Blown Coverage by Jason Elam Read Free Book Online

seat.
    Riley glared at him in response.
    Deep down, Riley knew the reason for his dread. There were still deep wounds from the end of last season—the attack on Platte
     River Stadium, his own experience of being held hostage and tortured, the betrayal and death of people he loved. Lord, please give me the strength to follow through with the calling You’ve given me. Help me be a light, even when I feel the darkness permeating my very soul.
    Riley turned on his stereo and pushed the button for disc five. The stark snare-drum opening of U2’s War album filled the interior of his black Yukon Denali. Riley used the steering wheel as his own snare and began singing along
     when Bono’s voice launched in.
    Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a smirk form on Skeeter’s forward-looking face. Riley pretended to ignore him. If I’m going to have to live with this giant walking shadow, he’s going to have to deal with my habits. I’ve already lost my privacy. I’m not going to sit here and shut up just because he’s riding shotgun.
    Riley kept singing in his off-key baritone, slipping into an auditorily uncomfortable falsetto when Bono rose out of his range.
     However, when the song reached its chorus, Riley quickly hit the power button. “Sunday Bloody Sunday” ventured a little too
     close to what he was trying to forget.
    Unfortunately, the silence left him alone with his thoughts.
    Another issue that concerned him was having to face the coaching staff and Robert Taylor, the Mustangs’ public relations manager.
     It had been two weeks since Riley had returned any of their phone calls—something he was sure he’d have to answer for this
     morning.
    The reason for his prolonged silence was that as late as this morning, he still wasn’t sure what he was going to do about
     football. At 7:30 a.m., Riley had been on a conference iChat with his parents and his grandpa. During the off-season, he had
     purchased MacBooks for all of them so that they could better keep in contact through the video-chatting program.
    From the left side of his laptop screen, Mom and Dad had both wished him well for the day and said they’d be praying for him.
     But it was Grandpa’s words from the right side of the monitor that had stuck with him.
    “I know today is going to be a tough day for you, son. Your folks and I just want you to know how proud we are of you. As
     you head out today, try to keep your eye on the big picture. We’ve talked before about how, from time to time, you’re going
     to face situations that may seem too much to take. It’s times like this you’ve got to remember that God won’t give you more
     than you can handle. He’s promised that, so you can take it to the bank.”
    “Yeah, I know, Grandpa,” Riley had replied. “I just don’t know if I still have football in me.”
    Grandpa had smiled and said, “I understand. A lot has happened. I was just thinking back to the day you were drafted. Remember
     the excitement you felt? The feeling of a dream coming true? The Mustangs fulfilled that dream of yours. When you finally
     signed that contract with them, you were telling them that in return for that dream, you would give them your best. Riley,
     as long as you are out there giving your best, your best will always be good enough.”
    After disconnecting the videoconference, Riley had sat at his kitchen table rubbing his face with his hands. Riley knew Grandpa
     was right. He had made a commitment, something he didn’t take lightly. A quick prayer later, he had gathered up Skeeter and
     his gear and headed toward the garage.
    Now that he was so close to Inverness Training Center, the apprehension was growing stronger than ever. He knew there would
     be unpleasant people he would have to see and verbal lumps he would have to take. But there was one group of people that he
     just didn’t have the strength to deal with this first day back. So for the last five minutes of his trip to the training