Legendary Football Superstar

Luke slouched in his chair, eyes darting around the busy hallway. The place was packed, but it was weirdly quiet, just the soft thud of footsteps on the carpet. People were rushing by, tossing out quick hellos or nods before hurrying off, all caught up in their own worlds.

It felt like no time had passed, and suddenly, it was morning again. Today was the last day of rookie training camp, the big day for team interviews. It was only 8:45 AM, and the interviews had just kicked off less than an hour ago. The Marriott Hotel corridors were buzzing with rookie players, all hyped and ready.

Luke had just wrapped up his first interview with the Cleveland Browns. The whole thing lasted about eight minutes. It was chill and all, but nothing too deep. This was Luke's first face-to-face with a team manager and coach, and he couldn't really tell if it went well or not.

Now, he was waiting for his second interview. He'd been in line for almost thirty minutes and was still hanging around.

Waiting sucked, and the nerves were starting to get to him. Luke adjusted his suit and took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. He'd been through big stuff like the Rose Bowl and major interviews during his journalism internship, but he didn't expect a simple interview to be this nerve-wracking.

"The suit's killing me, man. You feel the same?" A half-joking voice came from Luke's right. The guy was nervously unbuttoning and rebuttoning his suit, looking like he was about to burst out of it.

Luke shrugged, "Playing football's way easier than wearing this monkey suit."

"Totally," the guy laughed dryly. "I'd rather be hitting the bench press right now." A few others around them chuckled, easing the tension a bit, but soon everyone went quiet again, lost in their own thoughts, not wanting to mess up the ongoing interviews.

Time dragged on, feeling like you could hear each grain of sand falling in an hourglass. Another fifteen or twenty minutes crawled by before the door opened, and a staff member stepped out, "Next."

Luke stood up and nodded, "Luke Howard, quarterback, UCLA."

The staff member glanced at the sign-in sheet, found his name, and nodded, "Yep, once the player inside comes out, you can head in." With that, the staff member went back inside and closed the door.

About thirty seconds later, the door opened, and a player walked out with a big grin. He made eye contact with Luke and said warmly, "Good luck, man."

Luke smiled and nodded, "You too."

Taking a deep breath, Luke pushed open the door and stepped inside. The room's layout came into view: a set of surrounding sofas in the center, with two middle-aged men in suits sitting on the sofa facing the door and backing the window. To the right sat a woman who looked like a secretary, and the left side was empty.

As Luke entered, a tall, thin middle-aged man came out from a side room and walked towards the empty seat on the left. He paused when he saw Luke, showing a complex expression that was hard to read. "Peter, did John talk to you about this?" But no one looked up. The middle-aged man with gray hair, a stern expression, and a touch of elegance in his suit said in a deep voice, "Sit down, George. Our time is very tight." This was the interview room for the Seattle Seahawks. The man who spoke was Peter Carroll, the team's head coach. The silent man on the other end was the team manager, John Schneider, and the last man to enter was the team's quarterback coach, Carl Smith.

"Luke? Please sit," Peter spoke first, pointing to the sofa opposite them, facing the window and backing the door.

Luke walked over, greeted them politely, and then sat down, introducing himself again, "Luke Howard, quarterback, UCLA." He'd probably repeat this a million times today.

Peter frowned slightly, still looking down at the documents in his hand. He waved his hand lightly, "We already know that. So, you were a quarterback in high school too? But we couldn't find that in the records. What's the story?"

"I went to George Washington High School, a public school," Luke explained simply, and everyone immediately got it. Public high school sports programs are funded entirely by the state government and rarely get much development unless they achieve excellent results. Most records are incomplete, and scouts' attention is limited. "In high school, I was the starting quarterback for the team..."

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Peter cut Luke off with a wave of his hand, "High school doesn't matter much. If we need more info, we'll follow up. Besides quarterback, you play any other positions?" "Yeah, in high school I tried wide receiver, and in college, I also did some practice work on defense, trying out defensive end and linebacker," Luke replied, laying it all out there.

"You gotta be kidding me," Carl finally blurted out, looking shocked. "With your build and talent, you played defensive end? And wide receiver? This has to be a joke."

Peter and John both looked up at Luke, clearly curious about his answer.

Facing Carl's aggressive tone, Luke raised his chin a bit and said calmly, "That's why I'm a quarterback, not a defensive end or a wide receiver. I believe this is the position that suits me best."

"You forgot the prefix, practice player," Carl shot back, still pushing. Luke opened his mouth to respond, but Carl's momentum was relentless, not giving him a chance to speak. He was the interviewer, and Luke was the interviewee; he had the upper hand. "Honestly, are you sure you can play football? You're 6'3" but only 187 pounds. That's too light, really too light. And look at your combine results. Haven't you ever thought that maybe you're not cut out for football? Maybe you should give up. You know, after all, there's never been anyone like you in the league."

As a journalist, Luke knew how to grab topics and seize opportunities, but as his anger peaked, he found himself calming down. He let Carl rant, while Peter and John, sitting diagonally, had no intention of stopping him. The room felt more like an interrogation than an interview.

"Someone like me, what do you mean by that? Mr. Smith, could you please clarify?" Luke raised his chin slightly. He could hear the contempt and disdain in Carl's tone, the whole attitude was off. "A player who's underweight? A player with average combine results? Or a player who comes for an interview and faces personal attacks?"

A string of rebuttals made Carl's cheeks flush slightly, as if he were drunk, and his anger flared up, "Avalis, I mean Avalis."

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and turn. The next chapter awaits, exclusively on our site. Dive in now! Luke clenched his fists, ignoring Carl, and turned to John, not Peter, but John. "Mr. Schneider, is Mr. Smith questioning my personal ability, or is he questioning my skin color and ethnicity? Is this racial discrimination?"

This wasn't just a personal issue; it was a team issue. Luke directly expressed his complaint and protest to the team manager, emphasizing the seriousness of the matter.

Luke knew his physical talents were lacking, and any team had the right to question that. But Carl's manner and tone always had an underlying implication, hinting at Luke's race rather than his physical abilities.

"I only know that what determines whether a player can take the field should be the player's ability, not their race. Half a century ago, white people thought football was a high-intelligence sport unsuitable for black people and refused to let them into the professional league. But now, black people have become the most important part of the league. So, are you questioning me because of my ability or my race? I need an answer."

Unyielding yet sharp. At this moment, Luke wasn't just a rookie player here for an interview; he was an Avalis American youth living in the United States, fighting for his rights and interests.

"I'm just stating a fact," Carl felt Luke's disregard, and the accumulated anger of the past few days erupted, "Haven't you ever thought that maybe Asians aren't suited for football?"

"Just like black people aren't suited for math, art, or reading, is that it?" Luke didn't pause, countering firmly. Carl was momentarily speechless, and Luke suddenly turned his head, looking at the always-silent John and Peter, standing up abruptly, "I will report this to the league!"

"That's not how it is, it's just a misunderstanding," John finally came to his senses, trying to patch things up, "We were just concerned about your combine results. The test data isn't very convincing." John turned to Peter for help.noveldrama

But Luke had no intention of sitting back down. He looked down at John and Peter, "Well, your way of expressing it is very unpleasant. I'm quite sure that if it were a black person or a woman sitting here, you wouldn't choose this approach. This makes me even more certain that I'm not the person the Seattle Seahawks are looking for."

With that, Luke slightly nodded, then straightened his back, turned around, and left the room without looking back.

Damn! Deep inside, Luke's anger was raging. His fists were tightly clenched! He would make them regret it.