Infinity(85)
Year Four Post-Retirement
…“Former Dallas quarterback and spokesman for Ford, Colin McKinney, has been spotted for the first time in public in four years. McKinney was photographed, along with his dog, putting gas in his famous truck that he calls Bertha. If you remember, this truck made an appearance at both Super Bowls that Dallas won and was considered the team’s unofficial mascot. As you can see from the photograph above, McKinney looks healthy, and witnesses report he was walking without a limp. This is contrary to earlier news stories that he had been seen walking with the aid of a cane.”
Year Five Post-Retirement
… “McKinney in the Hall of Fame? You’ve got to be kidding me. The most selfish player to ever toss a ball doesn’t deserve to have his bust displayed amongst football’s greatest in Canton, Ohio. Maybe he could be in the Hall of Fame of the most despicable players. He can stand next to OJ Simpson. I question what the nominating committee was thinking. Yes, I’ll grant you, the guy put up Hall of Fame numbers, and was a two-time Super Bowl winner and awarded the MVP trophy twice, but he let his team down. What about his character off the field? McKinney should still be playing, not have taken five years off to drive car pool. What kind of numbers has Dallas put up without him? The big zero. The most selfish player to ever toss the football does not deserve to be in the Hall of Fame.”
…“I’ll grant you that character is an important quality for Hall of Fame consideration, however, McKinney didn’t kill anybody. He’s never been accused of a crime, except maybe prescription pain-pill abuse, but even that was just speculation. There was never a shred of evidence to validate the claims. Did the guy retire from football at the top of his career? Sure. Did he leave his team high and dry? Yes. Should that keep him out of the hall? In my opinion, no it shouldn’t. You put up the numbers. You don’t have a criminal record. Then, you should be a Hall of Fame candidate.”
…“Colin McKinney has been elected into the Football Hall of Fame in Canton, Ohio, although his selection has not come without its share of controversy. We’ve been told by sources that fans have decided to organize a jersey burning protest outside of the Hall of Fame facilities to let the selection committee know just how upset they are with their choice. McKinney did the impossible. He retired from the sport of football at the top of his career. Five years later, and fans still seem to be just as upset at McKinney’s decision.”
Chapter Twenty
Colin
I toss the football up in the air with my left hand. Once. Twice. Thrice. I catch it each time and toss it again. I repeat this motion for an undefined period of time. Thoughts Ping-Pong around my brain, yet there’s nothing distinguishable that I can cling to. How’s this possible? Who knows?
The only sound is the pigskin slapping against my hand every time I catch it. I’m kicked back in my maroon leather desk-chair staring at the lake, our lake, through my wall of windows. I’ll never tire of watching the moonlight dance across the gentle waves of the water. This is the most beautiful and tranquil place on earth. I designed my office space—separate from the main house—to look out on our lake. We’ve affectionately named it Lake CharCol.
The dark wood floors in my office are buffed with enough shine to reflect a sliver of the moonlight bathing my office in shades of grey. It never occurred to me turn on the desk lamp when I came to my office to take Aiden’s phone call.
I’m sure a casual observer would wonder how it’s possible to toss a football up in the air and catch it every time without watching it fall. Most people have to see what they’re catching. The casual observer wouldn’t realize that I’m Colin McKinney, two-time Super Bowl-winning MVP quarterback for the Dallas Cowboys. Or I was.
The casual observer would note the greying hair around my temples, and the dust of scruff on my face, as well as the lines that etch my eyes from years of playing football in the hot Texas sun. The casual observer better also note that I’m in good shape for a man in my late thirties. Hell! I’m in damn good shape for a man in my twenties. I’ve kept my player physique, which sold a metric ton of underwear, sports clothes, trucks, and cologne for various companies. The Brad Pitt of football… or I was.
I could color the grey away, but why? I’ve earned every single one of those hairs. They’re a rite a passage for me—a badge of honor—almost.
I toss the football up in the air and catch it, speaking for the first time in minutes? Hours? I’m lost in my own thoughts, and right now, they’re not a pretty place to be. You’d think that a first ballot induction to the Football Hall of Fame would be a good thing. It’s amazing for apparently every football player but me.