Keith nodded, his face tightening. The results of the last two plays were serious, a high ankle sprain for Brutus, and this time the injury was lingering. During the regular season, Brutus would be missing time for sure, with as little pressure as he could put on the foot. While there was nothing torn, that didn't mean the pain wasn't there.
"Well you've got time to rest and rehab it now, so you'll be fine come minicamp," he said. "In the meantime…"
"I got it." Brutus looked towards the wooden double doors with the Bluecats logo painted on them.
Normally his interactions with team executives were casual, friendly. After all, he was the poster boy of the Bluecat defense. Keeping him happy was important to the team.
This wasn't one of those days, and as Brutus was shown into the general manager's office, he could feel the storm clouds in the room. They started with the eyebrows of Hank McMahon, the team's president and general manager, and were reflected in the face of head coach Don Pugh. Both men were clearly in a bad mood, and didn't really care how Brutus felt about it.
"Have a seat, Brutus." McMahon indicated the chair on the other side of his desk. "How's the ankle?"
"I'll heal." Brutus settled into the chair gratefully. He didn't like showing pain, but that didn't mean he was going to put himself through agony just to look like a tough guy by standing up. "Let's get to business. What's the league telling you?"
"Hold on a minute," Coach Pugh said. "Brutus… damn boy, you keep wanting to gloss over the problem without actually addressing the cause."
Keith held up a hand, popping off. "Just a minute Coach Pugh, my client…”
"Stop, Keith," Brutus said, holding up a hand.
Keith was a good contract negotiator, and had made Brutus a lot of money. But that didn't mean Brutus wanted him always talking for him.
"Let Coach speak. He's earned the right."
"Fine… but you're the one who's the All Pro linebacker," Keith reminded Brutus, doing his job as Brutus's pitchman. "You're the second generation superstar."
Brutus grit his teeth. Keith had been around since his college days, but sometimes his "man above the team" attitude grated. Besides, Coach Pugh detested the man, he knew that for certain.
"Brutus, your agent's got a certain point," Coach slowly admitted, "in that you are the biggest attention grabber on the defense. I'm sure Mr. McMahon can tell you the numbers, but you sell more jerseys than any member of the team for certain. My problem is that you're making headlines for headaches almost as often as you are for great plays."
"Come on Coach, I haven't-"
"Week two, five thousand dollar fine for roughing the passer," Coach said. "I don't give a damn about your paycheck, but that one cost us three points on the field. Week five, another roughing the passer. Week eight, two unnecessary roughness penalties. The past two seasons, you've racked up nearly a hundred thousand dollars in on-field penalties."
Brutus couldn't deny it. He was certain he wasn't a dirty player, but he knew that he had a temper. And he hated the way the league was enforcing roughing the passer currently.
"Coach, those penalties are up across the board. I think my contributions are more than my drawbacks."
"Fine… until you start trying to start fights with military personnel in uniform," Mr. McMahon said. "Brutus, those men were there at the invitation of the Bluecats and the league. Do you know how much money our partnership with the Pentagon is worth?"
"More than my contract?" Brutus asked.
McMahon scoffed.
"Look, I was hurt and pissed off. I know I fucked up, and I'm sorry for what I said. That's why I had Keith release that statement."
"A statement isn't going to fix this," Coach Pugh said. "Especially some text wall on Instagram and Twitter. You didn't even say it on camera. Brutus, on a teammate level, you pissed off about half the locker room. That's the number of your teammates who have family members either in the military or are military veterans. Shit, our starting left tackle went to Annapolis! Those are people that you have to play with, that you have to trust and have watching your back next season."
"On a professional level, the team's fielded thousands of letters, phone calls, and emails calling for your release," McMahon added. "Including season ticket holders threatening to cancel their tickets for next year if you're in a Bluecats uniform. The league has fielded even more calls, and a massive online petition for your release has roughly a quarter million subscribers. The cable news pundits are screaming about how you're disrespecting the flag and the military, and it's become a major national controversy."
Brutus sighed, and leaned back in his chair. He knew that his outburst had gone viral, but the pure scale of it was disheartening.
"And now the league's having to answer. How bad is it?"
"Well, the Commissioner's office is giving you three options before making a public decision," McMahon said. "There's a fourth, of course."
"Fuck around and find out?" Brutus asked.
McMahon nodded.
