This football season, between all of the human interest stories, columns, pictures and videos, I’m going to write two fictional series. One about the NFL and another about college football.

The NFL story is called The Veteran, it’s a story about NFL journeyman, Cale Trent, who details his ninth NFL season in his journal. He’s finally playing for his favorite NFL team, the Dallas Cowboys. Here’s the first installment. Enjoy.

Wednesday July 30th – It’s been a crazy couple of days so I haven’t had the chance to write in my journal like I normally do. I was mowing the lawn when Paris came out to tell my phone was ringing. I love her, but I’m not the most faithful person, so I was nervous as shit wondering which one of these Thots was trying to put my life and my relationship in danger. Thankfully, it was the Dallas Cowboys’ General Manager. They needed more bodies in camp.

My NFL career might not stop at eight years, I could possibly get nine. The fact that I’ve lasted this long is crazy in and of itself. I’m just beyond grateful. I’ve never been a star, ever. I’ve just always figured out ways to make it. I was good in high school, but didn’t make the Virginia All-State team. I was a preferred walked-on in college at LSU. I was a decent starter, but not great. I somehow made it to the NFL by mashing for my dreams and dominating on special teams.

Fuck the broken ankle that ended my career last season just six games in. I’m in camp now, I’m not supposed to be here. The best thing about it is that I have a chance to play for my favorite team. The Dallas Cowboys. Yeah, I’m born and raised in Hampton, but I’m the son of two military parents who were both high school sweethearts born and raised in Clarksville, Texas. So, although we were deep in Redskins country, we stood proud as Cowboys fans.

I had no time to get to training camp in Oxnard, CA. I hate to admit this, but I should have had a bag packed and ready to go just in case I got the call. I guess I didn’t have faith that it would happened. I packed as fast as I could kissed my girl and two kids goodbye and got on a plane.

I thought I was in shape, but you’re never really in football shape until you put on the pads. The first four days of practice have been rough. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I don’t like hitting people anymore and I don’t want to be hit anymore. It’s like I want to play, but I don’t want to be at training camp. I know for a fact this is my last year.

I’ve worn #24 my entire career, but the stud new rookie, Rocky Sanders, is wearing it. They gave me #26. It doesn’t look at good on me, but whatever, I’m here and that’s all that matters. The defense that they run is complex as hell! They blitz a ton and it’s going to be hard as hell picking everything up especially since I’m going to be playing slot corner most of the time. The special teams will come on it’s own, that’s what I’m known for, but I’ve got to get this playbook down and make some plays if I want to be on the 53 man roster.

I’ve done well so far and I’m picking up everything fast. The most interesting thing that’s happened is that the first training camp fight was because of me. It was earlier today at practice. I really didn’t do anything wrong to be honest. I was in the slot running on the scout team. I blitzed, the running back blocked me, we got tangled up because he was holding me and he flung me to the ground. As I hit the ground and start to roll, I clipped the quarterback’s legs and he fell, but he popped right back up. It was close because that’s typically how ACL injuries happen. Well, the offensive linemen didn’t take too kindly to it. So here I am, only 5’9″ 185lbs going toe to toe with two 300lbs motherfuckers. I ain’t no bitch though. I stood up to them, but I got mushed in the face masked and tossed right back down to the ground. I can’t remember which one thought it was WWE and gave me the people’s elbow.

We got broken up. Or rather, they both were peeled off of the top of me. I got cursed out by every single offensive coach for being throw into the quarterback and by my position coach for allowing the RB to block me. I figured it was over for me after that. I was at dinner later fearing the worst, but the grim reaper didn’t come around asking for my playbook.

Our first game is August 7th, against the Chargers. I’ve got to get everything down. Right now, I need football more than it needs me. Ever since last season ended, I’ve felt depressed like it was all over. I didn’t graduate college. I’ve got a few more credits, but what the hell am I going to do with an African-American studies degree. I don’t want to teach. I haven’t been good with my money either. All I know is football and I’m not ready for it to end just yet.

I’ve got so much on my mind, I haven’t been calling home as much as I should. I know Paris is pissed off at me too. I feel bad saying this but I don’t really miss her or the kids. Hell it’s only been four days and I needed the break. I’m sure I’ll feel different in a couple of more days.

I’m out of here. I’ve got to get back to this playbook.