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4Th Down and Forever
4Th Down and Forever
4Th Down and Forever
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4Th Down and Forever

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4th Down and Forever is a fictional novel that follows the Columbus Capitals football team through their regular season in the current time. The Capitals are torn between playing their veteran QB Adam St. John and the new Phenom first-round pick Ricky Crane. The story centers on their competition for the job of starting quarterback but something happens that gives them a chance to be much than a leader on the field but also in life. Take the journey with them as they discover what it means to be a teammate in a much more important game which lasts forever.
LanguageEnglish
Release dateFeb 15, 2019
ISBN9781490793795
4Th Down and Forever
Author

D. Eric Horner

D. Eric Horner began his writing career in 2006 when he became disabled due to Multiple Sclerosis. He finds the mental strength to battle this disease through the creation of the characters and plots in his novels. With the use of talk-to-text software he has been able to turn his ideas into finished works. He lives with his dear wife, Kathy, outside the hustle of the capital city of Ohio near the quaint village of Alexandria.

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    4Th Down and Forever - D. Eric Horner

    Copyright 2019 D. Eric Horner.

    All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

    ISBN: 978-1-4907-9377-1 (sc)

    ISBN: 978-1-4907-9378-8 (hc)

    ISBN: 978-1-4907-9379-5 (e)

    Library of Congress Control Number: 2019934213

    Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

    Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

    Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

    Trafford rev. 02/12/2019

    22970.png www.trafford.com

    North America & international

    toll-free: 1 888 232 4444 (USA & Canada)

    fax: 812 355 4082

    CONTENTS

    Prologue

    Chapter 1    5 years warlier

    Chapter 2

    Chapter 3

    Chapter 4

    Chapter 5

    Chapter 6

    Chapter 7

    Chapter 8

    Chapter 9

    Chapter 10

    Chapter 11

    Chapter 12

    Chapter 13

    Chapter 14

    Chapter 15

    Chapter 16

    Chapter 17

    Chapter 18

    Chapter 19

    Chapter 20

    Chapter 21

    Chapter 22

    Chapter 23

    Chapter 24

    Chapter 25

    Conclusion    As told by Debbie St. John

    PROLOGUE

    C olumbus Mercy Hospital was the same as any other. The nurses, orderlies and doctors were rushing around, and the PA system was calling out special colored codes and updating everyone on what was important at that moment. If one was used to the hospital environment, this would not be so nerve-racking, but for sports agent Mark Green this was his first time. Well, not really, it was the first time for this issue specifically. He has spent countless hours of his life waiting on news from the doctor about other sports clients but this was his superstar quarterback and number one client, Richard Crane.

    Injuries are part of the game, eh Mark, commented Mark’s competitive friend and colleague Jim.

    Injuries, yes, but not this, Mark answered as he nervously checked his handheld device.

    The two men were colleagues but that doesn’t mean they were friends. Over the years they have fought for players’ loyalty and trust. One of these two always seemed to represent the biggest star athlete of the day, which made them rivals. Each known for his ability to negotiate obscene salaries for their clients, they found themselves in Mercy Hospital’s waiting room for a very complicated reason.

    "It’s always the same isn’t it, Mark?

    How do you mean?

    Jim unbuttoned his tailored navy sport jacket and sat down in one of the most uncomfortable pleather chairs he had ever encountered. Mark took his eyes off of his Blackberry to go and sat beside Jim.

    Jim whined, We get these kids, show them how to be professionals, teach them what to do with their millions, show them the ways of the world and sooner or later you end up waiting on some doctor to tell you they’re going to be okay. Sometimes I guess it doesn’t matter how much you try to protect them, it always comes back to this place; this damn place. I don’t envy you, my friend. Your guy’s still young. After this, I’m sure my guy is done.

    Rubbing his hand across his stylish goatee, grown to make up for the lack of hair on his head, Mark pointed out, It’s always about the money for you.

    Jim didn’t answer and stared at the beige carpet. Crossing his line of sight was a 10-year-old boy decked out in a purple and gold Columbus Capitals number three jersey. The shirt was tucked way down in the blond-haired boy’s jeans, so that the number was not completely visible. It was obviously a shirt he was to grow into.

    Excuse me Mister, but is it true that Ricky Crane is in there? He’s my favorite player, and I want him to get well quick before we play Cincinnati.

    Choosing to switch to one of his own players, Jim answered the boy. You know son, Adam St. John is back there too. Would you like me to get you an autograph?

    The boy’s blue eyes flashed and he answered, "St. John is over the hill and besides, I’m wearing Ricky’s number— he’s the man."

    Mark moved in even closer after hearing the young boy’s comment, I work for Ricky, and I’m sure I could get him to sign something for you.

    My mom can go home and get one of the pictures out of my room! the boy suggested, wide eyed. With that the boy sprinted out of the waiting area. Mark smiled at Jim and sort of shrugged his shoulders while saying, What can you do? The fans love that kid.

    They love them because he’s winning, Jim answered. They didn’t love him so much after that thing in Colorado. Mark moved closer to Jim and asked him to keep his voice down because of all of the passing foot traffic.

    I think you’re still sore because Ricky signed with me.

    Shit, that was four years ago — ancient history man. I’ve got a kid that’s coming along now who will probably smash all of Ricky’s records.

    You mean like Ricky did to Adam?

    Records are made to be broken my friend, Jim said, and you can play high and mighty all you want, but you’re in this business for the same reason I am. It’s all about the money. Why else would we walk around with a shovel and a trashcan after these jocks?

    Mark stepped back and thought about his answer. He and Jim have had disagreements in the past, mostly over players, but sometimes it got a little too personal for Mark’s taste. Rather than have a heated discussion about their business, who makes more, who’s got the better stable of athletes, Mark turned his attention to the lady entering the waiting room. There was something about her that just screamed mom. It may have been the way her clothes looked thrown together or the fact that her hair was not the most important thing to her, but it was obvious the little guy by her side was her offspring.

    "My son was just telling me that he was in here bothering you two.

    You said that Ricky would sign something for me, didn’t you? and the young boy stated.

    Mark offered his hand to the woman. Ma’am, my name is Mark Green and I told your son that Ricky would sign something for him. I’m sorry if that causes any problem.

    Oh no, she nervously laughed, I thought maybe it was just another story that Josh had made up. You know how young boys are. I hope he wasn’t bothering you guys.

    Following Mark’s lead, Jim stood up and introduced himself. My name’s Jim Levy, and we’re close personal friends of both ballplayers that are here for treatment. I’m hoping that you’re not here because you’re sick.

    Me? No, my father is here for an appendectomy, that’s all. You said that there were two ballplayers here but Josh didn’t mention that. It seems like ever since that Richard Crane came into the league that’s all he talks about. You know, if you all are friends of his, could you do something for me? the lady asked both men. Please tell Ricky that young boys are always checking to see what he’s doing and are easily influenced.

    Mark stepped forward and thanked her for the complement. Thank you, ma’am, I’ll be sure to tell him.

    With an angry look on her face, she grabbed her child by the arm and snapped, It wasn’t a compliment! Tell that boy to straighten up regarding his constant hellraising. A single mother’s job is hard enough without his negative antics. Let’s go Josh.

    "But Mom," the young boy whined as his mother clutched him tighter as they walked out of the room.

    CHAPTER 1

    5 years earlier

    T he Columbus Capitals’ locker room air, which was normally filled with the medicated smell of Ben-Gay, was being washed away by the scents of shampoo and body wash emanating from the shower. It wasn’t the champagne-soaked euphoric atmosphere every one of the players had hoped for in September, but it wasn’t that terrible either. The football team, fresh off their move from Cleveland this year, had just finished 8-8 — a one- game improvement over last year, but still not good enough to make the playoffs. Their highly-touted quarterback, Adam St. John, sat staring into his locker. His passing numbers this year had been a lot better than the last couple, but not up to the standards that he had become accustomed to in college. The game had come so easily to him back then, but this was different now. He set record after record at the small school in Cincinnati and was looking forward to a promising pro career. Adam’s professional career thus far has lacked luster and very average.

    The owner of the team, Rudy Spires, who made his money running his father’s shipping business off the shores of Lake Erie, had promised the fans a better outcome once he moved the team and got Adam more experience, but that hasn’t happened yet. Rudy is a maverick of an owner. He is involved with all football operations, as if he were the coach, general manager, and chief scout. He is always at the facility, especially this new one in Columbus. This football-only stadium was built in the thriving Arena District of downtown Columbus. The state-of-the-art facility had been financed with tax dollars and some of the owner’s own money, and cost $750 million to build. Rudy’s plan was simple: bring a winner to Columbus and do it with flair. The public around Columbus, Ohio had been screaming for another professional team. It had always been said that no one could compete with the Ohio State Buckeyes for entertainment dollars, especially when it came to football. But Rudy knew that if he produced a winner, people would flock to his new stadium. Just like the shipping business, his father had owned the Cleveland football team. Rudy had inherited both after his father passed away three years ago. After what he considered a substantial waiting period he jumped at the chance to relocate the team. The people in Columbus hailed him for moving the team and could not wait for their opening game. Rudy is all about making a buck, and put on an opening day show worthy of a world’s fair atmosphere complete with marching bands, vendors, personal appearances and fireworks. The city was behind the team, mostly because of Adam. The 6 foot four, 225-pound quarterback had finished second in the Heisman trophy voting in college, was good-looking, with dark hair and eyes and in Rudy’s mind fit right with his overall marketing plan to make Adam the face of the franchise. After a couple years of NFL experience, and Rudy moving the team closer to Cincinnati, the fans would be drawn to the Capitals and who would be the benefactor? Rudy, of course. But things had not gone according to plan and Rudy was starting to get impatient.

    The team and their quarterback were mediocre at best again this year and the fans and the media were beginning to grow restless. Not only were the Columbus fans on Rudy’s back, the Cleveland fans were still angry that he moved the team in the first place. The attendance in Cleveland had been dwindling, the lease was up on the stadium, and for some reason, the town had not embraced Adam as Rudy had hoped. He hoped that moving closer to where Adam had achieved some success in college would bring out the fans. This had obviously helped, because attendance was up over the time in Columbus, but Rudy was not sure how much of that you can pin on Adam. Rudy thought that it could just be the new stadium, or a new fad on Sundays for the people of Columbus, but wasn’t sure if it was because of his young quarterback. Rudy was looking for that money-making spark to put the franchise in the black.

    Locker rooms have changed over the years with the players making millions of dollars and the surroundings looked like it. The locker room was enormous and filled with everything one could imagine. There were flat screen televisions on all of the walls, leather chairs and sofas, as well and as all the food you could imagine, healthy and not. Some of the guys seemed relieved that the season was over, laughing and joking; others, like Adam, were engulfed in the disappointment for the end of another year. The showers were beginning to empty out with only the steam remaining as Adam sat staring into his locker from one of the plush leather chairs. Guys were getting dressed, some in shirts and ties, while others cleaned their personal belongings out of their lockers for the end of the year. The joking was strictly between friends, it wasn’t a team setting this year. One of Adam’s best friends on the team made a point to stop getting dressed briefly to chat.

    Hey man, Ronnie White commented while touching Adam’s shoulder, The season is over, just be happy that you didn’t get injured seriously this year.

    Not being injured isn’t much of a consolation prize, now is it? Adam snapped to his running back teammate.

    "Come on man, it feels shitty to me too, but you’ve got to look on the bright side. I mean, we make this kind of money playing a game. The same game we played in high school and college for free. I think we’re pretty lucky."

    I wonder why the game was so much easier when you’re in high school and college.

    The dudes up here are a lot better and you’re better too. Hell, I bet if you hadn’t gotten hurt the first game of the year, you’d be in the Pro bowl. Also, maybe there were too many times that we went for it on fourth down and forever.

    You can’t second-guess the coach now. I mean you and I both thought it was the right decision.

    Adam appreciated what his friend was saying. He had hit his thumb on one of his linemen’s helmets the first game of the season and it bothered him for the rest of the season. But that was no excuse for having as many interceptions as touchdown passes; it just hurt like hell all year. Adam figured that he had sulked enough and stood up and moved towards the shower. This was Adam’s lowest point in his professional career and he didn’t like how it tasted and vowed to himself that next year would be different. He dodged teammates as they emptied into the locker room, while still talking to his friend.

    Nice of you to say, Ronnie, but you’re the one that got screwed. I mean, you had 1,500 yards and that’s not even counting the amount of receptions you had. You saved my ass from the blitz a shitload of times.

    Ronnie smiled at himself in the mirror hanging on the inside of his locker door while he fixed his tie and announced, Damn straight! That’s why you’re taking me to dinner, so you better get showered up.

    I was actually just going home, Adam answered, making his way towards the shower.

    You’ve got a new plan now. You’ll have lots of time to see your wife and daughter over the next five months. Hurry up, and get ready to spend some of that quarterbacking money on your favorite teammate.

    Adam made his way into the steam-filled shower room. There were about 40 showerheads hung high on the wall and although the 50 players and the coaches used the showers regularly during the season, it was incredibly clean. Adam looked at his surroundings and suddenly stopped feeling sorry for himself and was thankful for the profession he chose. He let the warm water rush over him and soothe his aching and bruised body. "I didn’t get beaten up too badly this year," he thought.

    The comment that he’d made to Ronnie was true. He stood in one spot thinking about the season, and the opportunities the team had squandered. Also, the opportunities he had personally and did not take advantage of. He vowed again that next year would be different.

    Those are a rookie mistakes and you’re not a rookie anymore, Adam, he said aloud to the empty shower. There were other thoughts: his wife, his daughter, but as you would expect from an athlete, his main focus was on the game and how close to success the team was. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t put forth the effort, or that his ability wasn’t there A few lucky breaks here and there, and they’d have made the playoffs, instead of going home.

    We were so close, damn it!

    I agree, son, a voice resonated through the steam.

    Adam looked around surprised because he thought he was the only one left, but once the fog began to lift if he recognized the familiar bow tie of Rudy.

    Dry it off, son, and meet me in my office before you leave.

    Adam knew whose name was on the bottom of his paycheck, so he hurried and dried and dressed, telling Ronnie on the way past that he would be back after a quick meeting with the owner. The look on Ronnie’s face was exactly the surprise that Adam was feeling. The walk to the owner’s office was long, but impressive. There were glass walls showing the extensive weight room and exercise equipment area. Sure, Adam had spent time there and seen it all before but that doesn’t mean it still wasn’t impressive — you kind of look at things differently when you’re not there to work out. Everything in the facility was spotless and state of the art. Adam knew that the cleaning staff worked hard, but he never realized just how hard. The floors were waxed and shining brightly under the fluorescent overhead lights. It even looked like they had polished the weights. It made him proud to be a member of the Capitals organization. The corridor took a sharp bend to the left and there in front of the main trophy case stood the owner.

    I’m sorry, sir, I almost ran right into you.

    That’s okay Adam.

    Do you want to go to your office?

    I thought maybe we would meet right here in front of the trophy case.

    The trophy case spanned the entire wall and was filled with memorabilia and awards from the many league championships in Cleveland. There were also division-winning plaques and various other awards displayed prominently. Rudy stood back a few feet, looking at the display case with pride. He had his hands clasped behind his back as he stood in front of the case in his expensive, black, custom-made silk suit.

    It’s been a while since we talked, hasn’t it, Adam?

    Yes sir, it has.

    You know this case has almost every award in it. I bet it’s a lot like your trophy case at home. How’s your wife, Debbie?

    She’s fine, thank you. Enjoying motherhood.

    That’s right, you had a little girl.

    Adam was somewhat surprised that Rudy remembered, with all of the things he had going on. He cleared his throat and answered, Her name is Vicki.

    Adam this case is very similar to yours at home. It’s filled with pleasant memories and some huge disappointments.

    Adam didn’t know where the boss was going with so a just nodded his head and agreed.

    There’s only one thing missing, kind of like yours. My father was able to bring a number of championships to Cleveland, but never a Super Bowl trophy. That would be the gleaming gem of this collection, wouldn’t you say? The question did not need to be answered, and Adam stood silently beside the owner as he continued. It would be like where the Heisman trophy would sit in your case, had you won that.

    Adam wondered what point Rudy was trying to make. Was it that he was a loser destined to never win the big prize, or was the old guy trying to inspire him? There is a certain amount of confidence needed to be a professional athlete and Adam had that, although it was starting to wane after each year of not succeeding. But he still felt like the team’s leader.

    Mr. Spires, sir.

    I’m sorry son …the end of the season always does this to me.

    Adam saw his opportunity and took it. I’ll bet that it wouldn’t hit you this hard if we won that damn trophy.

    I want you and everyone else to remember this conversation. I know no one else was here, but it’s kind of your responsibility to make sure the rest of the team feels what you are feeling right now. You have to be a leader, set the tone — and that tone does not include losing. Do you understand what I’m saying?

    I know what it feels like to come in second, it sucks! You’re the first loser and that’s all that you are.

    Remember that feeling and harness it, because this might be the only chance you get to beat it. Say hi to your wife and Vicki.

    That was the owner’s exiting statement which shocked Adam. He was waiting for more complete instructions, more direction on what he should do, but it never came. Rudy’s footsteps echoed through the empty facility as he walked to his office. Adam stood there alone, staring into the trophy case. I know what you want. I’ll do anything to make it happen, he whispered to himself.

    Hey, are you alone?

    Yeah, I was just looking at the trophy case after the boss left.

    Adam exhaled deeply and when Ronnie asked how the conversation went, he just kind of rolled his eyes and put his arm slightly around his buddy, I’m taking you to dinner, man.

    Damn right — and you better have enough cash for a few cocktails too. I plan on celebrating, he said with a smile.

    You bet, I do. I could use one myself, Adam answered as the two strolled away from the facility into a cold Columbus night.

    CHAPTER 2

    R icky Crane was impressed by the sheer size of New York City, the enormity of the buildings, not to mention the amount of people. He had been here once before for the Heisman Trophy presentation, but had been too overwhelmed to soak in everything. He thought back to his upbringing in rural Shelby Ohio, and there was just no comparison. The hotel bar was bigger than any bar back home and it was filled with characters. They added to the big city feel, fitting all of the stereotypes that he expected. There were guys dressed like they worked on Wall Street and women that look like they worked the streets. It was a strange scene for the blue-collar quarterback, but one that he was enjoying because of the diversity and the fact that he knew he was going home the day after tomorrow.

    Ricky had done enough hard work at the Bowling Green State University to earn his spot at tomorrow’s NFL draft. He sat in the restaurant/bar waiting for one of Bowling Green’s most successful alumni to join him for a drink— Bruce Tobin, a lineman for the New York Giants, who had been in the league for ten years. He was from Shelby, too, and they had met once before. Ricky thought he could explain how things would go tomorrow. Ricky’s parents had sprung for the room at a hotel close to Radio City Music Hall, where the draft was taking place. Ricky found it amazing how New Yorkers were unfazed by the people that they saw. If some dude walked into a bar back home dressed like that he’d be lucky to make it out alive – but here nobody even looks twice, he thought.

    Ricky’s parents were going to join he and Bruce at a later time, if necessary, and he was excited as hell for tomorrow and with

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