Chapter 89 88: Step by Step
The cloudless sky was completely unobscured, a vast expanse of azure blue. Lazy contrails, like a few sparse brushstrokes, sketched out the immensity of the firmament. Bright golden sunlight spilled down wantonly, filling every corner of sight. As it landed on the skin, every exposed inch seemed to open up, taking deep breaths of the crisp, grass-scented air.
The training field before him was completely empty, without a single soul in sight. Occasionally, a lark would alight on the turf, hoping to find a grasshopper to fill its belly. But a moment later, realizing it was an athletic field with no such small creatures, it would fly off again in disappointment.
Adam Klein sat all alone on the bleachers. With no awning for cover, he was completely exposed to the sun. The black baseball cap on his head did little to help. It felt like he had just wiped his brow, but sweat was already starting to seep out from his forehead again.
'It was hard to imagine that while many cities to the north were still buried in snow, April in Los Angeles was already throwing its arms open, enthusiastically welcoming summer's arrival.' In two more weeks, the annual NFL Draft would kick off. A few weeks after that, university recruitment for new football players would begin. Then came the pro teams' internal training camps, then the preseason, and then the regular season.
It felt like the Super Bowl had ended just a short while ago, yet the new season was already around the corner. But on second thought, the Rookie Training Camp was already six weeks ago. Time seemed to fly even faster than he'd imagined.
Over the past six weeks, the entire league had sprung into a flurry of activity. Thirty-two teams and over three hundred rookies set in motion a vast, intricate, and complex machine.
The highly anticipated rookie players gradually began to stand out. Scouts and teams conducted further investigations and gathered information. Meanwhile, major media outlets and columnists all started making their predictions: positions teams needed to fill, choices teams might make, the thirty-two first-round rookie picks, which rounds the big-name rookies might fall to...
Adam was one of the many figures running around nonstop. Some players required three or four reassessments. Some needed to be re-evaluated based on their Rookie Training Camp performance. Some had off-field troubles and issues that needed to be verified again. Some had private life and character concerns that required more data collection. And still others needed another personal interview and review with the team's decision-making staff.
In a way, there was only a fine line between a scout and a private investigator. Once all the frantic work was over, Adam revised his scouting reports again before submitting them for consideration.
However, every time he returned to Los Angeles, no matter how tired or busy, Adam would set aside a day to come back to UCLA and watch Lu Ke train. This was the last one. The scouting reports for all other players had been submitted—all except for this final one.
In truth, no one was asking for Lu Ke's scouting report. Even the New Orleans Saints, who had shown great interest during the Rookie Training Camp, had a Defense Team that was riddled with holes compared to their quarterback and offense. Their top priority was still to bring in fresh blood for the defense.
For all the buzz and excitement, not a single team was actually willing to take a step forward.
First, Lu Ke's physical test results were truly unsatisfactory. Second, the available data from Lu Ke's entire playing career was unimpressive. Harping on those same two games over and over again offered very little reference value. Third, Chinese descent and quarterback—on the football field, this was practically a taboo combination. There had never even been a player of Chinese descent at any other position, so how could anyone hand over the brains of the team to one?
And so, the buzz from the Rookie Training Camp was, in reality, just a brief commotion within California before it gradually settled and cooled down. No one asked, no one watched, and no one cared.
Even the scouts had stopped caring. Not criticizing, not condemning, not looking down on him, but simply indifferent. This was a state of affairs far more terrifying than a tide of bad reviews.
The only reason Adam hadn't given up was a gut feeling he was clinging to.
As a scout, he had seen thirty-six years come and go. Several generations of professional players in the league had passed before his eyes. He had seen countless geniuses, countless fallen geniuses, and countless underdogs who had unleashed astonishing power. He possessed a keen intuition—an intuition he couldn't see, couldn't grasp, and couldn't explain.
He scented a special quality in Lu Ke, something indescribable that he hoped he could unearth. 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.
The patter of footsteps grew closer. Without needing to turn around, Adam knew it had to be Lu Ke.
For the past six weeks, Lu Ke hadn't given up, nor had he let himself go. He had been training tirelessly, methodically improving himself step by step. It was as if the Rookie Training Camp hadn't disrupted his life, and the six weeks of silence hadn't made him quit. Even during spring break, when all the university students were enjoying their time off—including the players participating in this year's draft—he still hadn't stopped training.
At the same time, he was still working hard to finish his university studies, going to the library every day to work on his thesis. Meanwhile, the other players focused on the draft had long since thrown their studies and degrees to the back of their minds once their GPAs met the NCAA requirements.
Sure enough, Lu Ke's figure jogged into the stadium. As soon as his feet hit the track, he suddenly accelerated with all his might, pushing his speed to the absolute limit in a 100-meter dash. After the hundred meters, he slowed slightly, using the curve to recover before hitting the straightaway and launching into another 100-meter sprint.
This kind of interval running placed harsh demands on basic physical attributes like stamina, endurance, and explosive power. Even the player with the best time in the 60-yard shuttle at the Rookie Training Camp wouldn't necessarily be able to complete such a grueling training regimen. What's more, Adam knew that Lu Ke was doing this after already having run over nine kilometers.
Adam wasn't sure if it was his imagination, but he felt Lu Ke's speed had improved, and his recovery ability after the sprints was also increasing. Of course, he didn't have a stopwatch on him, so he didn't know the exact data. It was very possible that it was just his own pity and hope, a faint wish that Lu Ke's arduous training would pay off.
After finishing his 10,000-meter run, Lu Ke gradually slowed his pace and began some simple cool-down exercises—regulating his breathing and stretching his muscles to prepare for the fundamental drills to come.
"So, how was the trip? Anything to show for it?" An inquiry came from beside him. Adam turned his head and saw Anthony Jefferson. He had a smile on his face; it was clear he was in a good mood.
Adam shrugged. "Same old, same old. If those so-called 'genius' players worked even a third as hard as Lu Ke, maybe this year's draft would actually be exciting."
"But, that's life." Anthony let out a long breath, as if expelling all the stale air from his chest. "Just you again today? Or are you waiting for someone?" Say, a quarterback coach or offensive coordinator from some team? A GM, or maybe a senior scout?
Adam didn't speak, just tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Anthony rapped his palm against the railing, a bitter smile on his face. He looked like he wanted to say something, but in the end, said nothing. "We'll talk later. I'm going down to help Lu Ke with his training."
For the past six weeks, the entire university had been in its off-season, and the players and coaches were all on break. But Anthony had been helping Lu Ke train the whole time, quietly persevering and pushing forward in their own way.
Watching Anthony's back as he walked down to the field, Adam's smile also turned bitter.
He didn't want to let them down, because they had already been disappointed too many times. Adam had been constantly trying to pull strings, hoping to get a quarterback coach to come and see Lu Ke's training—not the physical tests at the camp, not the simple tests from those three days, but his real, honest-to-god fundamental drills.
But nine times—he had failed nine times in total. Five of those times, they had given him a firm 'yes' over the phone. But in reality, they never showed up. When he called back later, it was either voicemail or a mountain of excuses. Again and again, his hopes would soar, only to come crashing down. It was a terrible feeling. Adam knew this well.
In fact, he had arranged for an old friend to come today. After a dozen or so calls back and forth, he had finally persuaded him to come to UCLA and see for himself. But now, he couldn't be one hundred percent sure. 'What if I say it out loud, and it's just another disappointment?'
In his line of sight, Lu Ke greeted Anthony's arrival with a huge smile. He wasn't the least bit dejected by his bleak situation, nor had he given up on himself because of his fading future. The high curve of his lips shone brilliantly under the sun, radiating vigorous life. That passion, coming from the depths of his soul, was so beautiful, so moving.
'But in the real world, the space for dreams to survive is just too, too small.'
BUZZ, BUZZ. The phone in his pocket started vibrating. Adam pulled it out and answered, "Adam Klein speaking."
"Hey, man, where the hell are you? I'm in the players' tunnel right now." That familiar voice made Adam shoot to his feet. He was so agitated that the notebook and pen on his lap all scattered onto the ground, but Adam paid them no mind. "Old man, come on out! I'm in the stands to the right of the players' tunnel. You'll see me as soon as you walk out."
The footsteps grew closer, and then the short, squat man appeared in his line of sight.