Blackout by Jason Elam, Steve Yohn Read Free Book Online Page A

ago, said, “Go on in, Riley. He’s waiting for you.”
    â€œThanks,” Riley said as he knocked, then opened the next door.
    Coach Burton was sitting behind his desk. Behind him was a bank of video screens that received feeds from each of the position meeting rooms. The desk itself was piled with large stacks of paper, and the bookshelves surrounding him held playbook binders and DVDs.
    â€œSit down, Riley,” Burton said.
    As Riley moved to a chair, he decided to take the upper hand in the conversation. He was an elite veteran player, after all. Shouldn’t he have some say in his contract designation? “Listen, Coach, I think I know what this is about, and you need to know that I’m not happy about this whole franchising thing. First of all, I think the whole rule is—”
    â€œYou’re being traded,” Burton said.
    Riley stopped cold. He wanted to ask the coach if he was joking, but Burton’s face made it clear he wasn’t. “I’m being . . .”
    Burton leaned back in his chair. “I’m sorry, son. This is not my decision. You are a great player and a good person. You’re also an American hero, and it’s been an honor to have you playing on my team.”
    â€œI’m being . . .” Riley’s body had taken on a lightness that made it feel as if he were dreaming. Wake up! Come on—wake up!
    â€œI don’t even know the terms of the deal—it’s something Mr. Salley and the Washington Warriors’ owner, Rick Bellefeuille, have worked out.”
    â€œWashington?” Wake up; wake up; wake up!
    â€œAnd I know this is a lot to ask, but Mr. Salley is insistent. Because of the fallout that’s going to result from this, Mr. Salley has asked that you don’t mention the trade to anybody—particularly not to your teammates or the media. You’re obviously excused from any more practices or workouts, and you don’t have to report to the Warriors until training camp starts. Take the time to get away. To process. To get used to the idea.”
    â€œI still don’t understand. Why?”
    Burton, who was obviously disgusted by the whole thing and just wanted it over with, finally lost his patience. “I don’t know why, Riley! It’s the nature of the game! Players come and players go, and it’s your time to go, okay? I’m not happy about this; you’re not happy about this. But what am I going to do?”
    Riley sat glaring at the man. He wanted to throw something, maybe sweep the stacks of papers and binders off the desk, break a monitor or two. But he just sat. The man’s right. What’s he going to do? What am I going to do?
    â€œWhen you leave today, just make it seem like any other day. Don’t clear out your locker. We’ll do it later and send everything to you. Mr. Salley wanted me to threaten you with all sorts of financial things if you say anything, but I know you better than that. You’re a man of integrity. I know you’ll do the right thing.”
    Yeah, you know where you can stick that “man of integrity” thing! I’ll say what I think I need to say to anyone who I think needs to hear it, Riley thought, knowing deep down that he was going to end up doing exactly what was asked of him. This was the nature of the game, after all.
    Coach Burton stood up and extended his hand across his desk. “It’s been a pleasure coaching you, son. I hope someday to get a chance to do it again.”
    Riley stood also and shook Burton’s hand, all the while mumbling something about it “being an honor” and “let’s hope so.”
    As he walked out of the office, he was in a daze. He heard Karen Watkins say something to him, but he didn’t acknowledge her.
    For the past few months, he had been wrestling with whether football was still for him. Many times he had considered leaving the Mustangs and