The Quarterback Ch. 02

"Are you Jason Saunders?" an older man asked.

When I nodded, he handed me the package and said, "You've been served." Then he took a picture of me with his cell phone. Staci had pulled the trigger on our divorce. As bad as the divorce was, worse news was relayed to me the following day.

I got a call from one of the Giants players I knew from my time in New York. He told me that Jimmy Washington had been in the locker room bragging that Staci was now his girlfriend and had just moved into his apartment with him. Fucking Jimmy Washington had done it to me again.

I learned the news about Staci and Jimmy on Saturday, and on Sunday, I was wheeled off the field with what I figured was a career-ending injury. The team doctor examined my knee and had me transported immediately to the hospital. There, they determined that I had torn my ACL. They operated on my knee the following day. I was told that the recovery time varied but could take two to nine months.

I was sure that no one would want a damaged backup quarterback. And this belief was reinforced when the Eagles paid me the balance of my contract and released me. Even though I had taken them within one game of reaching the Super Bowl the year before, I was gone. You would think that some team would look at that and that I had won a Super Bowl game and make a play for me. But that is not how the NFL works. There are thousands of guys with more talent than half of those playing in the league, but they never got an opportunity to show what they could do. Coaches are human, and they make a lot of mistakes, especially when it comes to evaluating talent. That is why so many draft picks do not pan out.

I knew this, and it should not have bothered me, but it did. Still, I could only control so much, and right now, I had to work on rehabbing my knee. Even if I never played another football game, I did not want to wind up with a permanent limp. And while I was doing my rehab, I had to figure out what to do next. And I hadn't forgotten about Jimmy. Somehow, someway, I was going to pay that fucker back. And Staci was going to get hers too. But, right now, I could think of nothing I could do to inflict some of the pain on them that they had inflicted on me.

A week after the season ended, I read in the paper that the Tampa Bay Buccaneers had fired coach Sullivan. He had a winning season every year except this past one. And the team had suffered so many injuries, especially on the offensive line, it was a testament to his coaching skill that they finished the season 7 - 10. And in three of those games, they lost by a total of five points. And in one game, Tampa lost on a horrendous call by the refs. On a fourth and nine play, with thirteen seconds to play, Tampa got flagged for roughing the passer. But the replay showed that the defensive end had been pushed into the quarterback. That penalty gave Atlanta four more downs, which allowed them to move into field goal range. Atlanta made the field goal and won the game by one point.

I felt sorry for coach Sullivan, but I had my own problems. I faced months of physical therapy, starting while I was still on crutches. As per the collective agreement between the NFL and the players, the Eagles would pay for my physical rehabilitation. They offered to set it up in Philadelphia, but I wanted to return to my condo in Jacksonville. I had thought of selling condo dozens of times, but now I am glad I didn't. It was part of a quad, and it was all on one floor, making it easy for me to get around.

Once I was set up in Jacksonville, the Eagles paid for a trainer to work with me at home for the first couple of weeks. After that, they set me up with a rehab center near my condo. My first visit to the center was heartwarming. I was so down because of my divorce and the injury that I had isolated myself. But when I walked into the center, the patients, doctors, nurses, and therapists were thrilled to see me. I was about twenty minutes late for my appointment because I was signing autographs.

After two months, the doctors released me with a list of exercises for me to continue by myself. It was hard to work out alone, but I knew I had to do it. By three months, the doctors let me start jogging, and by the fourth month, I was sprinting. And I had to admit that my leg felt pretty good. Still, the pain of the divorce dogged me. And the loneliness would almost crush me at night.

I continued rehabbing at the local high school and a gym I had joined. When the high school football players found out, they started coming out to watch me. Then I started working with them. I taught the quarterbacks how to release the ball quicker and read defenses better. I worked with the receivers, which was fun. I taught them to catch the ball with their hands and not let it get to their body if possible.

Someone must have alerted a local television station. Because one day, they showed up and did a piece on how I had turned my rehabilitation into training sessions for the local football team. I watched it that night and thought it was nice. But I was surprised by two results of that television piece.

The first thing that happened sort of blindsided me. I was stretching the next day, but when I looked up, I found Charlotte looking at me with a nervous smile.

"Hi, Jason," Charlotte said with uncertainty in her eyes. "It's good to see you."

Even though I was surprised when Charlotte showed up, I simply nodded and asked, "What brings you here today?"

"I wanted to see you. I wanted to ask you to forgive me for not trusting you."

I thought for a couple of seconds and then shrugged. "Okay, I forgive you. But just for my edification, why do you believe me now?"

Charlotte blushed. "I am ashamed to admit it, but I didn't until my father hired a private investigator who interviewed the woman in the picture. She admitted that Jimmy paid her to ambush you."

"That fucker!" I blurted out. "Sorry. I'm not surprised he was behind it, but it pisses the shit out of me. Well, that's water under the bridge at this point. I should get back to practice. It was nice to see you, Charlotte. Say hello to your father for me."

Charlotte looked at me with sadness and uncertainty. "Jason, do you think we could go for coffee or lunch sometime and just talk?"

"I don't think that's a good idea, Charlotte. I am sure you have heard about my impending divorce. Anyway, I am kind of in a bad place regarding the female of the species. The two women that I gave my heart to just up and kicked me to the curb. So, I think I will keep to myself for a while.

I saw the tears forming in Charlotte's eyes as she turned and walked off the field. I did feel a twinge for her, but I was still struggling with my divorce. However, I did notice that Charlotte showed up at the field for the next three days and sat in the stand watching me. She did not try to talk to me but watched everything I did.

I was expecting a call from my parents Friday evening, but I was totally surprised when I saw the name on my cell phone screen. It was coach Sullivan. He asked if we could have lunch together the following day. I, of course, agreed even though I had no idea why he wanted to see me. Still, I was looking forward to the meeting because I intended to tell him I thought they were assholes in Tampa.

After we ordered and we had a little chit-chat, coach Sullivan asked me about my knee.

"The knee's good," I told him. I can do anything, including sprinting. I ice it each evening even though there has not been any pain or swelling for a couple of months. During my last visit to my doctor, he told me I was ninety-nine-point-nine percent back."

The coach smiled. "I saw the piece about you with the high school football players. I was impressed by that bomb you tossed fifty yards into that kid's hands. Too bad he couldn't hold onto it."

I chuckled. "It wasn't the kid's fault. The guy covering was climbing all over him."

"True," the coach smiled and then sat back and studied me. "Jason, I'm going to tell you something I'd like you to keep under your hat until tomorrow night."

When I nodded, the coach had a bombshell for me. "Tomorrow, I will be named the head coach of the Jacksonville Jaguars. And when I take over, I want to bring you into camp. I can't promise anything, but I have always thought of you as a quality NFL quarterback. And I'm going, to be honest with you, Jacksonville's cap situation is not good."

I knew that each NFL team had to watch how much they spent on their players. This upcoming season NFL teams were only allowed to spend two hundred and fourteen million dollars on player salaries. It is somewhat complicated how they figure the cap, but there are severe penalties if a team goes over it. For the coming season, the Jaguars were less than a million dollars under the cap. They would have to restructure contracts, trade players, or cut them to keep under.

"The reason I'm talking to you about this," the coach continued, "is that I don't want to lose you to another team."

"I don't think you have to worry about that, coach. Nobody's beating down my door because they consider me damaged goods."

The coach smiled. "Yeah, well, if they come sniffing around, I want you to know what my offer will be before you accept anything else. I will guarantee you $50,000 just to come to the training camp. If you make the team, I will guarantee you $800,000. If you are still with the team at the end of the season, you will get another $700,000. Also, I will put in bonus clauses based on performance."

"I think you can count on me, coach," I said with a silly grin. "Firstly, I seriously doubt that any teams will come knocking. Hell, I had pretty much accepted that my NFL career was over. But even if some other team makes an offer, it will have to be a hell of a lot better than what you are proposing because I know I'll get a fair shot with you."

We parted with the first bit of good news in my life in the last three months. And a week later, it got more interesting. Coach Sullivan called me and set me to start working with three receivers still on the Jaguar's rooster - Tuck Turner, Billy Swill, and Akim Lucker. Since I was not allowed to use the facilities at the Jaguars' field, we decided to move our practices to a public park. And I was surprised that Charlotte somehow found out where we were practicing and continued to show up.

After the first practice with the three receivers, I found that I liked Tuck and Billy, but Akim was a pain in the ass. Tuck was almost as fast as Jimmy, but his route running was spotty. Billy was not fast, but he was quick off the line and ran great routes. Akim was faster than Jimmy ever was but he ran crap routes. You were never sure exactly where Akim would be. But he did have very soft hands. His problem was that he thought he was God's gift to everyone. He had a short fuse and was a showoff.

Sometimes when we practiced, I would let the high school kids fill in, mostly at the safety and cornerback positions. I also let the high school defensive linemen come after me. The rule was that they had to wait three seconds before rushing me, and there was no hitting. But on one play, Akim pissed the shit out of me. This one high school safety managed to bat a ball out of Akim's hands, pissing him off. I did not realize that Akim was furious and took it out on the kid in the next play. He ran over him at full speed even though the ball was not thrown in his direction. The kid went down hard.

I immediately ran to check on the young man. Thankfully, he was only shaken up. But I was beyond furious, and I turned on Akim.

"What the fuck's wrong with you?" I screamed at him.

"What?" he tried to play innocent. "We just got tangled up."

"You did it on purpose! Practice is over!" I then took the boy home. When I got to the boy's house, I explained what had happened to his mother and apologized. I told her to give me a call if her son had to go to the doctor because I would pay for it. I never heard from her, so I guess he was okay. But I was still furious with Akim.

I called coach Sullivan that night and told him what happened. I told him I did not want to practice with that asshole until training camp. Thankfully, the coach told me Akim would no longer be part of our practices.

Within a week of taking over the Jaguars, coach Sullivan made two blockbuster trades. He traded our pro bowl Defensive tackle to Houston for the eleventh pick in the draft and Akim to the Raiders for the third pick in the second round. The consensus in the sports world was that coach Sullivan had lost his mind. He had traded away the only Pro Bowl players on the team. And Akim had caught passes for over a thousand yards with seven touchdowns the past season.

When the draft started, coach Sullivan traded up from the seventh position to the fifth to take Joe Connors, a quarterback from the University of Tennessee. In addition to giving up the seventh pick, coach Sullivan gave up a third-round pick for that year and a second-round pick in next year's draft. Then with the eleventh pick in the first round, the Jaguars got the best safety, Todd Stiles. And with the third pick in the second round, coach Sullivan selected Hubbert "Hump" Jackson, the third-best offensive lineman in the draft.

Coach Sullivan, once again, showed everyone how good he was at using the draft to fill his team with talent. Coach Sullivan selected a middle linebacker, Willie Mathews in the fifth round. He should have gone in the second round but was still available in the fifth because of concern about his injury history. In the sixth round, the Jaguars took a six-foot six-inch tight end, Matt Bradford, from a division three school that no one had ever heard about.

I continued to work out in the park and was surprised to see Charlotte there most of the time. About a month before training camp, I was signed to the contract coach Sullivan had promised. It was there that I got my first view of Joe Connors, and I was impressed. He had talent, and Joe was smart, but he also had some rough edges.

We lost all three of the preseason games. Still, Joe flashed occasionally, and I played well, throwing a touchdown pass in each game while only throwing one interception. And when the teams were forced to cut their roosters down to fifty-three men, I was still there. The $700,000 was now guaranteed.

As I expected, Joe was named the starting quarterback. I did not think it was a good idea, and I was pretty sure the coach did not think it was a good idea either. However, management insisted on it. Joe threw two interceptions and was sacked four times. We lost to Tennessee 17 - 0. At least our defense looked good.

The following Monday, coach Sullivan called me to his office and told me I would be starting the next Sunday. However, he was looking for me to work with Joe to round off some of his rough edges. This was no burden for me. Once I learned what it took to be an NFL quarterback, I always tried to help anyone who asked me.

I was able to guide the team to four straight wins. But then we faced the New York Giants and Jimmy Washington. I wanted to beat the Giants so bad that I could taste it. But that was not to be. I played like shit and threw two interceptions. Jimmy seemed to be in my head, and I became hesitant about throwing to his side of the field. Jimmy picked off one of my throws and ran back for a touchdown. We lost the game 27 -17. The only consolation for me was that I threw one touchdown pass. But a loss is a loss.

That Sunday morning, I made a point of missing Staci's show. A few players told me that she had nicely stuck the knife in my back. She told her audience that the Giants were simply too strong for Jacksonville. And Staci told her audience that Jacksonville's biggest problem was me at quarterback.

The following Sunday, I took time to watch Staci's show. God, she was beautiful, and I still missed her. Staci went out of her way to praise Jimmy's performance and point out how poorly I had performed. That pissed me off royally. I know that I should not have let it bother me, but I could not keep from texting her. In the message, I said, "Nice show, too bad you do not know your ass from a hole in the wall. Oh wait, Jimmy will show you which is which." Staci was not amused. Her terse reply was simply, "Fuck You!!!!!" I had struck a nerve, and somehow, that helped my mood. Beating Philadelphia that week also helped.

The following week, Staci went on a full-out assault against me. She was all sweetness and light on air, but her assessment of me was brutal. However, she did it with such humor that everyone thought it was funny. That is everyone, except the Jacksonville fans and players. We came storming out and crushed the Baltimore Ravens 42 - 17. I threw for three hundred sixty-seven yards, two touchdowns, and no interceptions. During the postgame interview, I took a dig at Staci and said, "I guess Staci doesn't know football as well as she thinks she does."

I do not know if Staci decided that our feud would not help her career or if the orders came down from corporate, but in any event, she stopped talking about me. We won the next game also but lost the following three. Meanwhile, the Giants were cruising along. After years of floundering around, they were now the real deal.

While the season was moving along, something strange happened. I reconnected with Charlotte. Before training camp started, she continued to come to my impromptu practices. I figured that would end once we started practicing in the Jaguars' facilities. I did not hate Charlotte. In fact, I had never hated her. I had just been very sad when she rejected me, so when Staci came along, I moved on. Occasionally, I would think of the good times Charlotte, and I had.

The Monday morning after our second preseason game, I arrived early at the Jaguars' facilities to do some strength training. I have always believed that the better condition a player is in, the less likely they will be injured. However, I was surprised to find Charlotte running on a treadmill this morning.

She had turned when I entered the gym and smiled. I looked at her for a few seconds, trying to figure out how Charlotte had gotten past security. Not having a clue, I asked. "How did you get in here?"

"The security guard let me in," she replied evenly.

"I don't understand. The public isn't allowed into the stadium facilities."

"They've extended this privilege to some of their major sponsors," Charlotte explained. "I convinced Dad to buy the naming rights for the stadium. The stadium will become First Century Stadium when the current contract runs out. And because of that, I can use the facilities here if it does not interfere with team activities."

With a shrug, I went off to do my weight training. After about an hour, Charlotte gathered up her things and stopped by the machine I was working on.

"I just wanted to let you know that I'll be working out in the morning three or four times a week in case you want to avoid me."

I frowned at her. "We may not be together anymore, but I'm not angry at you. I was just disappointed and hurt that you didn't trust me."

"I understand," she said sadly. "And I don't blame you. I acted like a jealous schoolgirl. Maybe over time, we can be friends again."

"Yeah, I can see that," I said cautiously. "But right now, why don't we just keep it loose?"

Charlotte sighed and agreed. And so, a pattern was set. At first, we acknowledged each other and then went to our separate workout machines. Then we began talking a little when we both took a water break at the same time. Eventually, we started doing part of our workouts in proximity and talked some more. By the seventh game, we would have lunch together occasionally. I enjoyed my time with Charlotte, which helped me deal with the pain of losing Staci. But I still remembered the hurt when Charlotte kicked me to the curb without a word. I was not going to let that happen again.