Writing Liberation: The story of Michael Burke [PG]

[Yoda]

This story is based around the life of an athlete. Just to give a bit of background, Michael Burke was a man who played American Football in college as a quarterback, and had the talent and ability to move onto a professional career in the National Football League [NFL]. Without wanting to give too much away, lets just say that his life took a turn for the worse, and he now finds himself with a lifestyle much less glorious than the glamorous life of a sports personality.

I don't know what kind of interest this will gather, but let me say that it will be as much about Michael and the personal journey he goes through as it will sport itself.

-A disclaimer before I start. I know very little about college football, so any reference to it is pure fiction, and anything that is actually true is purely coincidental.
================================

[I]"It's not whether you get knocked down. It's whether you get up"[/I] - Vincent Lombardi.

[I]"In my mind... I always do it right. I can see everything happening. I call "Hike", and the Centre snaps the ball into my hands. I don't even look at the ball to ensure I grasp it, the motion of the snap between Johnny [The Centre] had been practiced so many times over recent years it was automatic to us, almost like a breath or a blink. I begin to drop back, raising the ball so it's tip is almost at my chin. Nine juggernauts before me; the linemen, begin their battles. The defensive linemen attack, like ravenous wolves, thirsty for my blood. Their only job: to get to me. On the other side is the offensive line, my offensive line, there to protect me... to keep the wolves at bay. Every one of them over 6'3" and well over 300lbs. I was only 6'... but I saw straight past them all.

A glance to the left, seeing my Split End fake right, and break left past the Cornerback covering him. A glance to the right, and I see my Slot Reciever cut left to head across the middle of the field. My Flanker is already 3 yards past his Cornerback, streaking straight towards the Endzone. The right-side Linebacker blitzes... another man sent to kill me, but my Tailback moves out from behind me and dives at his knees, taking away the Linebacker's legs from under him, a technique known as 'cut blocking'. It wouldn't have mattered if he had missed the block; the ball was already leaving my hand.

The ball left in a perfect spiral, it's oval body cutting through the air as it headed right, in a perfect arc that would meet the Flanker just as he reached the Endzone. Michael and everyone around him on the field were silent, motionless, all watching in horror and anticipation as the ball reached it's apex and began to descend. Defenders praying for a drop, attackers praying for a catch. The Flanker glanced back over his left shoulder, and saw the ball heading his was. His eyes widened and his heart skipped as he extended his arms... and grasped the ball as his feet crossed the line into the Endzone. A moment of disbelief crosses over everyone: the platyers, coaches and fans... and then an eruption of noise fills the stadium. Everyone associated with the Trojans' organisation goes berserk, jumping and cheering for their team: they had just won the Orange Bowl."[/I]

Too bad it would only ever be a dream...

Michael sat slumped on the couch infront of his TV, watching the tape from that Orange Bowl game. His eyes glazed over, partly from fatigue, partly from boredom, and partly because he had just finished smoking a joint. He had never smoked or drunk his whole life... he had been the model pro when it came to football. But now, because of that one play, his life had turned around. He silently mouthed the commentary as it was announced on the tape.

[I]"It's now third and short with the Trojans trailing the Hurricanes 27-21 with only 32 seconds left on the clock. This will be the 12th play of this game deciding drive."

"That's right Dan, and Burke has been spectacular on this drive, completing 5 of 6 passes attempted to lead his team into scoring position. Again this kid is proving why he is a top draft pick."

"True, but don't lead too much into this yet Chris... the game's not over yet and if Burke has one weakness in his game it's that his judgement seems suspect when the game is on the line. Remember what happened this time last year?"

"Ooh, that was brutal on the kid. But now he's a year older and a year wiser, lets hope he can redeem himself here."[/I]

This tape was from the Orange Bowl two years ago. Time and use had worn the tapes quality; it skipped and jumped from time to time, but it was still viewable. Michael spurted a cough, and then sighed. There were times when he would have been fighting back tears watching this, but no longer. He didn't know why he watched it anymore.

The reference the commentary team made to "last year" was from the Orange Bowl the year before. Michael had lead his team there for the first time, and, with the game on the line, had literally thrown the game away with an interception. It had devastated Michael, he felt as though he had let everyone down. A year later, he was back, in a situation ominously like the previous years'. He had been determined to rectify his mistake...

[I]"Burke takes the snap and drops back..."[/I]

Michael's gaze was fixed on the screen. A childish desperation inside hoped that this time... this time it would get into the Endzone, and that he would wake up, and everything would be different. Reality hurt...

[I]"There's severe pressure on the pocket. Burke pump fakes, and rolls right out of the pocket, narrowly avoiding the tackle from Shaun Payne."[/I]

Michael felt a slight tingling deep in his chest. A part of him still longed for the gridiron... for most of his life it had been the only place he felt truly free. Now it had become his prison.

[I]"Burke throws down the sideline... Payton has broken away from his coverage, but the Safety moves over and-it-is PICKED OFF IN THE ENDZONE! Taylor takes a knee for the touchback. Unbelievable catch by the Safety there to intercept the ball right from Payton's grasp. That'll be it folks, the Hurricanes just have to take a knee on the next play to run out the clock; the Trojan's have no more time-outs."

"And just look at Michael Burke... he is in pieces. He is lying on hs knees on the sideline, his head in his hands. He knows he's just thrown away another championship Chris."

"Oh man... you can't help but feel sorry for the kid. Sure he's going to be a top NFL pick soon, and he'll make all the money in the world... but this game meant everything to him. He really wanted to make amends to the team and his fans from last year."[/I]

A top NFL pick... that's what he was by title. Right now Michael could be playing football amongst the best players in the world. But that Orange Bowl was the last time he had stepped onto the field.

[Gavin]

[SIZE=1]That was without a shadow of a doubt sheer brilliance, I have only a small knowledge of American Football but that was written with such meaning that it didn't require knowledge. I mean I've read stuff that was well written before but there was real heart put into this Craig and I mean that, you can put yourself in Michael's position and see it from his perspective. It seems you've honed your skills quite a bit since you left us and I look forward to reading more about Mr Burke. [/SIZE]

[Yoda]

Cheers Gav, it's nice to know my work is appreciated.
--------------------------------------------------------

Draft day... one of the most memorable days in a sports personalities life. The day they step out of the shadow of amatuer sports, into the big leagues... the professional stage. It was the day when an NFL team told the entire world that they wanted you on their roster. All the top predicted picks were invited to New York City, to be present when a team's official drafted them. It was a very PR friendly process... they selected you, you acted happy and practically waltzed upto the stage, put on your new team's cap and took a photograph holding up your new teams jersey, with your name on it over the number 1. Michael did not attend the event, but had watched it on TV.

[i]"And with the number 2 pick in the 2002 NFL draft, the Carolina Panthers select quarterback Michael Burke of USC."[/i]

Michael remembered the sinking feeling in his gut the second his name was mentioned... the overwhelming urge to vomit, to cry, to crawl into a hole and die. This is why he couldn't attend the event. No matter what team had selected him, good or bad, the very thought of stepping back onto the gridiron... to work so hard for so long, only to be drown in misery, sickened him to his core. There was no way he could have forced a smile and a happy demenour; these feelings were in opposition to how he really felt.

He thought back... a number 2 pick, and a quarterback no less. That meant a 6 year deal worth over $40 million. [i]Forty million dollars...[/i] Instead, he now worked for $12 on a factory floor outside of Fort Worth, Texas. His girlfriend of over 2 years; Jennifer, had left him, sick of the man he had become; constantly depressed, lazy, unsociable, and increasingly uninterested in her. [i]"Serves your right Mike".[/i] He thought to himself. [i]"You never deserved her anyway..."[/i]

He remembered the endless calls from the Carolina Panthers organisation... all of which went unanswered. He remembered the endless speculation in the media... the countless hours of coverage on "Sports Centre", believing it to be a hold out over contract money. Back then, money was the last thing on his mind. It was just... the thought of playing. You play football for the love of the game; the competition, the ambition... the thought of throwing the game winning touchdown. Michael tried to imagine such moments... but every time he did, the only thing he thought about was that one play, and because of that, the only things he associated with football were pain and misery.

He remembered the ball leave his hand... the throw was perfect. His heart skipped and his whole body shook with excitement, and then, out of his peripherals, he saw the Safety... and his stomach churned. Then all he could do was watch as two sets of hands grasped at the ball, and the Safety, far stronger than the Reciever, simply ripped the ball from the Reciever's hands... and Michael's world fell apart. Right there, at that moment.

Eventually the Panthers stopped calling, and the media stopped speculating, and the hype died down... and Michael went from one of football's most promising athletes, to one of it's biggest busts. Carolina had gone without a 1st round pick because of him... a pick they could have used to draft Canick, or Jones, or Smith, any one of the other top quarterbacks elligible for selection that year. That thought only added to Michael's misery.

-------------------------------

Dallas Cowboys head coach Bill Parcells watched as new veteran signing; 41 year old quarterback Vinny Testaverde, dropped back and hit Antonio Bryant on a short curl route.

[i]"He hasn't lost a step"[/i] Parcells commented to offensive coordinator Mike Carthon.

Carthon nodded. [i]"You think he'll beat out Carter for the starting spot?"[/i]

Parcells shrugged dismissively. [i]"The best player will play. Henson's been showing some spark too..."[/i]

[i]"What about Romo though... he's looking real rusty. He's got no pocket presence and hasn't improved on reading defences..."[/i]

[i]"That's why he's the fourth string QB."[/i]

[i]"Yeah Bill, but still, you think maybe we should bring a few scrubs in... maybe we'll find an improvement for Romo. If not, atleast it'll keep him on his toes. It's only camp after all."[/i]

Bill speculated for a moment, and then nodded. [i]"Fine, I'll get the scouts on it. More importantly, I have a running game to sort out. How's Julius handling things?"[/i]

[i]"He looks sharp, the kid's got some wheels on him. It wouldn't hurt to try and get Eddie George in here if the Titans release him though."[/i]

[i]Bill gave Mike a speculative look. [I]"That depends if the price is right Mike. Remember, money is the only reason Eddie isn't still a Titan."[/i]

At that moment, an assistant came jogging over... looking introvert and nervous, a condition that came over most people that were around Bill Parcells.

[i]"Coach Parcells... Mr, Mr Jones wants to see you in his office."[/i]

[i]"Oh God, what is it this time?"[/i]



Michael threw open his front door, and it swung wildly into a collision with the wall. The door never would open without a lot of effort. Just another thing in Michael's life that never went properly. He had just arrived home from another shift at work, which meant 10 hours of boring repetative tasks. So, as always, Michael came home feeling grouchy and fatigued. He walked into the living room of his 1 room apartment, kicking off his shoes as he was met by the phone ringing.

Michael wouldn't answer it... the phone meant banks, or his landlord, or credit card companies, just someone else trying to take money from him. [i]" Let the money hungry bastards talk to the answer machine"[/i]. He walked into the bathroom, tossing his shirt into the laundry basket as he flipped the shower on. He took a look at himself in the mirror... he was still in pretty good shape, but nowhere near the state he was in college. There he had been built like a rock, but now his chest started to show signs of flab. His eyes looked tired, they always looked tired, and he was more pale now than he had ever been growing up.

Michael stepped into the shower, and flinched. The water was freezing. [i]Great...[/i] He thought. That meant the landlord had turned off his hot water, which meant the rest of his night included a cold shower, and another conversation with the landlord where he shouted for half an hour about how Michael never paid his rent on time, and then after that still took half of Michael's new pay check.

After a quick shower, he stepped out and threw a towel around his waist. He walked back into the living room and looked at the clock on top of his TV. 6:41pm... He sighed, then walked over to the phone, and hit a button on his answering machine.

[i]"You have two new messages...[/i]

[i]"Here it comes..."[/i]

[i]"First new message:... Hey Mike it's Riley."[/i]

[i]"Oh great, the boss..."[/i]

[i]"Listen buddy, I forgot to tell you before you left today, but we're going to be a little short-handed tomorrow... so could you come in a little early? If there's no bother, give me a ring and we'll sort out the details. And don't worry, it'll be overtime pay."[/i]

Finally, some good news. His social life was basically non-existent, so any chance of overtime he could get his hands on he took. Money was money, after all.

[i]"Second new message:..."[/i]

[i]"And here comes the message that takes my overtime money..."[/i]

[i]"Ugh... Hey, Mr. Burke, this is James Davies with the Dallas Cowboys scouting department."[/i]

[i]"Lets get straight to the point guys. Carter's results just came back in, and their positive."[/i] Head coach Bill Parcells reported to the rest of his coaching staff.

The atmosphere in the room dimmed. Quincy Carter, last season's starting Quarterback for the Cowboys, had just failed his second drugs test. He and Parcell's had hit a rough patch recently, through personal problems as well as Carter's poor play. Once speculation of Carter's drug addictions had re-surfaced, Parcell's had promised that he would release Carter if he was tested positive.

Maurice Carthon, the offensive co-ordinator, looked at Parcell's, slightly saddened. [i]"What are ya gonna do Bill?"[/i]

[i]"Oh, he's gone. Me and Jerry already talked about it, and neither of us want him in a Cowboys uniform anymore. In the end, we just can't rely on the kid."[/i]

Carthon nodded. [i]"Well, atleast now we've got the QB's down to three..."[/i]

Sean Payton, the Quarterback coach, stepped in. [i]"Yeah, but if I'm honest, Romo's not a guy I'd want going in to the regular season as my number three. He's struggling even to manage the practice squad. The only bonus about him is his salary is dirt cheap."[/i]

[i]"I thought you guys were bringing in a few QB's to try out?"[/i] Parcells added.

[i]"Oh, yea..."[/i] Payton suddenly remembering the only reason he was even in the room. [i]"We found a few undrafters from this year's draft... as well as a guy you might be interested in."[/i]

Payton handed Parcell's several files. Parcells quickly paged through them.

[i]"Frank Ingram... Theodore Hunter... Michael Burke... Michael Burke?"[/i]

[i]"Yea..."[/i]

[i]"USC's Michael Burke?"[/i]

[i]"The same."[/i]

[i]"You... you're serious? The guy never showed up once for the Panthers, why would he come play for us?"[/i]

[i]"Hey, the kid's been a Cowboys fan his whole life, plus he's had a few years off... maybe he's got his fire back. I thought it was worth a try anyway, it's only camp after all."[/i]

Parcell's shook his head half-heartedly, then smiled, like he couldn't believe what he was about to say. [i]"Fine, bring him in... it might even turn a few heads. Now, on to the running back's. Did Eddie George pass his physical?"[/i]

[i]"Sure did Coach."[/i] Strength coach Joe Juraszek commented. [i]"The guy's a machine..."[/i]

[i]"Good. I'll get an offer put on the table."[/i]


[i]"The Dallas Cowboys? That's great man, this could be your chance..."[/i] Michael's friend Donovan remarked over the phone.

Don had become Michael's closest friend since he left college. He had basically left his old life behind after college, including his friends and his family. He had met Don once he started working at the factory, so he had only known him just over a year. Still, this was the only person he could imagine talking to about this...

[i]"I haven't played in two years though... I'll only embarass myself."[/i]

[i]"So what? That Henson guy they got there has been playin' baseball the last four years, so if you're rusty, imagine the state he'll be in. You were always a better QB than him anyways..."[/i]

He was right. Henson had been a good college quarterback... but Michael, he was a great. The fourth highest passer rating ever in NCAA Football, and had led his team to two championship games. Most quarterbacks dream of having that type of career in college.

[i]"Atleast Henson's been keepin' in shape all this time though man... I'm in no state to play in the NFL."[/i]

[i]"Look Mike, this is your chance. The one chance you might have to get out of that shithole we're working in every day. You seem to be asking me for advice when you already know what you should do."[/i]

Don seemed to be able to find sence in everyone elses life but his own. As usual, his advice was flawless, no BS, no false sympathy. It was typical 'guy' advice, no sugar coating, just basically told you to shut up and get on with it.

[i]"Oh man, I just hope I don't get drug tested."[/i]

This drew a chuckle from Don. Most of the guys on the factory floor were on the reefer. It was something they took that made their lives seem a little less crappy, if only for a short while.

[i]"So..."[/i] Don replied. [i]"You're gonna go for it?"[/i]
[font=Verdana][/font]
[font=Verdana][size=1][color=red]Please do not double post. You should simply edit the original post if you need to add something to it. -- Lady Asphyxia[/color][/size][/font]