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Bolt Up, Bosa Up (Chapters One and Two)
🕑 Added 2021-09-06 15:01:02 +0000 UTCWelcome to September, folks! This is another multi-part series that I'll be releasing over the next few months, two chapters at a time. My current intention is to have eight chapters all in all, so releases will run all the way through to the end of the year. This is a bodyswap story featuring one of my absolute favourite football players, Joey Bosa of the LA Chargers, and an anime-loving college kid. I really hope you all have as much fun reading it as I did while writing it! Big thanks to Nate / Soul Controller for being my beta reader and offering some great suggestions.
Chapter One
It was an unfortunate truth that in football there would always be winners and losers. Absolutely nobody involved in the Los Angeles Chargers organisation wanted to be lumped in with the second, but it was an unfortunate truth that despite finding their franchise quarterback in Justin Herbert and finishing the previous season with a better win-loss ratio than the year before, the Chargers were still not considered a serious threat for the playoffs.
In an attempt to try and boost their chances at making the playoffs during the next football season, the Chargers’ head office had made a number of new hires within the coaching staff. The vast majority of the athletes on the team’s roster were pleased by this development, seeing the fresh blood as their best chance to really make an impact in the upcoming season. Indeed the team were having their best pre-season training camp in recent memory, and almost everyone was in high spirits. However, one of the few people who had reservations about the new coaching staff was a highly valuable member of the team: their star edge rusher Joey “Big Bear” Bosa.
Despite his six-foot-five height and weight of two-hundred-and-eighty pounds, Joey was actually a pretty easy going guy who looked much more intimidating than he actually was. He loved his team and he loved the sport of football, but he didn’t always appreciate the attitude that some members of the coaching staff could have. They were mercifully a minority but there were some coaches out there who treated their players like they were disobedient children or rebellious servants, berating them and even hurling slurs at them. He’d experienced it back in college and hadn’t stood for it then, confronting the coach after a particularly turbulent practice and then reporting his concerns to the school’s dean when the coach continued to emotionally torture his team. Joey had hoped he’d never come across such a man again, but he was quickly beginning to suspect that the new linebacker coach was cut from the same cloth.
Keith Addison had achieved success back in his own professional football career as a linebacker and had helped a number of college teams achieve championship gold before getting called up to the Chargers staff. He was a gruff man with very little tolerance for anything he deemed to be a distraction from the game he had dedicated his life to. While some of the other players on the defensive side of the team appreciated the new coach’s intensity, Joey foresaw trouble. Addison wasn’t shy about calling the athletes under his command “fairies” or comparing them to teenage girls. He was yet to say something outright offensive, but it was surely only a matter of time. Joey had expressed his concerns to folks higher up the coaching ladder and was told to let Addison properly settle in before judging him. That had been a frustrating thing to hear, but Joey agreed it was probably in everyone’s best interest if he gave Addison the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he’d mellow out after a few weeks with the team.
Holding onto such hope very quickly turned out to be a mistake. Addison was sucking away Joey’s enthusiasm for the sport like he was some sort of vampire and the star athlete was left in a near permanent foul mood as a result. His performance on the training field took a hit too, with his movements and his judgment not nearly as sharp as they needed to be, which only furthered the rift between Joey and the new coach. His teammates had noticed and questioned him about it but Joey was reluctant to share his feelings with them for fear that he might stir up trouble in the locker room and be painted as an aggressor. It was a sticky situation to say the least and Joey wasn’t sure there was anything he could do other than file another complaint about Addison’s behaviour - or request a trade from the team. That was definitely a last resort though, as Joey felt settled in Los Angeles and had made good friends on the team. That wasn’t even mentioning the hefty price tag attached to the contract he’d recently signed and while Joey wasn’t the most money-hungry individual in the NFL by a long shot, even he balked at the idea of throwing so much away. Besides, he didn’t want to have to uproot his whole life just because he couldn’t get on with one of his coaches. You’re a big guy, Joey. Get on with your job and earn the big bucks they’re paying you. The last thing he wanted was to be labelled as a locker room diva, as it would hurt any future deals he might make once his contract with the Chargers was up.
“Yo, Bosa! Big Bear!” That was Justin Herbert, the team’s quarterback, all floppy hair and big smiles as usual. He had settled into the team without issue during his rookie season and was well-respected by everyone despite being one of the youngest guys in the locker room. The two had formed a friendship during the previous season and Joey had been happy to take the other under his wing, even if they made an odd pair as players on the opposing sides of the same team. The kid was seemingly always in good spirits and did a good job at snapping Joey out of his rather dour demeanour. “Hey, I was wondering if you had any more anime recommendations for me,” the younger man asked, flashing a bright grin up at his teammate. “I took out a Crunchyroll subscription in the end, just like you suggested, so hit me up with a list.”
Joey chuckled and threw his arm around the smaller man’s shoulders. It was a fairly well known fact that his second love after football was anime, although there were still people who were surprised to discover that. After all, the stereotype of an anime nerd was that they were skinny dweebs who lived in their parents’ basement rather than tall muscular athletes who would easily be considered to be above average levels of attractiveness. More than once he had let his fandom show while out on the field, throwing up an Attack on Titan salute after achieving a sack on the opposing team’s quarterback. He’d been responsible for getting a number of his teammates into anime and Herbie was just the latest of them.
Unfortunately not everybody seemed to appreciate Joey’s fondness for the art form. It hadn’t been much of a surprise for Joey to discover that Addison had absolutely no love for it. The defense coach regularly shut down the conversation whenever one of the other linebackers attempted to broach the conversation with Joey, chiding them for talking about “kiddie cartoons” when they should be focusing on football. It left Joey to wonder if Addison had anything in his life beyond the sport - surely there was something else that brought him happiness? Making others unhappy is probably a source of happiness for him, the edge rusher thought bitterly, before reminding himself that it would do no favours to stew in such sourness. He needed to rise above.
“I’ll throw a list together for you tonight,” he informed the quarterback before grimacing, “Oh, Addison wants to see me after practice about something so you might wanna get a lift home from someone else.” Joey had been ferrying the younger man to and from training camp for the past few weeks, but other players who had been called into Addison’s office had ended up trapped in there for up to an hour after practice, so Joey thought it was better to be safe.
“Oh fun,” Justin replied, his voice full of sympathy. While Joey hadn’t expressed his full distaste towards the defense coach to the quarterback, Justin was alert enough to deduce the source of Joey’s bad moods. “I know I’ve said it before but if you need to rant--”
“Hey, none of that,” Joey interrupted with a gentle chuckle. “I don’t rant, it’s not my kind of thing. You’re a good kid, though. I appreciate it.” He reached up to ruffle Justin’s hair, prompting the quarterback to pull sharply away from him.
“Not a kid!” Justin hissed, offering a playful glare at his teammate. Joey just grinned back.
“Sure, kid.”
x
Back in his prime Keith Addison would probably have rivalled Joey in terms of size and muscularity, but Father Time had finally caught up with him as the man entered his fifties. His build was still strong, with broad shoulders and thick legs, but he carried extra weight around his gut, his face featured prominent jowls, and he had little remaining of the stamina that had made him a dominant force on the football field back in the nineties. He struck Joey as the kind of guy who was bitter that his better days were behind him, and took that frustration out on the players he coached. If anything he served as a warning to Joey: Coach Addison was everything he didn’t want to be when his playing career was over.
“Take a seat, Bosa,” the older man commanded, stubbornly refusing to look up from his laptop and acknowledge the athlete’s arrival into his office. It was little moments like that which contributed to Joey’s distaste for Addison; was it really so difficult to show a little decency and politeness?
With a hint of reluctance, Joey followed the coach’s instruction and sat down in one of the available chairs across from the man’s desk. “You wanted to see me, Coach?” the six-foot-five football player asked, maintaining a neutral expression but keeping an air of friendliness and respect to his deep voice. He was certain that their meeting wasn’t so Addison could lump praise on him, but Joey wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of dreading what was to be said.
After a long pause, Addison finally finished tapping on the laptop keyboard and fixed his steely glare on Joey. His face was fixed into a permanent scowl at the best of times but there seemed to be an extra layer of displeasure hanging in the air around him at that moment. “Bosa, do you consider yourself to be a football player?”
Joey had to fight back the urge to laugh. What the hell kinda question is that? Still, he had to play it carefully with Addison. “Yes Coach,” he responded in as measured a tone as he could possibly manage.
Despite his best attempts, Joey was unable to read the expression on Addison’s face. “Okay, okay,” the coach huffed, pausing for a moment and then continuing with another question: “How much do you love this sport?” This time though he didn’t even pause long enough for Joey to comprehend how he was expected to respond. “Because it seems to me like there’s other shit you’d rather be doing. You’re becoming a hindrance to the team, Bosa, and I can’t stand for it.”
The words were a slap to the face. How dare Addison question his commitment to football! How dare he suggest that he was hindering the team! Rage bubbled up inside Joey within an instant; he couldn’t remember the last time someone had gotten him so heated. “That’s complete bull,” he snapped, dropping any pretense of remaining respectful towards the coach. Joey wouldn’t stand by and let anyone slander him like that, and especially not somebody who was supposed to support and mentor the team. “I’m as committed to this team--”
“What, as you are to your childish cartoons?” the coach interrupted before offering up a barking laugh. It was a cruel and mocking sound and only served to further fuel the fire burning within the star edge rusher. “Give me a break, if you were serious about this sport then you wouldn’t waste your time with that shit!” The man had worked himself up into a frenzy, his volume escalating while his tone deepened into a monstrous growl.
“Are you kidding me?! That’s why you don’t like me?” The words had burst forth from Joey before he could even contemplate holding them back. “Gimme a fucking break, man, that’s ridiculous. You think me watching anime negatively affects the team?!” This is a whole new level of bullshit. Out of all of the possible reasons that Addison might take issue with him, his appreciation for anime hadn’t exactly been on the list. What kind of grown man took issue with another’s innocent viewing habits? It was hard to believe this was a conversation they were really having.
Unsurprisingly, Joey’s defiance only escalated the tensions in the room. Addison rose to his feet and placed his hands down on his desk, leaning forward into a pose that would have easily intimidated any lesser man. “You can add your blatant disrespect for authority as another reason I’m fed up with your punk ass, Bosa,” the coach snapped, his eyes alight with an intense frenzy. “I’m trying to rescue this team! Trying to elevate a sorry bunch of losers and yes, that includes you! I won’t have any distractions and I won’t tolerate being spoken to like that!”
Joey had heard more than enough. Every passing moment in the older man’s company made him more and more likely to do something that might get him suspended from the NFL - or completely end his professional football career. Pushing himself up to his feet, Joey bit back on his temper as much as he could and instead offered up a single seething remark: “Fine, if you think I’m that much of a distraction, why don’t we see how the team does without me for a bit, huh?” To tell the truth Joey wasn’t sure how much he bought into his own threat, and he was almost certain that the Chargers head office would be unhappy with him, but he wasn’t about to sit there and have some washed-up grouch dictate what he could and couldn’t do in his free time. Nothing in his contract stated that he had to tolerate such bullshit.
As expected, Coach Addison just had to have the last word. Even as Joey stormed out of the room, almost pulling the office door off of its hinges in the process, the man continued barking at the retreating athlete: “You’re only coming back when you agree to give up on that childish crap, you hear me? Trust me, Bosa, you’ll see it my way eventually!”
Joey just scoffed. He had no doubt that Addison would do his damndest to punish him but the simple truth was that Joey was too valuable to the team to be kept out of practice for long. It was going to be a battle of wills and pretty soon Coach Addison would learn that part of being a Bosa was being stubborn as all hell!
x
Beep! Beep! Joey’s phone hadn’t stopped buzzing for the past two hours. Somehow his argument with Coach Addison and his dramatic exit from the Chargers facility (still in all of his practice gear at that) had spread onto social media, although Joey was already speculating that Addison was to blame for it. Probably trying to paint me as a diva or some shit. Years of being in the public eye, as well as his brother Nick’s own social media troubles, had taught Joey not to read anything online that had his name attached to it, so he did his best not to think about what people might be thinking of him.
A number of the unread messages on his cell phone were actually from Nick, as well as Herbert and his other teammates. There were several missed calls from a number that Joey recognised to be from senior members of the Chargers management team, but he had deliberately fielded those calls. He needed time to cool off before he spoke to anyone about what had happened and unfortunately that renewed calmness was still yet to appear, even hours after the bust up. It was most unlike him and that only troubled Joey further. How could he have let the narrow-minded coach’s words get under his skin so easily?
Taking a long swig from the beer bottle in his hands - his third of the night - Joey relaxed back further into the leather couch that he had thrown himself onto. Episodes from the most recent season of Attack on Titan were playing on the thirty inch television screen but the athlete was struggling to pay attention, despite his love for the series. He was imprisoned within his own bitterness, the enjoyment sapped out of him by the ghost of his earlier conversation. “Fuck you, Keith,” the football player muttered, his words loaded with uncharacteristic venom.
Only a short while later Joey was finally swallowed up by the intense compulsion to close his eyes and seek out rest. The tiredness had seemingly come out of nowhere, perhaps a combined effect of his foul mood eating up his energy and the alcohol he’d rapidly consumed. Joey saw no reason to fight it either; perhaps some sleep would provide the clear head he needed. Indeed, it wasn’t much longer before rumbling snores escaped from his lips and the empty beer bottle rolled out from his loose grip and dropped onto the carpet. While Joey escaped into a world of peaceful dreams though, there was much more going on behind the scenes…
Chapter Two
Robin Cassler absolutely loved football, but there was one major issue: never in a million years would he be suitable to play it. He’d learned that the hard way, through countless moments of humiliation that continued to haunt him up to that day. Whatever higher power existed evidently thought he’d make for a perfect punching bag because his dreams had been crushed in a thorough fashion and they had taken all of his confidence with them. The outgoing and excitable child had grown into a sullen and shy young man. His high school years had been a marathon of torment and now that he was a year into his college studies, it seemed like there would be no rapid improvement in his well-being.
Even though his father had never openly expressed as such, Robin knew that his old man was disappointed that his only child hadn’t turned out to be the sports star he’d dreamed of raising. Robin should have had the genetics that allowed him to succeed - his father was tall and strong and had been a college football superstar in his own right - but those physical blessings had refused to produce themselves. At nineteen years old he had stalled at five-foot-eight and one-hundred-and-forty pounds and absolutely none of his father’s attempts to fatten him up had worked. He could eat three-thousand calories a day and it wouldn’t even show! Some people might have considered such a remarkable metabolism a blessing but for Robin it was a curse.
While Robin’s physical inferiority meant he was ill-suited for the vast majority of positions on a football team, he’d clung onto the hope that he might make a good kicker. They were often the slightest guys on the team but they had a highly important role and could make or break a game. Robin practiced his kicks every day for months during his freshman year of high school but despite his best efforts, he simply couldn’t be relied on for any sort of accuracy. That had been the final nail in the coffin for Robin’s football dreams and since then he had been relegated to the bleachers, cheering on his high school and college teams while secretly wishing that he could be out there among them.
With football out of the question, Robin had sought out other passions and eventually found himself drawn towards art. As the type to regularly lose focus during lessons, Robin began doodling in the margins of his school-books and when his Math teacher had caught him out, he struck up a deal with Robin: he wouldn’t assign a detention for the lack of focus if the student started attending one of the extra-curricular art clubs. It had seemed like a strange trade-off at the time, but Robin quickly became thankful for it, as he soon discovered that drawing was actually a therapeutic experience for him. When he was alone with his sketchbook, the world seemed to disappear and hours would rocket by in a flash.
It took some time for Robin to find his niche but in his junior year of high school he had been approached by another of his school’s less athletically gifted students, who wanted his help in creating a comic book based on a story he’d written. At first Robin had laughed off the idea, but he eventually agreed to it after talking it through with his father. While the Cassler patriarch - a hardworking single father - had wanted his son to take after him more than he did, he also tried to encourage Robin in any avenue. His son’s happiness was the most important thing in the world to him, and although he was definitely no art critic, he could see as clear as day that his son was gifted with a pencil in his hands.
During his last two years in high school Robin and his new friend produced a number of amateur comic books, and in time Robin was no longer only reading comic books to help him understand the expected art styles and conventions but also because he was actually invested in the stories. From there it wasn’t much of a leap to reading manga - comics that had originated in Japan - and eventually Robin had found himself as an avid watcher of anime, especially those that were adapted from manga series he enjoyed like Dragon Ball, Death Note and Attack on Titan. He was a little embarrassed by how quickly he’d fallen down that slippery slope, but reading manga and watching anime kept him from fixating on the life that he could never actually lead, so he perceived it to be an overall positive.
Unlike the reality that he would never become a professional football player, it had been much easier for Robin to accept his feelings for men. The discovery had taken time but like most things in his life, it circled back to football. He had been watching an NFL game with his dad when the broadcast cut to a close up shot of the Houston Texans’ star defensive player JJ Watt on the sidelines. JJ was only a few years into his professional career at that point but he was already well on his way to becoming a superstar. Although Robin and his father were avid fans of the Arizona Cardinals due to their proximity to the team’s stadium, Robin had always appreciated Watt’s explosive game technique. At that moment it wasn’t the athlete’s impressive skills on the field that were captivating the teenage Robin though: it was the bulky muscles and the undeniably handsome face. It awoke something deep within him and it didn’t take Robin long to realise what that meant, although he didn’t sum up the courage to tell his father until he was eighteen and just a few months away from graduating. Once again the older Cassler had proven himself to be the best father a boy could ask for, and insisted that he’d continue to love Robin no matter who he might marry one day - as long as they appreciated football, that was!
Unfortunately not everyone was as accepting as Robin’s father was, and although he remained in the closet throughout high school, he had made an easy target for the students who came from more narrow-minded families. Robin never told his father about any of the outright bullying or even the microaggressions he received from peers, fearing that they would finally be the straw that broke the camel’s back and encourage his father to finally see him as the disappointing failure that he saw himself as being.
Robin hoped that college would bring about a fresh start, and for the most part it really did. The campus population was much more diverse than his high school had been, and Robin was surprised to find that there were even support groups and societies for the LGBTQ+ members on the student roll. His reserved nature meant that Robin didn’t actually join those societies, but it was nice to know that they were there, at least. Maybe one day he’d work up that courage, and perhaps he’d even find a nice guy to date and take home to introduce to his father. That last part seemed like a long shot though, as Robin’s tastes skewed towards the more muscular and athletic members of the male gender, and it seemed unlikely that a football jock would ever lower their standards enough to date a shy anime-loving twink like him!
Although he had quickly become a devoted supporter of his college’s championship-hungry football team, Robin couldn’t say that he was a particularly big fan of everybody on the team’s roster. Max Harding, the team’s starting Tight End, had actually been a student at Robin’s high school, albeit in the year above. While not all of the jocks at Robin’s school had fallen into the cliché of being an arrogant meathead, such a description fit Max to a tee. He was the type to deliberately trip Robin up in the corridor or threaten the smaller student with violence if Robin didn’t complete Max’s homework assignments, and of course he never saw any punishment for his actions because he was a large part of the football team’s success. It seemed that his freshman year at college had done little to mature Max, as upon recognising Robin innocently walking between classes, he quickly fell back into his old routine of mocking the much smaller man. It was guys like Max who had robbed Robin of his confidence; how could he be expected to fight back against a guy who towered over him at six-three and two-hundred-and-thirty pounds?
Crossing paths with Max was unfortunately a regular occurrence for Robin and although he had gotten good at taking alternate routes or hiding in crowds, the art student wasn’t always lucky enough to avoid his tormentor’s predatory gaze. Such a day transpired early on in Robin’s sophomore year. Despite taking one of the less used paths around the college campus after finishing up his classes for the day, he still stumbled right into the jock’s path. Immediately Robin’s heart sank, working in opposition to the rising smirk on Max’s frustratingly handsome face. Why does someone with such an ugly personality have such a beautiful exterior? Once again Robin was reminded of just how unfair the world was.
“I’ve been wondering where you were, Robbie Cumdump!” Yeah, Max was real original with the names he used to taunt him. As far as Robin was concerned it was a miracle the other had actually managed to graduate high school, he was about as far from academically gifted as one could possibly be. “Have you been avoiding me?” Then, when Robin didn’t immediately reply, Max lunged forward and pinned him against the wall. The sudden impacts from both his bully’s hard grip and the unforgiving wall behind him caused Robin to flinch - another sign of weakness that Max was sure to take note of. “I asked you a question, Robbie. Didn’t your old man teach you any manners?”
Robin bristled at the mention of his father. Max was unfortunately aware of the fact that the older Cassler had been a football star in his own day, and took particular joy in suggesting that Robin must be adopted because he couldn’t possibly be the offspring of a football player. The worst part of it all was that Max’s words had sunk in and made Robin doubt the truth from time to time. Still, that only made him loathe the Tight End even more. “Get off me, asshole,” he spat, wishing that his voice wasn’t quivering in fear while he made a rare attempt to act defiantly. It didn’t exactly come naturally to him.
Before things could escalate further, another familiar voice addressed Max: “You heard him, Harding. Let him go.” Both boys turned to look at the new arrival and Robin’s heart fluttered at who he saw standing there. Porter Vann was the starting Quarterback of the college’s football team and the closest thing there was to a local celebrity. It was easy to understand why everyone adored Porter too. Not only was he an incredibly talented quarterback, boasting both impressive arm strength and accuracy as well as incredible speed, but he also looked like he belonged on the cover of magazines. His features might as well have been carved from marble by some ancient Roman sculptor; he was a vision of masculine perfection with his square jawline, heavy brow and strong but not overbearing muscles. Absolutely every straight girl on campus wanted to be the one on Porter’s arm and truthfully Robin did too, although he knew that was about as impossible as him ever playing football. Just life taunting me with what I can’t have again, go figure.
Max’s grip on the front of Robin’s shirt softened, but he didn’t let go completely. “This doesn’t concern you, QB,” he growled, his eyes narrowed in Porter’s direction.
“You’re damaging my team’s reputation by acting like a meathead, so yeah, it does concern me,” Porter replied without missing a beat. He paused a few feet away and folded his arms, giving Robin an easy view of his spectacular biceps. They were basically the same size as Robin’s thighs, if not larger! “Come on, Harding, don’t make me repeat myself.”
Much to Robin’s surprise, Max actually followed Porter’s instructions and let his grip loosen completely. He waited a moment before stepping back, and levelled his glare towards Robin. “You get lucky this time, fag,” he hissed, lingering a moment longer to ensure the words had sunk in, before turning and storming away with his broad shoulders slouched.
Although the danger was over, Porter didn’t immediately depart. “Are you okay?” he asked, stepping closer and checking over Robin with a customary glance. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?” He unfolded his arms and pushed his hands into his pockets, adopting a much more open position in an attempt to appear unthreatening.
“I’m fine,” Robin mumbled in response, barely able to maintain eye contact with the other man for more than a few seconds at a time. “Thank you for stepping in but you really didn’t have to.” There was absolutely no doubt in Robin’s mind that the situation would have ended up very badly for him if Porter hadn’t intervened, but he didn’t want anyone to think that he was completely helpless, even if the truth is that he was. Hyper-aware of the athlete’s intense gaze upon him, Robin began to shrink away. “I should get going.”
“Robin, hey--” Porter started, only to drift off when the art student scampered away. There was a rather large part of Robin that wished he’d stuck around to hear what the handsome quarterback had wanted to say to him, but he was terrified of embarrassing himself in front of the other. It was bad enough that he was already blushing so intensely! Running away - or swiftly walking, as was more accurate - was simply the safest option for all involved.
x
The encounter with Max had left Robin both emotionally and physically drained. He’d almost fallen asleep at several points while completing the research needed for his next batch of classes, and he struggled to find the energy to even call up a pizza place and order a delivery. He’d even cancelled on his planned video call with his father using the excuse of extreme workload, simply because he knew that his father would see through any facade he attempted and would fuss over him. Richard Cassler was something of an overprotective man, especially when it came to his only offspring.
After filling his belly with takeaway pizza and closing down the multitude of browser tabs he had open on his laptop, Robin started to get ready for bed. He had just slipped out of his day clothes and into the Arizona Cardinals themed pajamas that his father had brought him for Christmas the previous year when his cell phone began buzzing on the nightstand. Usually Robin would refuse to pick up a call from an unknown number at nine o’clock at night, but he knew that his father was getting a new cell phone soon and suspected that it was just his old man calling to inform him that he’d finally made the change, or to make sure that he wasn’t overworking himself, given Robin’s earlier excuse to escape the video call.
The gruff voice on the other end of the line was indeed familiar, but it didn’t belong to Richard “Richie” Cassler as Robin had expected. “Mr Addison?” the art student gasped in surprise, remembering the stoic man who had lived across the road from him almost a decade earlier. Despite all that time passing, his former neighbor’s gravelly voice was distinctive enough that he had been able to identify him immediately. “Did my Dad give you my number?”
There was a brief barking laugh on the other end of the line. “You’ve always been a smart boy. He did,” Mr Addison confirmed. Robin had been vaguely aware that his father had maintained contact with their former neighbor, although the last he remembered hearing, Mr Addison was now living out in Los Angeles. “Look, son, I remember how much you love football.” Although Robin had never had much of a throwing arm and was terrible at catching, he and his father had thrown a ball around in the front yard sem-regularly during his early teenage years, and they had even watched a few games at Mr Addison’s house over the years, so it made sense to Robin that the other would remember. “Forgive my bluntness but while you might not have the body to play, you can still help me out with something. I’ve got an opportunity with the Chargers out here in L.A. that I think you’d be perfect for.”
A thousand thoughts rushed through Robin’s mind all at once. He was still recovering from the shock of being contacted by a man he hadn’t heard from in almost a decade and now he was being offered the chance to do something with a real NFL team? Am I already dreaming? It seemed like the only way any of this would actually make any sense, but he knew that he was very much still awake, albeit dressed for bed and ready to brush his teeth. “Uh, what kind of opportunity?” he queried, glancing at his wide-eyed face in the mirror. It seemed hard to believe that he’d be well-suited for anything other than a towel boy, and surely there was someone more local who could be called upon for that!
Just as Robin remembered, Mr Addison was all business: “You’ll be working with me to help kick the defense into gear. I’ll be in contact tomorrow with the specific details, but I’m afraid I need a yes or no from you now if I’m going to get things organised. I’ve already cleared everything with your Pops and he’s on board.”
The sudden surge of overwhelming emotions brought tears into Robin’s eyes. He couldn’t possibly imagine how he could be any help to a professional NFL coach, but if his dad had agreed that it was a suitable opportunity for him… well, there was only one answer he could possibly give: “I’m your man, Mr Addison. I’ll do it!”
“You just made the best decision of your life, kid,” the older man declared, leading Robin to detect something that might have even passed as pride in the other’s voice. “You’ll be hearing from me nice and early so you better get some rest while you can. Don’t leave the house or talk to anyone else about this until we’ve spoken, understood?”
The coach’s requests were momentarily baffling to Robin before he came to the conclusion that it made sense for an NFL position to involve secrecy. Willing to do anything to secure the exciting new opportunity, the art student hastily agreed. He’d contact his father right after speaking to Mr Addison again the next morning, and together they could organise his travel from Arizona to California. His dad probably already knew more than he did, but Mr Addison had been clear in his instructions not to talk to anyone, and Robin was always the type to play it safe rather than end up sorry.
The call ended shortly after that and although he was buzzing with anticipation for what his next conversation with Mr Addison would bring, Robin was also acutely aware of a sudden tiredness that had crept upon him. Stifling a yawn, he quickly brushed his teeth in the tiny en-suite bathroom attached to his dorm room and then staggered back towards his bed. It was mere moments after Robin’s head hit the pillow that he was carried off into a land of dreams and an incredible future...
Comments
Henry Cavanaugh
Thank you so much man, I hope it doesn't disappoint!
Ninjakeyblder
Great first 2 chapters! I can't wait to see where this goes!!!
