Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Sure, meeting retired legends like Quinn Bailey is a dream come true. But I’m not going to kid myself—knowing Lexi is here sealed the deal.
Some people think the Mavericks should change their long-standing tradition of starting the annual kids camp on Memorial Day. It’s a disservice to those the day honors. It’s a day normally spent with family. Blah, blah, blah.
But to kids like me, who’ve looked up to some of these guys since they were three or four years old, football like this is family. I watched them on TV, rooted for them in Super Bowls, and followed their careers as they retired. I bonded with my dad over conversations about plays and going to witness them play in person, and I watched as service members were honored at their games.
Being here with them today is a dream come true, and I know, with every fiber of my being, the Mavericks will do the Memorial aspect of today right.
Add in the fact that I’ve kissed Lexi Winslow—stepdaughter of the Mavs’ owner—and today feels like I’m living in some kind of fever dream.
“Blake Boden?” a strong male voice asks from behind me as I dump the bag of footballs in the north end zone of Mavericks Stadium to get ready for our first drills after warming up. I stand and spin from my squat, my eyes widening on the vivacious, charismatic face of retired Mavericks quarterback Quinn Bailey. Affectionately, friends and family know him as QB.
I hold out a firm hand, belying the very shaking of my confidence upon meeting my idol. “Quinn Bailey. Excuse me for being so uncool, but holy fucking shit, is it a big deal to meet you.”
Quinn laughs, thank God, easing the tension in my shoulders and solidifying all the things I’ve heard about what a great guy he is over the years.
“I could say the same thing about you, Boden. I’ve watched what you’ve done with the Dragons since you got there, and I’ve got a tingly feeling this year is going to be your year.”
I smile so big my cheeks burn. “I sure hope so, sir.”
Quinn laughs again, waving a hand between us. “Please, for the love of God, don’t call me sir. I feel old enough as it is when it hurts to get out of bed in the morning. Stick with Quinn or QB.”
After years in New York playing for one of the best football teams in the country, Quinn’s southern twang has faded just a bit—I guess fifteen years surrounded by fuggettaboutits will do that to you. But I can still hear the hint of it in his every word, and the thought of possibly finding a home away from home with the Mavericks like he did makes me smile.
“Right. Quinn, then.” I shake my head, a rumble of laughter in my throat that makes Quinn freaking Bailey match my smile. I know there are other Mavericks alumni coming today, but for as exciting as that is, it could end right here, and I’d be a happy guy. “Thanks for coming today. I know meeting you has got to be a ton of these kids’ dreams come true.”
“I was that kid,” Quinn says simply. “We all were.”
“Yo! QB!” a big man with an even bigger smile calls from the tunnel behind Quinn. He’s got a beard and has changed his haircut, but Teeny Martinez is quite arguably one of the most recognizable faces in American football. He commentates some on Football Tonight now that he’s retired from the game, and just last weekend, he was at some concert dancing in a tracksuit in the middle of the band. He’s a personality and a half, and I’ve never met a single person who doesn’t love or idolize him.
“Teeny!” Quinn greets, doing the slap, handshake, hug thing you often see us men doing. They do a complicated handshake that ends in a spin, and Teeny finishes it off by holding out a hand for me to take. “Hey, Boden.”
“Teeny,” I say back, my face a layer of melting disbelief that all these guys know who I am. “Thanks for coming.”
“You bet, kid. Speaking of…where are the attendees? This isn’t some elaborate prank you’re pulling just to get some face time with me and QB, is it?”
I chuckle. “While I’m not entirely above that particular move, staging an entire kids camp through the Mavs organization is a little above my abilities. From what I understand, they were doing a meet-the-owner thing with Wes Lancaster and their parents first, touring the stadium, and then ending here, where Lexi is going to show them a highlight reel on the jumbotron before we get started.”
“Lex is coming?” Quinn asks excitedly. “That’s my girl!”
It’s an innocent statement from one of the people Lexi grew up around, and yet, I don’t like it.