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thereby giving his receivers a little extra time to get open. Sources close to McKinney are reporting that he’s determined to make this Dallas’s year to win the Super Bowl.
    He’s still not spoken about the prescription painkiller abuse allegations that continue to dog him. He looks healthy, and seems to be focused on his career. Still no word when his wedding will take place, but websites are reporting that it will be before the season begins.
     
    We’ve taken a fifteen-minute breather to regroup. Inside the conference room it had gotten heated. I’ve spent the last couple of hours watching the best scouts in the country debate the pros and cons of drafting a hotshot wide receiver out of Georgia Tech. The kid was a phenom in college, but he’d also had some serious brushes with the law. Is he a good gamble? Is he consistent enough to be an impact player? Can the staff keep him from embarrassing the team? Will his off-field behavior be a distraction?
    The coaches, team president, vice president, general manager, coordinators and me had acted as casual observers to the debate. I feel like a judge scoring a boxing match. The scouts are bitterly divided over this kid. Finally, I had to step in and break up a fistfight that erupted between two of the scouts. These guys are passionate about what they do. They’d have to be, because it’s got to be one of the worst jobs ever.
    The draft is days away. This is arguably the most stressful time for the franchise. A good draft can mean a championship season. A bad draft earns you ridicule in the national media, season ticket sales in the toilet, and a team with not enough talent to make it anywhere except to last place. We have to not only figure out what’s best for Dallas; we also have to try to predict what all the other teams are going to do. We have to have multiple plans in place for trades if our guy gets snapped up early, or if maybe a guy that we didn’t think we could draft happens to still be available. We have to know what we want to do. Fortunately, my job is more to listen to the debates and give my opinion on the players. The math nerds have to run the plethora of scenarios.
    I’d used my fifteen-minute break to grab another water bottle, return some emails and texts, and call Charlie. When I hang up with her, there’s not a doubt in my mind that I need to get home and as quickly as possible. She was sobbing. I try to lessen the weight that’s sitting on my chest by kneading it with my fist, but it’s no use.
    I’ve already spoken to Jenny this morning and heard that her and Charlie had an argument. Jenny told me that Charlie was going for a run and then hanging out with Brad all day. I’m not sure what’s happened to change that, but Charlie’s upset.
    Whatever is going on, I need to leave, and my coaches are not going to be pleased.
    I attempt to take a couple of deep breaths to calm myself down before I walk back in the large conference room and make the announcement. However, the weight on my chest prevents those deep breaths from happening. “I’ve got an emergency at home. Hopefully, I’ll be back in an hour. If not, I’ll let you know.”
    “What? Did the pool waterfall flood the movie room?” one of the scouts quips. I’ve heard that he’d fought hard to draft me. I’ve always tried to be nice to him, but right now, I could beat his face in.
    I smile and say, “Somethin’ like that.”
    The offensive coordinator flashes me a concerned look. I shrug my shoulders and say, “I’m not sure what happened, but I need to go.”
    Everyone in this room knows about the prescription painkiller abuse allegations that are sticking to me. They all watched the Allison Katz interview, and got a glimpse of what my private life looks like. I’ve tried hard to keep my personal shit away from football, but on that fateful Thursday that the interview aired, the lines blurred. I don’t want my coaches to see my panic. I hope that I covered well.