Legendary Football Superstar

The sky was clear as a bell, not a cloud in sight. The blue stretched out forever, with lazy airplane trails doodling across the vast emptiness. The golden sunlight was pouring down like nobody's business, filling every nook and cranny. It hit the skin, and you could almost feel every pore opening up, soaking in that dry, grassy-scented air.

The training field in front of him was a ghost town, not a soul around. Every now and then, a lark would swoop down, poking around the grass for some grub, only to realize it was a sports field with nada to munch on, and it'd take off, bored out of its mind.

Adam Klein was chilling alone in the stands, no shade to be found, baking in the sun. His black baseball cap was pretty much useless, and even though he'd just wiped his sweat, it was already creeping back out on his forehead.

Hard to believe that while cities up north were still buried in snow, LA in April was already rolling out the red carpet for summer. In two weeks, the NFL draft was gonna kick off; a few weeks after that, college football recruit selection would start; then the pro teams' training camps, preseason, and bam, regular season.

It felt like the Super Bowl had just wrapped up, and now the new season was knocking on the door. But thinking back, rookie training camp was six weeks ago, and time was flying faster than a speeding bullet.

The whole league had been in overdrive these past six weeks. Thirty-two teams, over three hundred rookies, like a giant, complicated machine, cranking into gear.

The hotshot rookies were starting to shine. Scouts and teams were crunching numbers and gathering intel; the big media outlets and columns were buzzing with predictions: what positions teams needed to fill, who they might pick, the top thirty-two rookies in the first round, and where the big names might land.

Adam was right in the thick of it: some players needed to be checked out three or four times; some needed a second look based on their rookie camp performance; some had off-field drama that needed sorting out; some players' personal lives and character needed a deep dive; and some needed a face-to-face with the team's decision-makers for another round of grilling.

Scouts and private eyes? Pretty much the same gig, if you ask me. Once all the chaos died down, Adam would tweak his scouting report and send it off.noveldrama

But no matter how slammed he was, every time he hit LA, Adam always carved out a day to swing by UCLA and catch Luke's training. This was the last one; all the other reports were in excent this final one

Truth is, no one was even asking for Luke's scouting report. During rookie camp, the New Orleans Saints had shown some interest, but their defense was a hot mess compared to their offense. They needed fresh blood on defense, pronto.

It seemed like there was a lot of buzz, but no one was willing to take the plunge.

First off, Luke's physical test results were pretty meh; second, his career stats were nothing to write home about, always circling back to those two games with low reference value; third, Avalis American and quarterback? That combo was almost a no- go in football. There weren't even Avalis American players in other positions, so trusting the team's brain to one? Yeah, right.

So, the hype from rookie camp fizzled out in real life. No one asked, no one cared, no one gave a damn.

Even the scouts stopped giving a hoot. It wasn't criticism, it wasn't hate, it wasn't even looking down; it was just plain indifference, which was scarier than a ton of bad reviews.

Adam hadn't thrown in the towel purely because of a gut feeling.

As a scout with thirty-six years in the league, he'd seen it all-generations of pros, countless talents, countless flops, and countless underdogs who blew everyone away. He had this sharp intuition, something you couldn't put into words.

With Luke, he sensed something special, something he couldn't quite pin down, but he wanted to dig it up. So, he never gave up. Even Blake Simons had bailed, but not Adam. Now, he was the lone scout still keeping tabs on Luke.

Footsteps echoed from a distance, and without even looking, Adam knew it had to be Luke.

In the past six weeks, Luke hadn't thrown in the towel or slacked off. He kept grinding, steadily getting better, like the rookie training camp hadn't even fazed him, and the six weeks of radio silence hadn't made him quit. Even during spring break, when all the college kids were partying it up, including those in the draft, he kept at it.

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He was also busting his butt to finish his college work, hitting the library every day to work on his thesis, while the other draft hopefuls had long ditched their studies once they met the NCAA requirements.

Sure enough, Luke jogged into the stadium. As soon as his feet hit the track, he kicked it into high gear, sprinting full throttle, pushing his pace to the max. After a 330-foot sprint, he eased up a bit, using the curve to catch his breath, then hit the straightaway and sprinted again.

This kind of interval running was no joke it demanded top-notch fitness, endurance, and explosiveness. Even the guys who crushed the sixty-yard shuttle run at rookie camp might struggle with this kind of training. And Adam knew Luke had already clocked over 30,000 feet.

Adam wasn't sure if he was imagining it, but it seemed like Luke's speed had picked up, and his recovery after sprints was better too. Of course, he didn't have a stopwatch to confirm it, so it might just be his wishful thinking, hoping all of Luke's hard work was paying off.

After finishing the 33,000-foot run, Luke slowed down, doing some light stretches, adjusting his breathing, and loosening up his muscles for the next round of training. "How was the trip? Any good results?" a voice asked beside him. Adam turned and saw Anthony Jefferson, grinning and clearly in a good mood.

Adam shrugged, "Same old, same old. If those so-called talented players worked even a third as hard as Luke, this year's draft would be something else."

"But that's life," Anthony sighed, like he was letting out all the stale air in his chest. "You alone today? Or waiting for someone?" Maybe a quarterback coach or an offensive coach from some team; or maybe a team manager or a senior scout.

Adam just smirked and didn't say anything.

Anthony tapped the railing with his palm, giving a bitter smile, wanting to say something but holding back. "We'll talk later. I'm heading down to help Luke with his training."

For the past six weeks, the whole school was in off-season mode, and the players and coaches were on break. But Anthony had been helping Luke train, quietly grinding away in their own way.

Watching Anthony head down to the field, Adam's smile turned a bit bitter too.

He didn't want to let them down because they'd been let down too many times. Adam had been trying to get a quarterback coach to come watch Luke's training-not the physical tests at the camp, not the quick tests over three days, but real, solid fundamental training.

But nine times, he'd struck out. Five times, they agreed over the phone but never showed up. When he called back, it was either voicemail or a bunch of lame excuses. Hopes up, hopes dashed, over and over. Adam knew that feeling all too well.

He'd actually lined up an old friend to come today, after making a dozen calls, finally convincing him to check out UCLA. But now, he couldn't be 100% sure. What if he spoke up and got let down again?

In his sight, Luke greeted Anthony with a big smile, showing no signs of being bummed out by the recent setbacks or giving up on his slowly fading future. The high- spirited curve of his mouth shone brightly in the sunlight, radiating pure energy. That passion from deep within was so beautiful and moving.

But in real life, the space for dreams to survive was really, really small.

The phone in his pocket started buzzing. Adam pulled it out and answered, "This is Adam Klein."

"Hey, buddy, where are you? I'm at the player tunnel right now." The familiar voice made Adam jump up. In his excitement, his notebook and pen fell to the ground, but he didn't care. "Old man, come out. I'm in the stands to the right of the player tunnel. You'll see me as soon as you come out."

The footsteps got closer, and then the short, stout figure came into view.