Chapter One
Nate
“Ouch,” I muttered, stopping halfway up the stairs of my palatial mansion to massage my knee. To anyone who might be watching, I probably looked like an old man suffering an arthritis flare-up on a cold, rainy day. However, the skies were clear as the water in the harbor where I had docked my boat not an hour ago, and it was a typical, warm June afternoon. Old age wasn’t my problem - football was.
Was.I hated that word, because it meant that I could no longer play the sport that had defined my life since I knew how to run. I had tossed the football in the backyard with my friends as a kid, played on my high school and college teams, and been hand-picked by the Lexington Colonels NFL Team, where I had become their star quarterback. One brutal tackle and a knee replacement later, I had no career and no idea what to do next.
I fought back the onset of yet another foul mood, which had become all too common lately. For this evening, at least, my depression had faded away. Why? Because it was a Thursday. I never had to worry about what to do on Thursdays, because I always had the same plan. Riker, Zeke and I would spend the evening drinking, talking, and gambling or playing pool at the exclusive Hamptons Peak Club.
This Thursday might be a bit different,I reminded myself. Today was June 3rd, a day that was also known to some as my birthday. As an adult, all I had done for the last several years was glance at the calendar, realized it was June 3rd and shrugged before going about my day. But none of those birthdays had fallen on a Thursday, recently.
I continued up the stairs, shrugging off the date as usual. Riker and Zeke knew of my indifference toward my birthday, so they would probably just tell me that drinks were on them all night - a joke, of course, since the membership dues at the Hamptons Peak included an open bar. Still, it’s the thought that counted and having my two best friends feel obligated to keep a drink in front of me for an evening definitely wasn’t a bad thing.
As I got ready to leave, I did my best to ignore my knee. It didn’t really hurt most of the time. But despite the four months of therapy, I had endured since my Super Bowl injury, it still felt a bit stiff and twinged at times when I turned too fast. My therapist told me to do my best not to walk with a limp since we wanted the reconstructed joint to get stronger, but I struggled to manage that sometimes.
I definitely need this evening out,I admitted to myself. With nothing to do except take my boat out and go to therapy, I was becoming a bit stir crazy. I had hopes of going on long runs again someday, and I was looking forward to lifting weights again without being watched like a hawk by my therapist to ensure I wouldn’t hurt myself.
The short drive from my mansion to the Hamptons Peak stiffened my knee a bit, and I did my best to stretch it out on the walk from the lobby to the bar. My eyes were trained on my knee, giving it one last good stretch when I rounded the corner and looked up to find my friends standing in front of me.
“Surprise!” The cacophony of voices would have made me physically jump if I was not focused on guarding my knee. I looked up to see… well, just about everyone I knew at the Hamptons Peak. Riker and Nate stood at the forefront of the crowd, grinning diabolically.
“Surprise?” I joked, trying to save face and calm my racing heart while I accepted hi-fives, handshakes and slaps on the back from the cheerful group.
Nate shrugged. “I mean, youweresurprised.”
I couldn’t argue with that. I clapped Zeke on the back, “Nice to see you. You’ve been in Paris for over a month.”
“Great to be home. I wouldn’t have missed this for anything,” Zeke said, laughing as I continued thanking the guests of my very unexpected but welcomed party. After the flurry of greetings and thanks subsided, a grinning barkeep slid my favorite drink across the bar toward me.
“Don’t worry about driving home, we’ve got you covered,” Riker promised.
I raised my glass in a toast and drained half of it in one gulp. At least, my knee didn’t keep me from drinking.
“Also,” Riker continued, “we have a birthday present for you.”
“Oh, you do? Oh, no!” I took another sip, just in case this “present” was something I needed to steel myself against. I wouldn’t put it past Nate and Riker to play some sort of birthday trick or prank on me.
“You’ll love it.” Riker sent a double thumbs-up to the bartender. The man finished making a drink, reached inside a cabinet and pulled out a remote.
I looked up at the numerous screens spaced around the bar, and I saw a very familiar football team and an even more familiar football player. “Guys,” I laughed. “What’s this?” I watched myself complete one pass after another over the course of several games.
“Your highlight reel! Nathaniel T. Jackson’s Best Plays,” Zeke told me proudly. Then he handed me a DVD case with a very creative rendering of me on the front peering out of my helmet menacingly, wearing my red and white uniform.
I flipped it over to pretend I was examining the back while I waited for the knot in my throat to go away. “Thanks. You shouldn’t have,” I managed.
All three of us knew that I knew this was more of an ‘it’s the thought that counts’ situation. But neither of my friends offered a witty response to my comment. In fact, I caught them sharing relieved glances between them - they had probably been worried that the highlight reel might upset me since my career in professional football was over.
Strangely, though, as I sat at the bar, joking and laughing while I watched myself play my best games, I hardly had a negative thought. It was a chapter in my life that had closed much sooner than I expected, and that hurt. But I had accomplished what many guys only fantasized about - I had won the Super Bowl.
A lot of players hit their peak and kept playing, struggling to maintain a competitive level until age caught up with them. But I doubted if I had hit my peak. I was too young. Actually, I figured I had a few more Super Bowl level performances left to come. Now there was no way to know since I was forced into retirement.
As for what to do next… that was what I was challenged with... something I would have to figure out. And sooner would be better than later for my mental health. One thing was sure - I had never been afraid of hard work.
I made a sarcastic toast to myself when no one was looking.Here’s to positive thinking.
The highlight reel went on and on. I wondered how many hours my friends had dedicated to collecting all these clips. When I mentioned that, Riker rubbed his palms together. “Don’t worry…. we saved the best for last. It should be coming up soon now.”
“Oh, hell, I wonder what that could be,” I said, although I had a very good idea of exactly what the final clip was. An air of expectation lingered over those drinking and watching the replays, eagerly waiting for that one special play that hadn’t come up on the screens yet.
