The sky was cloudless and a brilliant blue, clear and vast as far as the eye could see. A few lazy contrails painted the boundless expanse, while the bright golden sun shone down, reaching every corner of the view. On the exposed skin, every inch seemed to open up, deeply breathing in the dry, grassy-scented air.
The practice field in front was empty, with not a single person in sight. Occasionally, a lark would fly by, landing in the grass to look for a grasshopper to eat, only to realize a moment later that this was a sports field with no small creatures around. It would then fly away, disappointed.
Adam Klein sat alone in the stands, completely exposed to the sun without the cover of a canopy. His black baseball cap offered little protection, and sweat slowly started to bead on his forehead, as if it had not been long since he last wiped it.
It was hard to imagine that in many cities up north, it was still snowing, but in Los Angeles, April was already welcoming the arrival of summer. In two weeks, the annual NFL Draft would begin. In a few more weeks, college football player selection would start. Then came the professional teams' training camps, followed by the preseason and then the regular season.
It felt like the Super Bowl had just ended, and yet the new season was already just around the corner. But on second thought, the rookie training camp was six weeks ago, and time seemed to be flying by even faster than he had imagined.
Over the past six weeks, the entire league had been busy. The thirty-two teams and more than 300 rookies were like a large, precise, and complex machine, running at full speed.
The highly-anticipated rookie players were slowly starting to stand out. Scouts and teams were further evaluating and collecting information, while major media outlets and columns began to make predictions: which positions teams needed to fill, which choices teams might make, who the thirty-two first-round picks would be, and what rounds the famous rookies might be drafted in.
Among all the incredibly busy people, Adam was one of them. Some players needed to be evaluated three or four times. Some players needed to be re-evaluated based on their performance at the rookie training camp. Some players who had issues or problems off the field needed to be re-verified. Some players' personal conduct needed to be looked into. And some players needed to be interviewed and assessed again by the team's decision-making team.
In a way, there was only a fine line between a scout and a private investigator. After all the busyness was over, Adam would once again revise his scouting report and submit it for consideration.
However, whenever he returned to Los Angeles, no matter how tired or busy he was, Adam would take a day to come back to UCLA and watch Lu Ke's practice. This was the last one; all the other players' scouting reports had been submitted, except for this one.
In fact, no one was asking for Lu Ke's scouting report. The New Orleans Saints, who had shown great interest during the rookie training camp, had a defense that was full of holes compared to their quarterback and offense. Their top priority was to bring in new blood for the defense.
It all seemed so lively and bustling, but in reality, no one was willing to take a step forward.
First, Lu Ke's physical test results were truly unsatisfactory. Second, the data available for his entire playing career was very limited, with only two games to refer to, so the reference value was too low. Third, a Chinese quarterback was almost a forbidden combination on the football field. Since there had never been a Chinese player in any other position, how could a team's brain be entrusted to a Chinese player?
As a result, the buzz from the rookie training camp only lasted for a while in California and then gradually faded and cooled down. No one was asking about him, no one was paying attention, and no one cared.
Not even the scouts cared anymore. It wasn't criticism, condemnation, or looking down on him. It was indifference, which was a more terrible reality than a flood of negative reviews.
The reason Adam hadn't given up was simply a gut feeling.
As a scout, he had spent thirty-six years in the field. He had seen several generations of professional players in the league. He had seen countless geniuses, countless fallen geniuses, and countless ordinary players who were not favored but who burst out with amazing energy. He had a keen sense, a gut feeling that he couldn't see or explain.
He sensed a special quality in Lu Ke, something he couldn't describe, but he wanted to unearth it. So, he never gave up. Even Blake Simmons had given up, but he still hadn't. Now, he was the only scout still paying attention to Lu Ke.
"Pat, pat, pat," footsteps came from a distance, and without looking back, Adam knew that the person coming must be Lu Ke.
In the past six weeks, Lu Ke had not given up or wasted any time. He had been training tirelessly and methodically, constantly improving himself. It seemed that the rookie training camp had not disrupted his life, and the silence of the past six weeks had not made him give up. Even during spring break, when all college students, including the players who were going to be in the draft this year, were enjoying their time off, he still hadn't stopped training.
At the same time, he was also working hard to complete his college degree, going to the library every day to work on his graduation thesis. For the players who were dedicated to participating in the draft, once their GPA met the NCAA requirements, their studies and degrees were long forgotten.
Sure enough, Lu Ke's figure jogged into the stadium. After he got on the track, he suddenly started to accelerate, sprinting at full speed. After a hundred meters, he slowed down a little, used the turn to adjust, and then entered the straightaway, where he started another hundred-meter sprint.
This kind of interval running placed strict demands on his physical fitness, endurance, and explosive power. Even the players who had the best results in the sixty-yard shuttle at the rookie training camp might not have been able to complete such a grueling workout. What's more, Adam knew that Lu Ke was in this state after having already run more than 9,000 meters.
Adam wondered if it was just his imagination, but he thought Lu Ke's speed had increased, and his recovery ability after a sprint had also improved. Of course, he didn't have a stopwatch, so he didn't know the exact data. It was very likely that it was just his inner hope and anticipation, a faint hope that Lu Ke's hard training would pay off.
After finishing the 10,000-meter run, Lu Ke slowly stopped and started doing some simple cool-down exercises to regulate his breathing and soothe his muscles in preparation for the upcoming basic skills training.
"How was your business trip? How did it go?" a voice asked from behind. Adam turned his head and saw Anthony Jefferson with a smile on his face. It was clear he was in a good mood.
Adam shrugged. "Same as usual. Same as usual. If those so-called genius players were a third as hardworking as Lu Ke, this year's draft might have been more exciting."
"Well, that's life." Anthony let out a long breath, as if he was exhaling the stale air from his chest. "Are you alone again today? Or are you waiting for someone?" For example, a team's quarterback coach or offensive coach, or a team's manager, or a senior scout.
Adam didn't say anything, just twitched his mouth.
Anthony tapped the railing with his palm, revealing a bitter smile. He wanted to say something but didn't in the end. "I'll talk to you later. I'm going down to help Lu Ke with his training."
For the past six weeks, the entire school had been in the off-season, and the players and coaches were all on vacation. But Anthony had been helping Lu Ke train, working hard and persevering in their own way.
Watching Anthony walk down to the field, Adam's smile also turned a little bitter.
He didn't want to disappoint them because they had been disappointed too many times. Adam had been trying to connect with people, hoping that a quarterback coach would come and see Lu Ke's training, not the physical tests from the training camp or the simple tests within those three days, but the real, solid basic training.
But he had failed nine times. Five of those times, people had actually verbally agreed over the phone. But in reality, they never showed up. When he would call again, he would either get a voicemail or a bunch of excuses. Time and time again, their hopes would be raised high only to come crashing down. This feeling was not pleasant. Adam knew that very well.
In fact, he had an old friend he was meeting today. After a dozen phone calls, he finally convinced him to come to UCLA in person. But now, he wasn't 100% sure. What if they were disappointed again after he said it out loud?
In his line of sight, Lu Ke was greeting Anthony with a big smile, not at all dejected by his current slump, nor had he given up on a future that was slowly fading away. The wide smile on his face shone brightly in the sun, full of life. The passion that came from the depths of his soul was so beautiful and so moving.
But in reality, the space for a dream to survive was just too small.
"Buzz, buzz," his phone in his pocket started to vibrate. Adam took out his phone and answered. "This is Adam Klein."
"Hey, man, where are you? I'm in the players' tunnel right now." The familiar voice made Adam jump to his feet. Because he was so excited, the notebook and pen on his knees fell to the ground, but Adam didn't care at all. "Old man, come out. I'm in the stands to the right of the players' tunnel. You can see me as soon as you come out."
The sound of footsteps grew closer, and then the short, round man appeared in his sight.
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