially when the other guys on the list were seniors on other teams. I felt a personal pressure to win it this year, and the itch to go pro after I graduated in the spring wasn’t just back with a vengeance—it was all-consuming. I knew I was hiding this in part from Keira, I guess as my way of trying to reassure her that my feelings wouldn’t change for her. I didn’t want to admit that they might, or that we might break up once I graduated. But I really wasn’t in a hurry to do that, or even think about it. I was doing a fair job of not obsessing about it until about the third week into the fall semester, and I had a message from Corky McDaniel, the school’s VP of Communication—as in public relations for the university, not the academic program.
Corky could either be an athlete’s best friend or their worst enemy, especially when it came to getting the attention of the scouts. For those on scholarship, it was even more important to keep up your grades, because even if one bad grade didn’t cost you that, you could get on Corky’s bad side, which was almost worse. Same with social fuckups. If you partied too much or got into any fights (on or off-campus) you’d almost certainly fall out of his good graces. Some of those fraternity boys never really caught on to that, and Corky could operate a whole smear campaign against you with the pro scouts without you ever knowing about it until it was too late.
It wasn’t just guys, either. Julie Davenport was a huge tennis star my freshman year—top seeded, too, which Corky really couldn’t mess with. She did go pro, but he smeared her so good in her senior year, that even when she did to pro, none of the agents would touch her. The few times you did see her in a television ad were at least two years after she went pro. Corky put the word out that she was a hothead, that the coaches found her difficult. So when she did engage with the line judges during tournaments, what would normally be seen as a disagreement became blown out of proportion for Julie. The point is, Corky was not someone to be trifled with.
Which is why, when I showed up in his office at his request, I had a very difficult time refusing his request. He had a very specific plan for getting me signed by the NFL that would not only make me look good, but make the school look good.
“You’re probably not surprised to hear that I’ve been watching you since your freshman year, Buckingham,” he said, once I’d taken a seat in one of the guest chairs at his desk.
“Yessir.”
“Now, let’s dispense with that right away. It’s ‘Corky,’ alright?”
“Yes—yes. Of course.”
“Good, good. So, back to what I was saying, I’ve really had my eye on you. I mean, I don’t know if there’s been any quarterback in history to come in and knock his upperclassman to the bench in his freshman year! I’d have to research that, of course. The point is, I knew our Spartans had something special in you, Buck.”
Now that was weird. People besides my friends called me Buck all the time—the librarians, campus security guards, even the occasional teacher. But it just sounded wrong coming out of his mouth.
“You led the team to the championship two years in a row, you’ve got three bowl games under your belt. Hell, you were even short-listed for the Heisman last year as a junior, which is practically unheard of! And now it’s time for us to get serious about making sure you get noticed by the pro scouts—and drafted in the first round.”
“No doubt. I plan to play my hardest this year, si—Corky. And I know I can count on my tutor to help me keep my academic standing, especially within my major.”
“Ah,” he said. The way he tapped his pen on the desk made me nervous. “That would be Miss Wells, I presume?”
“Yes, that’s right.” Keeping an eye on my grades and my performance on the field was one thing. I was starting to get an inkling just how far this joker’s nose was up into my business and it was pissing me off.
“If you start to fall behind academically, let me know immediately and my office will appoint a tutor for you.”
“That won’t be necessary, Keira—“ He held up his hand to interrupt me.
“Right about now, you’re gonna want to start listening to me, son, and listening real good. You think it’s about getting you signed with an NFL team?” He didn’t wait for me to answer. “That’s only part of it. There are far-reaching aspects of this that you can’t even begin to understand. Now the scholarship that brought you here may have started out to be your good fortune, but everything that happened to you from the moment your freshman year began has been carefully monitored. Seeing you signed by a pro team isn’t just great for you. It’s good for the school. Had your grades turned south, there was no way we were going to let that happen. And if you thought otherwise, then that’s naïveté of the worst sort on your part.”
“I see.”
“No, son, I don’t think you do. Not quite yet.” I begged to differ with him, but I didn’t say so. It was clear that the school would have been willing to adjust my school records for the sake of my scholarship, had it come to that. But he was right, because even though I’d gotten that point, I had no idea what he was about to say next.
“You see, Nate, image is everything, even more so in the pros. That’s why you see these NFL franchises doing back flips when a player steps out of line.”