NFL Confidential: True Confessions from the Gutter of Football by Anonymous Johnny

Author:Anonymous, Johnny [Anonymous, Johnny]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9780062422422
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2016-01-04T16:00:00+00:00

THE NEXT DAY, BERNIE the agent calls.

“Johnny,” he says, “this is the chance you’ve been waiting for.”

That’s right, agents actually say shit like that. As you may have guessed, I’ve never told Bernie how I really feel about football.

“But,” he says, “that means now you gotta play all those political games you hate so much.”

Okay, so some things are impossible for me to hide.

“Bernie,” I say. “I can’t. I am physically, genetically unable to kiss ass.”

“I know,” he says before he hangs up. “Do it anyway.”

The way Bernie sees it—hell, the way I saw it until I decided to chase My Glorious Backup Dream™—the whole point of being a backup is to try to become a starter. Not because we should always strive to be “better men” or some shit like that, but because contract starters get paid a ton more money than the ones riding the pine. I’m talking at least $1.5 million a year. At least. The right opportunity, and I could get all the way up to $7 million as a center.

To get me (and him) that starter money, Bernie needs to get me a new contract with a new team next season. To get me that new contract, Bernie needs to show other teams that I can play. He needs game tape.

For the last two years, he hasn’t had it. I mean, I’ve been a backup for fuck’s sake—the whole purpose of my existence was not to play. Now I finally got my shot. I’m gonna start, I’m gonna play, I’m gonna get more game tape than I know what to do with. And if I play well, if I rack up enough highlights, if I prove that I’m capable of doing everything I know I can do . . . Fuck. I could become a permanent starter. I could end up playing in the League for another five or ten years, making big-time money.

Forget about being the Best NFL Backup Ever™. I could be the Fucking Man™.

Shit, until just a month ago, there was a good chance I was never gonna pick up a football again. Never watch another game for the rest of my life! Now all of a sudden . . . this?

I feel like Al Pacino in The Godfather 3. Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in! Except without the ridiculous overacting. But potentially with a hell of a lot more long-term brain damage.

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