"465,000," the number stared back at him, black and white, fewer zeros than he imagined, but still enough to make his head spin.
The annual salary was $465,000 for a two-year contract. Plus, there were bonuses—$20,000 for each game won, no cap.
So, what does an annual salary of $465,000, not counting bonuses and benefits, really mean?
To put it simply, a senior software engineer in Silicon Valley makes about $150,000 a year, which is above the U.S. average. But with a 35% tax rate and living costs around $60,000 a year, that high salary doesn’t stretch as far as you'd think.
In other words, a fat paycheck might not be enough to live large; it might just cover the basics.
Jack and Annie, both tech immigrants, had a pretty decent combined salary. But living in San Francisco, even in the not-so-pricey Haight-Ashbury district, they were just your average middle-class family.
Now, Luke's salary alone was more than his parents' combined! Unbelievable!
Of course, as an undrafted rookie, Luke's contract was small potatoes in the league.
This year's top draft pick, Cam Newton, signed a four-year, $22 million deal. That’s real money—fully guaranteed, too. No need to play a single game, train daily, or worry about injuries. Just sign, and the $22 million is his.
The top draft pick gets the glory and the cash. Compared to that, Luke's deal was peanuts.
League rules say undrafted rookies have to sign a minimum two-year contract with a guaranteed salary of $465,000 to protect them. Only free agents who aren’t rookies can sign one-year deals.
So, the San Francisco 49ers gave Luke the minimum guaranteed contract. They hired him as the third-string quarterback but clearly had doubts about his future. He was just an emergency backup.
Undrafted rookie—that’s the reality.
If it weren’t for league rules, as the first officially signed Avalis American quarterback, his salary might be even lower. Just like how Hollywood actresses get paid less than male actors, and Asian actors get paid less than white actors. In America, that’s just how it is.
But after thirteen years of hard work, overcoming physical limits, breaking racial barriers, and outshining countless talents, he finally got a quarterback contract! That’s what matters! The dream was finally taking off!
This black-and-white contract was the best validation. He did it!
The reality hit him hard, excitement and joy rushing through his veins. But Luke clenched his right fist and calmed himself down.
The Football Superstar System made all this possible. Without it, he’d still be a dreamer destined for mediocrity. With it, everything was possible. He wouldn’t let this chance slip away. With the system’s help, Luke believed this undrafted rookie contract was just the beginning!
Taking a deep breath, Luke looked at Jonas and asked seriously, "Is there anything else in this contract I should pay attention to?"
A spark lit up in Jonas's eyes.
Most rookies only care about the salary numbers. But those with experience know the contract is full of clauses that can chip away at those zeros: like needing to start a certain number of games, or else the salary changes. And so on.
This rookie in front of him managed to stay clear-headed and calm, even if just a bit. Jonas couldn’t help but think of the rumors about this Avalis American quarterback: a perfect score on the Wonderlic Personnel Test. What could that mean for the league?
The thought passed quickly, and Jonas put on a professional smile. "I've already noted the important parts. You can read them in detail, and if you have any questions, email me. I'll try to answer them before the official signing."
"Okay. Thanks." Luke didn't waste any more words. He just extended his right hand with a smile, "Pleasure working with you."
Jonas nodded, "Pleasure working with you."
The interview was over. After seeing Jonas off, Luke wandered towards the parking lot, still in a daze. A cold wind snapped him back to reality, making him realize he was still in his sweaty training gear, holding a towel, helmet, a draft contract, and a bunch of business cards.
He had completely forgotten about all that. Everything had hit him at once, wave after wave, leaving his brain no time to process. Shaking his head with a wry smile, he headed to the locker room.
He changed out of his training gear, took a shower, put on his regular clothes, packed his stuff, and then made his way to the parking lot.
Summer days are always long. The sunset had been blazing for over an hour and still hadn't fully set, painting the sky a bright orange. The green landscape was turning dark, outlining the city's veins.
From a distance, Luke spotted his ride. It was a navy blue Chevrolet pickup truck, a bit worn but still powerful.
This truck was his sixteenth birthday gift, not brand new but second-hand, only three years old when he got it. It had been with him from San Francisco to Los Angeles and across North America for various tryouts. It wasn't flashy, but it was practical and durable.
But now, the navy blue truck had turned white.
Literally "white," the entire pickup was buried under a heap of white objects, looking like plastic or foam, filling the cab, the roof, and half the bed, even spilling onto the ground.
Nearby, three or four dozen cardboard boxes lay discarded, a mess. They seemed to be the packaging for those white objects.
Luke blinked, staring at his ride in disbelief, and quickly walked over. As he got closer, the white objects looked more like paper, not foam or plastic, but white paper, flat and light. A gust of wind blew, causing many of the papers to flutter.
But then, Luke's steps halted. He couldn't believe his eyes, and a smile crept up his face. He took another look to confirm his suspicion, then burst into helpless laughter. As he glanced around, the absurdity of the situation grew, and his smile widened:
These weren't paper sheets; they were condoms.
Yes, his pickup was buried under a pile of condoms, looking like a party was about to start. Though he didn't count them, Luke was sure there were at least thirty boxes, so how many condoms were there?
That was a tough question.
Walking closer, Luke found the situation increasingly amusing, looking around in disbelief. This was clearly a prank, and the prankster wasn't hard to guess. "Logan Newman, if you don't come out now, I can stand here all night." Standing by his car door, the objects became unmistakably clear, and Luke couldn't help but chuckle.
No response, no sound. The parking lot was empty except for four unfamiliar cars. Luke was sure Logan's ride wasn't among them; his car was a black SUV, which Luke and Jay always mocked as a mom-mobile.
But Luke wasn't in a hurry. He stood his ground, "Logan, you should know, my patience is always better than yours." After saying this, a light bulb went off in Luke's head, and he added loudly, "Marcus Lynch, if you come out now, I might consider paying half the cost of your prank."
"He did it! It was him!" Logan was the first to run out. The two had been hiding behind a trash can in the parking lot corner. Marcus jumped up, yelling, "Hey, furball, that's not cool! Not cool at all! How could you sell out your teammate?"
Logan didn't care, running over, "Bambi, isn't this a genius masterpiece? This idea is awesome!" Logan stood beside Luke, looking satisfied with his prank.
Marcus grumbled as he ran over, "Dude, hey, show some friendship, will you?" He circled to Luke's other side, and in a flash, grabbed Luke's right hand. Logan seized the moment to grab Luke's left hand, and the two of them dragged Luke to the car door and pushed hard.
Caught off guard, Luke lost his balance and fell. Logan then opened the car door.
The condoms that filled the cab poured out like a flood, instantly engulfing Luke. Logan's joyful shout echoed in his ears, "Bambi, welcome to the San Francisco 49ers!"