Chapter 87: Preseason Preparations

Chapter update is here.

Find a quiet spot, turn the page, and let’s see what this story has been hiding 🌙

✦

New Orleans, Louisiana. Audubon Park, near the Mississippi River.

In the thin morning fog, a middle-aged man and three young men ran along the park path through air heavy with damp earth and green leaves. Sweat had soaked the front of all four shirts, but their heavy breathing did not break their rhythm. They ran toward the rising sun as the light sharpened through the trees.

Archie Manning’s watch beeped.

"Time."

The middle-aged man braced both hands on his knees, panting. Once, he had been proud of his endurance. Now he had to admit what time and old injuries had done to his body.

He was not young anymore.

"Breakfast," he said, straightening with one hand at his back.

"No. Not enough."

Peyton Manning jogged in place, sweat dotting his forehead, then clenched his teeth and turned forward again.

Whenever he thought about resting, the same question came to him.

’What would Nolan Callahan be doing right now?’

That faint sense of danger kept driving him toward the next target.

"Wait for me!"

Eli Manning chased after his brother. Compared with Peyton, he was quicker on his feet. His talent was not lesser; Peyton’s light simply burned so brightly that it covered him.

Now Eli had a new thought of his own.

He wanted to beat the opponent who had once beaten his brother.

"Dad, go back first," Cooper Manning called.

The oldest son was still the thoughtful one. Then he lengthened his stride and followed the two younger brothers.

Archie shook his head.

Maybe he was getting older, but he was lucky enough to watch the next generation rise. They would stand on their fathers’ shoulders and chase new glory.

Besides, he was not that old.

Archie Manning started running again, moving toward the morning sun the way he had in New Orleans high school thirty years earlier.

At nine that morning, in a church near De La Salle High School in California, Bob Ladouceur stood before the congregation and told a familiar story of discipline.

He spoke of Paul’s words in Philippians: not that he had already arrived, not that he was already complete, but that he kept pressing forward, forgetting what lay behind and reaching for what came ahead.

Ladouceur’s voice carried through the sanctuary. When he finished, applause filled the room.

San Mateo, California.

"Tom, breakfast!"

His mother’s voice came faintly from outside the room.

Tom Brady answered without really hearing her. Every ounce of attention remained fixed on the last card in his hand.

He placed it carefully at the top of the tower.

The card settled.

In the high-schooler’s bedroom stood a huge house of cards, tall enough that Tom had to stand on the bed to reach the top.

Yes.

Tom Brady made the smallest fist pump imaginable, afraid to release even a breath too loudly.

Building a tower that high from loose cards required patience, steady hands, and a calm heart. It had taken him all night.

"I said come down and eat!"

The door opened. His mother’s voice became immediate and real.

The small draft created by the door passed through the room.

The tower collapsed.

At the same time, on gravel roads in wide-open Utah, on beaches in the heat of Hawaii, in empty valleys in Nevada, and across cactus-lined desert in Arizona, countless young players were working for the new season. Some were unknown. Some were already beginning to show their names.

And while those future opponents trained without pause, Nolan had only just woken from a comfortable sleep.

"Sleeping in again."

Katherine entered and tossed his clothes onto him.

Jennifer had a full day of recording, Katherine had one of her rare free days, and William had already gone out. That meant Katherine could walk in without pretending.

"Today, no matter what you say, I am supervising your training," she said, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling Nolan’s face into ridiculous shapes. "You are not wasting your football skills over summer break."

"I have important business today. Principal John invited us to his house. We need to discuss the new season."

The official topic was the new season.

The real topic was whether Nolan would stay at BHHS.

"Yesterday you said you needed to review the intermediary offers. The day before that you had the interview. And the day before..."

Katherine meant to lecture him, then stopped.

That day, the two of them had spent the whole day at Forever Love Inn.

"I do not care," she said. "When we get back tonight, we are reviewing properly."

"Speaking of that, have you noticed my body has gotten stronger again?"

Nolan flexed one arm. His biceps rose with an almost exaggerated swell.

He probably had Katherine, Lisa, Susan, and Penny to thank. He had certainly been exercising over the past few days, and not lightly. There was no soreness in his waist or back. If anything, his head felt clearer.

"Some people are just naturally strong," Katherine said. "A little training gives them excellent results."

She could not deny that part. She had experienced it directly.

But even high efficiency required actual training.

And Nolan’s idea of training was becoming suspicious.

"Also," he said, cutting off her thoughts, "John told me to bring a guardian. Mia is at work. Come with me?"

Katherine agreed immediately.

Then she noticed the large plastic bag on the table. Nolan had been carrying it the night before when he picked her up.

When he told her the gifts had come from several universities, she opened it at once.

Each item had been packed in a gift box printed with a school’s name.

Ohio State. Oklahoma State. Michigan State. USC and UCLA, naturally. Berkeley too.

The boxes held various gifts. The most expensive was an IWC watch from UCLA, worth about three thousand dollars by Katherine’s estimate. The rest were smaller items: Walmart vouchers, an Armani wallet, little things that added up to roughly five thousand dollars.

Along with the gifts came glossy school brochures and greeting cards with contact information for admissions assistants.

There was also the payout from Murphy’s pool and the separate thirty-thousand-dollar support John had promised before. Between all of it, Nolan’s personal cash pile had climbed to around a hundred and eighty thousand dollars. He had the powerful Braves to thank for keeping the odds interesting before the game.

One football game had earned enough to pay Katherine’s tuition for a year with money left over.

"Having a brother like that is an honor," John said later from his chair.

"Thank you."

Katherine accepted the black tea Grace had brewed.

"Thomas told me you were the one who recommended Nolan for the football team?"

"At the time, I only thought football came with extra meal support," Katherine said with a modest smile. "I never imagined Nolan would surprise everyone this much."

Looking back, all of this had happened only two months ago. To Katherine, those two months already felt like a beautiful dream.

John then asked about her family situation, whether things had improved, and where she planned to attend college.

Katherine answered each question and, as Nolan had instructed beforehand, carefully avoided mentioning the two-hundred-thousand-dollar screenplay sale.

Nolan looked toward Grace.

After serving the tea, she had not left. She sat beside her father. Under ordinary circumstances, the cheer coach should not have been part of this meeting.

"Katherine," Grace asked, "are you planning to keep playing volleyball?"

"Not right now. If Yale needs me, I would not mind returning to the court."

"Time moves so fast," Grace said. "I still remember when you first enrolled. If you had not been so tall, you absolutely would have been cheer captain."

Habit pulled her back to cheerleading again.

John cleared his throat.

"Right," Grace said. "I should reintroduce myself. I am now BHHS’s interim athletic director, while also remaining cheer coach."

’So the previous athletic director was officially forced out for hurting the school’s interests.’ Nolan thought.

"Grace has worked at the school for years," John added at once. "She is diligent and understands our programs. Her appointment has already been approved by the board."

Nolan did not waste time.

"In that case, I would like to ask the new athletic director what plans she has for preparing the football team for next season. The Normans have four starters who were injured last year and cannot be treated as certain, and the average level of the roster is not especially high. If we plan to chase a CIF-SS divisional title this year, we need transfers."

"When the All-Star game ended," Grace said, "Alberto from Santa Ana contacted me. He said he wants to transfer to BHHS."

John’s eyes brightened. He nodded immediately.

"Approved. The school will welcome him."

An All-Star level defensive end was not something BHHS could refuse.

"And if other suitable players also want to transfer?"

"If they are suitable," John said, almost thumping his chest, "the school will offer conditions that do not lose to any West Coast private school."

He nudged his daughter with an elbow.

Grace finally reacted and nodded.

"The principal is right."

Once the subject of teammates ended, John guided the conversation to Nolan. This was the true centerpiece of the visit.

If Nolan could not be kept at BHHS, everything else meant little.

"I do want to stay," Nolan said, smiling with just enough embarrassment. "But you know my family situation."

"The school understands," John said. "Where we can support you, we will. Tuition, athletic insurance, legitimate assistance tied to need and participation, and the support package I promised before will all remain in place. Over your remaining time here, the total campus-aid structure can reach one hundred thousand dollars. Even Peyton Manning did not have a better arrangement."

As a private school, BHHS was also a business.

Nolan was already a star. Over two years, how much attendance could he bring? That did not even include CIF broadcast revenue or merchandise.

More important was the invisible asset he created. A powerful team attracted more talented students, which formed a cycle. That meant ongoing income.

Seen that way, one hundred thousand dollars over two years was not excessive.

"That..."

Nolan showed hesitation.

Katherine spoke at exactly the right moment.

"Nolan, maybe we should forget it. Mater Dei in Santa Ana, Mission Viejo, Long Beach Poly, Sierra Canyon, De La Salle, even St. John Bosco from Bellflower have all contacted us. Their support is not low either."

Nolan had told her to say it. The two of them played good cop and hard negotiator together. Katherine had already graduated, so she did not mind being the difficult one.

John did not panic.

"Most of those are nearby schools. Do you think I do not know what they can afford? One hundred thousand dollars would make most of them sell the furniture. As for De La Salle, if your whole family wants to move to Northern California and enroll near a Catholic high school, then I can only wish Nolan luck."

John had spent too many years in education to be fooled by local posturing.

De La Salle was stronger, but it was far from Los Angeles and Catholic. Nolan would not transfer there.

John knew he had leverage.

He nudged Grace again.

Grace had drifted away mentally. She snapped back and said, "I agree with the principal."

John sighed.

Seeing the negotiation slide into the old principal’s hands, Nolan turned calmly to Grace.

"Why did the former athletic director leave?"

"Kickbacks," Grace said. "He worked quietly with an oil company and damaged the school’s interests."

Nolan already knew pieces of that. The hotel where the Burbank team had stayed, the conversation between Reese and his mother under the desk, Flea’s inside information: all of it pointed to this result.

"How much did the school lose every year because of that?"

John cleared his throat.

Unfortunately, Grace did not catch the warning.

"The assessment says between two hundred and three hundred thousand dollars a year."

Nolan nodded.

"That happened because of an anonymous tip I sent. I did not expect it to unfold this way, but the result did help the school."

John heard that for the first time, but he reacted quickly.

"The school will express its gratitude separately."

"And that recovered money can feed back into the team," Nolan said. "Along with the extra revenue I bring."

John became tense.

Nolan had touched the core of the negotiation.

"Of course," Nolan continued, "I am also grateful to the school. To show my commitment, I can sign an additional agreement that gives the school and its boosters a clean framework for future education, family, and media support. Broader football revenue can speak for itself."

In the end, Nolan and the school represented by John settled the structure.

If Nolan led the team to both a CIF-SS divisional championship and the national title conversation this year, the boosters would prepare a deferred education-and-family support pool with an outside value of six hundred thousand dollars, handled through review instead of as an immediate player bonus. If the team reached only one of those heights, the target would be cut in half.

It was not all Nolan wanted.

He looked at Grace across the room.

She still seemed distracted. The details of the negotiation had been handled entirely by John, not by the nominal athletic director sitting beside him. In truth, those matters should have been hers to discuss.

Nolan had a feeling Grace might be his opening.

✦

✦

✦

Ready for more?

The next Chapters are already waiting on my Patreon, along with early access, previews, and extra story updates 🗝️

/cw/TheBacklotFanfiction