The car warmed up quickly, though - all that money had to go for something, and soon I was driving at speed back toward the facility. Not too much traffic yet, people moving in and out trying to get to work and beat rush hour, and things got even better as I got closer to Foxboro.
I pulled into the facility, past the assigned parking spots for the front office, toward the players’ garage. There had originally been assigned spots in the players garage, but now they only made two distinctions - blank and ‘rookie.’ It felt really good to be able to park in the blank spots now, even if I occasionally had to fight for a spot.
When I pulled in I had about 30 minutes before my turn at the podium was scheduled to start. The first thing Coach Armstrong had made sure of when he arrived was that events and meetings at the Patriots facility would always begin exactly on time. If you were late to something you were supposed to be at, no matter if you were the starting quarterback, leader of the defense, or the greenest of rookies, you were sent home that day, and the next day you had to give the entire team a heartfelt apology.
That was how things worked around here now - personal responsibility. Some players couldn’t handle it - they were too wrapped up in living the glamorous lifestyle of a pro football player. Those players didn’t spend too much time in a Patriots uniform, and enjoyed themselves a whole lot more wearing another team’s colors.
But for a small number of players, that kind of strict rigidity made the game that much more exciting. I was one of those players.
I walked into the facility and quickly went to my room to grab a quick shower. The room was just as I’d left it, which made sense, because now that training camp was over, everyone else on the team had moved out. I was the only player still living at the facility, and I liked it that way.
Though I did miss my short term roommate, Drake Rollins. He and I hadn’t really gotten off on the right foot. Drake had come to the Patriots after falling out of the draft this year due to character concerns and off the field issues. Coach Armstrong had taken a flyer on him and Drake had shown up to training camp sure that he was the greatest receiver on Earth.
It had taken just a couple weeks for him to realize that we didn’t fuck around at the Patriots, and that he needed to buckle down and get to work if he wanted to make it as a pro player.
And then, to my astonishment, Drake had done just that. He’d buried his head in the playbook, attended every single meeting, worked hard on the field and in the weight room, and now he was one of my favorite receivers.
We’d started getting along really well there near the end of training camp, but just as I was starting to look forward to having a roommate who was as into focusing on football as I was, Drake had to go and get himself a girlfriend. Lily Pearson, the Boston Globe writer assigned to cover his story as he tried to make the Patriots, and Drake had fallen in love.
They’d even moved in together! I couldn’t begrudge the guy that, even I would have done the same thing under the circumstances. If anything, I was a little jealous of him. They looked so happy together and Drake was just a much more complete person now that he had Lily in his life.
He’d mentioned to me, totally off the record, that he was planning on proposing some time soon, he just wanted to make sure that he was gonna be with the Patriots a little longer before he did so. Then he had asked me to make sure and throw him as many touchdowns as I could this season. I had laughed and just said, “Drake, if you keep catching them I’ll keep throwing them,” and that was that.
So yeah, no roommate for me this year, just living alone in the empty player’s wing of the Patriots facility. Not too shabby, but nothing luxurious. The important part was that there weren’t any distractions.
Feeling the hot water rain down on me was amazing. Not that I wanted to get rid of Charlotte’s smell on me, far from it, but I just really enjoyed the cleansing and centering effects of a shower. I think that was the way with all athletes. Washing oneself off was like being reborn, ready and prepared for the next thing.
As I got out and got dressed, a little nicer than I’d normally wear, I got a heavy knock at my door. From the distinctive rhythm of the pounding, I knew exactly who it was.
“Door’s open, Hud, come in.” It always struck me as funny that a guy that was so big and gruff was also super polite.
Hudson Asher, Patriots linebacker, and one of my best friends on the team, opened the door and came bounding into the room, way too energetic for so early in the morning.