Preseason countdown, last day.
The clock's ticking felt like it was speeding up, and the pressure was mounting. Just yesterday, Luke signed with the San Francisco 49ers, and tomorrow, the preseason kicks off. The new season is almost here.
Everything's been a whirlwind. "Future Vision News" hasn't even published Jerry's interview yet, and Luke hasn't had a moment to soak in the pro team vibe before the season's upon him.
With the preseason looming, Luke's running out of time. He's got a ton to do, and the playbook is priority number one. He only got it last night and hasn't even skimmed it, let alone understood it.
No one's got time to help Luke out. Even Logan, Marcus, Alton, and the rest are in the same boat. Luke's on his own; it's the only way.
At 5 AM sharp, just as dawn was breaking, Luke was already up and starting his day.
By 5:30, he was at the training base, doing warm-ups and basic drills.
At six, after a quick breakfast, he spent an hour going over the playbook, reviewing what he managed to get through last night.
By seven, he was back to training, starting with half an hour of yoga, then moving on to passing drills and footwork.
Around 8:05 or 8:10, the rookies started trickling into the training base, only to find Luke already there, drenched in sweat. Soon after, the veteran players showed up, laughing and joking, ready to start their day.
For the vets, even the day before a regular-season game isn't too tense; it's more about chilling out. So, a preseason game? Not a big deal.
To them, Luke was either a "slow bird flying first" or just showing off, not worth their attention.
Amidst all the hustle and bustle, Luke stuck to his routine. He checked his watch; it was 8:25. Time to wrap up his first round of morning training and hit the locker room to shower, change, and join the team's regular practice.
The locker room was buzzing with chatter. On the table to the left, a bunch of brand-new helmets were neatly lined up, dark gold with bright red stripes, looking sharp and catching everyone's eye.
The 49ers' home jersey is a red top with gold pants, flashy and classy, one of the best-looking uniforms in the league. On game days, Candlestick Park turns into a sea of red and gold, a sight to behold.
The vets were gathered around the table, chatting away. Luke didn't join in. He was curious about the helmets, but he hadn't seen them when he came in earlier, so they must've just been put out. But he was running out of time and didn't want to be late for practice, so he pushed his curiosity aside, quickly showered, and changed into fresh gear. But then, he couldn't find his helmet.
When he got to the locker room this morning, his helmet was in his locker. It was the first time since college he'd seen his name on a helmet and jersey. "14, LU." It wasn't his dream number eleven, but it was still a milestone, and he was proud of it.
During his solo training, there was no contact, so he didn't wear his helmet, just his workout clothes. But now, the helmet was gone.
"Logan, have you seen my helmet?" Luke called out, looking around.
Logan, tying his shoelaces, looked up, puzzled. "What? You didn't wear your helmet this morning?" He was used to Luke's hard work, so he wasn't surprised.
Luke shrugged, "No, I left it in my locker." He started searching the locker room, asking, "Is this your helmet?" whenever he saw an idle one. But no number fourteen helmet.
After two rounds of searching, still no helmet, and the players were starting to head out. The countdown to the nine o'clock practice had begun.
"Bambi, need a hand?" Marcus strolled over and gave Luke a pat on the shoulder.
"Nah, you guys go ahead. I'll catch up," Luke waved off Marcus and Logan. He noticed Alton giving him a questioning look from across the room and signaled "OK" to reassure him before diving back into his helmet hunt.
After another round of searching, the vets started to clear out, and Luke made his way to the table with the helmets. A black player was busy nearby.
They had trained together yesterday, so Luke recognized him. It was Kendall Hunter, a fellow rookie running back. "Hey, Kendall, what's up with these helmets?"
Luke wondered if his helmet had gotten mixed up here or if he could borrow one for the morning's practice.
Kendall looked up, "Oh, these are for charity, man."
Every year, teams do charity events, prepping all sorts of souvenirs like jerseys, helmets, footballs, and other stuff. Players sign them and donate them for fundraising.
Not just the pros, but college teams do it too.
"You haven't signed yet, have you? Better get on it," Kendall remembered. Since Luke was asking, he probably hadn't signed yet. Kendall handed him a carbon pen.
Luke recalled the vets gathered around earlier. Now it made sense—they weren't excited about new helmets. "Rookies gotta sign too?"
"Yep, everyone on the team," Kendall laughed. "They need it done by this morning; they're taking them away by noon." He pointed to his own helmet, which he had just signed.
So, Luke took the pen, found the number fourteen helmet, and quickly signed his name before putting it back. "Seen any extra helmets? Mine's missing."
"Did you check the field? Maybe someone grabbed it by mistake," Kendall suggested.
Luke nodded reluctantly. It was possible. Plus, practice was about to start, and he had to get moving. Sighing, Luke and Kendall left the locker room and headed to the field.
On the field, the coaches were already gathering, chatting in small groups.
Logan saw Luke and mouthed, "Where's your helmet?"
Luke spread his hands and gave a wry smile. He knew someone might've taken it by mistake, but it was more likely a prank. He shook his head and joined the offensive group.
"Gather up!" Jim Harbaugh, holding a clipboard, walked to the front and shouted. The players lined up, and Jim started his pep talk, laying out the day's plan.
Luke scanned the area with his peripheral vision, hoping to spot his helmet. But that hope was quickly dashed. "Luke?" A voice called from outside the lineup, interrupting Jim's speech.
Everyone turned to look. It was the equipment manager, holding a helmet. "Luke? Is this yours?"
The brand-new, shiny helmet had a conspicuous signature in black carbon pen: Luke. Almost everyone could see it.
All eyes were on Luke, sharp and mocking. At that moment, Luke wished he could disappear. Then Parys's teasing voice cut through, "Luke, looks like you've got the world's most loyal fan—yourself."
Everyone burst into laughter.
Luke opened his mouth to explain, but Jim cut him off, "Luke, get your helmet. Stop making a scene."
Luke clenched his fists. He knew anything he said now would only make things worse. The best move was to stay quiet and end this embarrassment quickly.
Logan and Marcus gave him worried looks. Luke shook his head to show he was fine, then quickly walked out of the lineup and took the helmet from the equipment manager. The manager advised, "There's a difference between souvenirs and regular gear. Pay attention next time. Also, your souvenir hasn't been signed yet. Make sure to come to the locker room later to finish signing."
Humiliation, pure humiliation.
Luke gritted his teeth, "Got it. Thanks." He took his helmet, the signature glaringly obvious, a constant reminder of his embarrassment.
He told himself silently: Off-field antics don't matter. What truly decides victory is performance on the field. The one who laughs last, laughs best. The outcome is still uncertain.
He would remember this incident.
PS：Due to the author's circumstances, this book will now be updated weekly. Thank you for your support.