Page 1 of Fumble Into the End Zone

Chapter 1

It’s Draft Day

Marcus Allen

Standing on the back porch, I tried to settle my nerves. The USPN camera crew was setting up their equipment in my living room for a draft day special. The cool air brushing my skin hasn’t calmed my stomach. This was the second most important day of my life after the birth of my daughter.

“Marcus, baby, they need you,” a wise but comforting voice said.

I followed the source , finding the woman I owed my world to, my grandmother. At 5’5 and carrying a cane, Eddy Allen was more dangerous than a 6’5 biker.

“Yes, ma’am,” I acknowledged.

I followed her inside the house that I helped custom build. Running my fingertips against the cream paint, I smiled. Unlike my counterparts, I used my NIL money and bought three properties. I renovated the first house for my grandmother and my daughter, Harley. During the off season, I spent my time cutting wood and painting. I used the skills the late Mr. Earl had taught me. Whatever I couldn’t do myself, I subcontracted.When the general contractor found out I knew my way around the construction site, he stopped bullshitting me.

Entering the living room behind my grandmother, I helped her to a seat, but she waved my hand away. My support circle was small outside of my daughter and grandmother. I had flown in my high school coach, Noah Sims, from Arkansas just for today. He had never given up on me, even when I made liking me hard. My college coach, Ray Pierce, had also agreed to share this moment with me. He put me on the big stage in Ohio with a full ride scholarship and I made every play count. The boosters were beating down his door with NIL deals by my sophomore year.

I lifted my arms as the camera crew circled me to put on mics for the live taping.

“He is ready. Let’s test it out,” the producer’s assistant said as she stood in front of me with a set of seductive brown eyes.

She scanned the length of my body twice before she stepped backward.

“Marcus, could you speak into the mic?” the guy behind me asked.

“Testing, testing, testing,” I said.

“He is good,” she said and then followed with a thumbs up.

The assistant scanned me again, opening the door for an offer, but I declined. Don’t get me wrong, she had a nice figure, but I preferred my women to be at least a size eighteen. The vibration of my phone stole my attention.

“Marcus,” I answered.

“This is your agent, Dean. I have good news for you. Teams were impressed with your pro day workout. I think we are going in the late first round.”

“Do you think we could pull the top ten?” I asked with my eyes on Harley sitting beside my grandmother.

“Anything is possible. The true test will be how fast Williams flies off the board. In comparison, your stats were similar.”

To provide for my family the way I wanted, I needed to be selected in the top ten. My grandmother and Harley depended on me financially, and this sport was unpredictable. One bad hit or turn, and your career could be over. The salary cap for rookies in the Football League was the highest it’s ever been this year. My eyes were on the guaranteed money.

“I’ll be in touch; make sure you answer the unknown calls. I know how you are, Marcus,” he said.

I managed to laugh at his statement. He knew I didn’t answer calls from any unsaved numbers. Walking over to the couch, I shimmied between my grandmother and Harley.

“Daddy, you’re too big,” she said before she moved over.

“Get your butt on the other couch,” my grandmother voiced her objection.

After I secured my spot, I stretched my arms over on the back of the couch. My daughter covered her eyes with her small fingers before she giggled.

“I don’t know what I’m gon’ do with you,” Eddy Allen said.

Opting to have my draft day at home with my grandmother, my daughter, and coaches was the best decision. My stomach churned as we all watched Rick Marrows, the commissioner of the Football League, walk on the blue covered stage. The white spotlights brought drama to the platform.

“Daddy, are you nervous?” Harley asked before she crawled into my lap.

I kissed her cheek and tickled her stomach before I answered, “Yes, I’m nervous.”

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