New Year's Day - 5. Vegas

Phil’s progression from high school bench warmer to college walk-on, substitute, and starter culminated in being voted Most Valuable Player at the Orange Bowl game. He knew it was all due to hard work. Where Riley was better at football basics, Phil had achieved what he had through exceptional effort. The two men grew closer the more time they spent together.

“One more lap, then we can finish off with burpees.”

“Geez, Martinez, are you trying to kill me?” Riley had reverted to calling Phil by his last name most of the time; he claimed it just fit better. He also admitted he had never worked so hard in his life. He might grumble, but Riley kept up with his friend every step of the way.

“Dude, no bitching, okay? You’ll thank me, our trainers, and even that woman who forces us to eat all that healthy shit, when you become a millionaire.” Projected as a top ten pick in the draft, Riley could expect top dollar. Under the collective bargaining agreement, his initial four-year contract would be worth close to forty million dollars. Most of it paid up front as a signing bonus.

At the end of February, Garrett flew to Indianapolis with his clients. While they toiled on the field and sat for countless interviews with interested teams, the agent worked behind the scenes. He warned teams west of the Mississippi the guys wanted to stay on the East Coast. The organizations needed to know that neither would be happy if drafted elsewhere. Phil would even consider entering law school, instead of playing in the west.

“The two of you have impressed scouts and reporters alike this week.” The woman from Sports Illustrated sat across from them while a photographer snapped pictures—an actual photoshoot would follow the interview. “Are you aware Riley’s now considered a top five pick and Phil’s expected to go in the first round instead of later? What do you attribute the marked improvement to?”

“Him.” They replied simultaneously and made themselves laugh.

Phil pointed at Riley while still chuckling. “You first.”

“Honestly? Meeting Martinez and his family was the best thing to happen to me. They have embraced me and made me feel at home while I’ve been away from my own parents and friends. And this man’s a slave driver. He’s the hardest worker I’ve ever met. His dedication to improving his game inspires me to work longer and harder myself.”

“Phil, are you going to turn this into a mutual admiration session?” The young woman had flirted prior to sitting down with them and seemed determined to land one or both.

Phil played along. “No turning into anything. The mutual respect is real. Riley’s knowledge of the game’s vastly superior to mine, and I’ve tried to learn from him. In the process, spending so much time together, he’s become my best friend.”

As the questioning wound down, the reporter explained the importance of the photo session. “Guys, this is going to be the cover article next Monday. ‘Foes 2 Bros’ will put you in front of a large readership. Expect a tsunami of fan mail.”

She was right. The avalanche of new social media followers and the ensuing messages was at first overwhelming. ”Bro, where do these people come from?” Riley shook his head while handing Phil his phone. “Check this one out.”

Back in Florida a few days after the interview the two had gone out to eat. They had gorged on Bar B Que, consuming more unhealthy food than they had in weeks. The living room couch beckoned, and both decided to tackle the day’s correspondence. “Dude! A mother and daughter team want to do you together?” Phil’s laughter reverberated through the room. “You need to turn off private messaging everywhere.”

“I will. But even then, the number of comments looks overwhelming. I can’t reply to everyone. It would take me hours.”

“Don’t bother. Do a few to show you’re reading and hit the other ones with likes or whatever. I’ve followed a few pros for a while and never heard a peep from them until the article appeared. I think they realized I‘d be joining the fraternity soon, so it was now cool to acknowledge me. Dickheads. I don’t want to be like that, though. Maybe we can ask Garrett—” The phone ringing interrupted him.

“Speak of the devil. Hey, Garrett. We were just talking about you.” Phil winked at Riley while nodding. “Sure. We’ll go for our morning run and meet you back here for breakfast.”

“He’s coming over tomorrow?” Riley turned off his phone and sighed. “Not in the mood for this crap right now. What’s he coming over for?”

Riley got his answer the next day. Part of it was a pair of post office trays filled with correspondence. “If it’s too much, I can send somebody to open them all up and figure out if anything really requires a response.”

“I’d like to look through these myself,” Riley said. “Maybe in the future we can find somebody to help. And with social media. I won’t be able to read all the comments all the time, but someone should.”

“Maybe Matt can give us a hand?” Phil’s brother had become a regular visitor and had crashed on their sofa more than once. “But I agree with Riley. With Matt’s help, we can handle it right now. But we’re gonna need help like tomorrow or the next day. Can we hire someone to work for both of us?”

“Just because we’re dialing back on the workouts doesn’t mean you two get to sit around reading fan mail.” Garrett had agreed the intensity of their training could be reduced. “I’ll arrange for somebody, and we’ll work out the details. Anyway, the other reason for my visit’s a call I got from an advertising agency. The Florida-Georgia Ford Dealerships Association wants to hire you guys.”

Borrowing the Foes 2 Bros tagline from the Sports Illustrated article, the commercial featured the two bantering about their college exploits and their future in the NFL. Payment included brand new F-250 trucks and residuals for each showing of the advertisement. Phil’s pickup was Duke blue while Riley’s was Georgia red.

Flexibility in their schedule meant Phil and Riley spent more time lounging by the pool or at the beach. They also became fixtures at Matt’s games, befriending the other team members, and providing training tips to the high school kids. When they flew to Vegas in late April, both men were still in top shape but also sported dark tans.

“This place’s a circus.” The huge hotel lobby felt small with the large number of oversized prospects milling around. Players, family, agents, team personnel, and marketing representatives mingled while the cacophony of multiple conversations drowned out the piped in music. Phil pointed out the Miami Dolphins General Manager they had previously met. “Wish we could both be drafted by the Fins. It’d be cool to play home games at the Rock.” He referred to Hard Rock Stadium, home to the league’s southernmost team.

“Maybe we can work something out once we become free agents.” Playing for the same team was something they had discussed and agreed they would try to make happen. The young men had become inseparable since meeting on New Year’s Day.

After dinner with a couple of other prospects they had befriended, the guys hit the casino. Garrett had handed each of them ten black chips and told them to go enjoy themselves.

“I’m following you,” Riley told Phil. “I’ve never gambled before and have no idea what to do.”

“Cool. I know how to play blackjack but always lose. Let’s hit the roulette table. All we gotta do is pick numbers and enjoy the free cocktails.”

When they called it quits, they were somewhat inebriated, Phil had ten dollars left, but Riley had doubled his stake. “Beginners luck,” he explained.

Both men were nervous on April 23, the day of the draft. A bro hug and words of encouragement at the door of the cavernous room had to carry them through the end of the day; they would not be sitting next to each other.

“With the fourth pick, The Washington Redskins select Riley Knight, wide receiver from the University of Georgia.” Roger Goodell, National Football League commissioner looked to where Riley sat. Several tables over, Phil was the first person to stand, cheer, and applaud. Aware of the bromance between Phil and Riley, others at the table indulged the young man’s celebration and smiled.

Climbing the steps to the raised platform after kissing and hugging his parents, Riley repeatedly pumped an arm in the air. When the commissioner handed him a Redskins jersey with KNIGHT and the number one on it, Riley had to wipe away tears. Those same eyes sought out the man who had become his best friend in such a short time. The small nod assured Phil they were still on the same page.

Teams had five minutes to make their selection; as each pick was announced, there were few surprises. Most of the choices tracked with analysts’ predictions. When six out of the thirty-two teams remained, anticipation grew amongst the prospects not yet selected. Those already taken concentrated on answering questions from reporters behind the stage, but Riley kept an eye on the monitor showing the proceedings.

“With the twenty-sixth pick”—the room quieted when Commissioner Goodell stood at the microphone once again—“the Baltimore Ravens select Phil Martinez, tight end from Duke.”

The loudest cheer in the auditorium came from Phil’s father. Behind the stage, in the midst of talking to media representatives, Riley was heard whooping it up. He and Phil would be playing home games within an hour’s drive of each other.

When Phil left the stage carrying his Raven’s jersey and wearing a purple, black, and gold ball cap, his smile could not have been bigger. The cap flew off when Riley tackled him and wrapped him in his arms. After being congratulated by the players selected ahead of him, Phil set about answering reporter questions.

“Phil, the bromance between you and Riley Knight has been well publicized. How excited are you about playing so close to him?”

“Oh, man, it’s the best feeling ever. And bromance my ass. Riley’s my boyfriend.”

The ensuing storm raged for weeks. In the end, Riley and Phil signed with the teams that drafted them. However the Redskins and the Ravens felt about the men's sexual orientation, they were not about to waste first round picks. Outstanding rookie seasons by both men helped quiet most much of the noise two openly gay National Football League players created. Professional football would never be the same.

The End