Seam Route

chapter four

Parker

We've been doing summer training for about two weeks and the guys are still choppy and under conditioned.

After some lacklustre cardio workouts were being pushed off to get into the weight room which most of the guys prefer.

Me? I'm fucking pissed off.

Yeah I'm a rookie, so surely I don't have a right to be pissed. I should have my tail in between my legs. But I fucking can't and I won't.

I'm the fucking first overall pick that nobody including me fucking wanted here. I don't have the time to be reminded of my faults. It's football or nothing. It's everything and I refuse to go back to nothing.

I quickly check my phone to see a notification. It's a text message from my agent with a link to an article.

Parker McIntosh and The New York Jets. Nobody wants him; A tale of a future bust and a hopeless franchise.

What a glowing fucking review of me!

Another glaring reminder from the media that I've become hated overnight. Apparently my lack of cheesy grins and discontent to New York during the draft has put a microscope onto me.

Sure these past few weeks as a team we've made progress albeit it's too fucking slow.

We need to at least make playoffs this year, and owe it to the fans to put them out of their misery.

And some of these guys are way too content with getting their little paycheck and flashing their money. It's like once they made the league they don't care about the game of football or even helping out people in need like they once were.

Fuck, I can't stand it actually. They gawk at me when I get past them too easily and compliment me when in reality they should be upset that they didn't stop a rookie from torching them.

I look over to my left to see my other teammates laughing with the newly signed other rookies. I watch the other rookies red faced and nervous as the older guys give them shit.

"They're just having fun," Marty tries to reason with me.

I think Marty and I are the only players who have a fucking future here. The rest of them are fodder to me.

"Fun isn't enough. Our team is universally known as an fucking awful team. When the season starts and results start going our way then we can have fun." I take a sip of my protein shake, "Half-assed workouts are not enough."

We make our way into the state-of-the-art gym filled with anything and everything you could ever need.

"Well, lotta  them don't have a stick up high in their ass as you got." Marty chuckles, "They don't know how Mr. first overall pick functions."

I finish my protein shake before heading straight to the dumbbell rack and grabbed two huge and heavy weights for warm-up.

While holding the weights someone bumps into me, I look down only to find that it's Roy. He's one of the backup wide receivers. He's a few years older than me but still has yet to break out and become a starter. He's pretty fast yet lacks the footwork to beat out seasoned corner backs.

"Sorry," His eyes widen immediately and he takes a step back. "I didn't mean to bump into you." He speaks very quickly and averts his eyes downwards.

"Okay."

He takes some dumbbells before scurrying off back to go work out with other teammates.

"Lord," Marty snorts, "That boy's scared shitless of you."