Jeremy’s office was silent except for the faint hum of the air conditioning and the distant echo of footsteps in the Denver Coliseum’s hallways. He sat at his desk, phone pressed to his ear, heart pounding as he waited for Jenifer Walter’s answer. The world outside might have been spinning with rumors and speculation, but in this moment, everything hinged on a single word.There was a pause—a breath, a heartbeat, a lifetime—then Jenifer’s voice came through, clear and steady. “Jeremy, I’ll take the job. I want to be the Head Coach of the Colorado Cannibals.”Jeremy exhaled, a grin spreading across his face. He kept his composure, but his voice was electric with excitement. “Jenifer, we’re going to do great things together. In addition to being Head Coach, you’ll be Assistant General Manager and have a real say over personnel decisions. I want to say this before anyone in the media or anywhere else gets the wrong idea: I’m hiring you because I believe you’ll lead the Cannibals to great
Morning sunlight slanted through the office window, splashing across the polished wood of Jeremy Davis’s desk. The Denver Coliseum was waking up, full of purposeful footsteps and distant shouts, but Jeremy still felt like he was living in a half-dream. The last week had been a whirlwind: press conferences, Jennifer Walter’s hiring, and an endless stream of speculation from every corner of the sports world.He sat back in his chair, still savoring the small, quiet moments before his schedule took over. His phone buzzed, vibrating insistently across the desk. Without looking at the caller ID, he picked up—old habits from his coaching days when any call could be a crisis.“Jeremy Davis,” he answered.A familiar, grating laugh oozed through the receiver. “Well, well, Jeremy! Didn’t know you were taking tips from the Pelaratti playbook these days.”Jeremy’s free hand curled into a fist. “Tommy Pelaratti,” he said, his voice flat.“The one and only!” Tommy’s voice dripped with sleazy confid
The whir of the electric razor buzzed lightly as Jeremy Davis finished trimming his beard in the mirror, his thoughts swirling with anticipation and anxiety. The Denver morning was brisk, sunlight spilling over the snow-capped Rockies and into the window of his high-rise apartment. He straightened his navy tie, tugged the knot just right, and pulled on a tailored charcoal suit—sharp, modern, understated but strong. Today was the day ESPN came to town. Today was another day to set the record straight.His phone chimed—a message from Melissa, reassuring and efficient as always.“Camera crew’s setting up. You’re on at 10. They brought extra lights. Usual interview room.”Jeremy smiled. He could count on Melissa. He could count on Jenifer Walter, too—his new head coach had already spent the morning in the film room breaking down last year’s tape with the Cannibals’ scouting staff. For the first time in a long while, Jeremy felt like the organization was exactly where it should be: at the
Downtown Denver pulsed with twilight energy as neon signs flickered alive and laughter spilled out of bustling bistros. Inside The Gold Cleat—part high-end steakhouse, part sports shrine—Jenifer Walter and Alexandra Jordan sat tucked in a corner booth. Polished cutlery and stemless glasses sparkled under golden light. Football memorabilia—framed jerseys, signed balls, old newspaper clippings—climbed the walls. But tonight, the famous faces and heroic headlines faded into the background, leaving just two women, a table of food, and the unfinished business of dreams and wounds.For a while, they just enjoyed the simple pleasure of a hot meal and the company of someone who understood the grind. Jenifer was in her signature sharp black blazer and jeans; Alexandra wore her hair in a simple ponytail, crisp white shirt rolled at the sleeves. They swapped stories—two warriors swapping battle tales.“So there was this one game back in the WFL,” Jenifer grinned, forking into her steak, “third-a
Alexandra Jordan’s downtown apartment, perched high above a city lit in electric gold, was a familiar after-practice haven for her best friends—and fellow Denver Outlaws teammates—Heather and Alicia. The coffee table was cluttered with takeout boxes, cans of sparkling water, and the scarred deck of cards they used when deep talks called for a distraction. The TV muttered game highlights into the background, unheeded.Tonight, the air was different. After nearly an hour of mindless TV and the usual banter, Alexandra finally spilled what had been on her mind since her dinner with Jenifer Walter at The Gold Cleat.“So that’s what happened,” she finished, tracing the rim of her glass as she watched Heather and Alicia’s reactions. “Jenifer was…straight with me. And for the first time, it felt like someone really saw what was going on inside my head, not just what everyone expects from me on the field.”Heather, lounged out on the couch in sweats, flashed her a reassuring smile. “It sounds
The conference room inside the Denver Coliseum was a world apart from the roaring crowds and the echoing footsteps of hopeful athletes. Here, the air hummed with anticipation and the scent of strong coffee. Sunlight spilled through tall windows, illuminating stacks of scouting reports, video tablets, and two thick binders—one marked “JENIFER” in bold, the other “JEREMY.”At the head of the table, Jeremy Davis leaned forward, elbows braced, a familiar spark in his eyes. Across from him, Jenifer Walter sat with her own notepad, her posture relaxed but her gaze razor-sharp. This was the heart of the Colorado Cannibals’ future: two football minds, one vision, and the daunting task of sculpting a 25-player roster that would not just compete, but define a new era.The silence between them was comfortable, broken only by the occasional shuffle of paper or the tap of a stylus. They’d already spent hours debating schemes, culture, and the kind of team they wanted to build. Now, it was time for
The Denver skyline shimmered in the crisp October sunlight, the city’s pulse quickening with the promise of a new football era. Alexandra Jordan sat cross-legged on her apartment couch, a mug of coffee cooling between her hands, when her phone buzzed with an incoming call. The name on the screen—Jenifer Walter—sent a flutter through her chest. She took a steadying breath and answered.“Hey, Coach.”“Alexandra, good morning!” Jenifer’s voice was bright but businesslike. “I wanted to catch you before the press conference this afternoon. We’ve got some news.”Alexandra straightened, curiosity piqued. “What’s up?”“We’ve agreed to terms and signed Trisha Steinmetz as our quarterback, along with a couple of other pieces. We’ll be announcing the signings later today. I wanted you to hear it from me first, not the media.”Alexandra’s eyebrows rose. “Trisha, huh? I’m not surprised. She’s a baller, and Jeremy was her QB coach last year. Her game really jumped a level under him.”Jenifer chuckl
Jeremy Davis just finished a historic college career at Colorado, winning awards and winning back-to-back national championships in his Junior and Senior years. Jeremy was the most prized collegiate player heading into the NAFL, North American Football League; every team wanted him for various reasons due to his unselfish play, being a great teammate, making everyone feel included, his drive and focus, strong arm, great legs/footwork. He was the prototypical dual-threat NAFL Quarterback standing at 6'5" and weighing 220 lbs with black wavy hair that was kinda slicked back to his shoulders, sparkling angelic blue eyes, clean cut only because he couldn't figure out what kind of facial hair he wanted. he had a charming athletic muscular body that even men would stop and admire.He would be the first overall pick in the NAFL draft; everyone had known that for a couple of years. Most people were surprised that He didn't forgo his senior year and go pro. He wanted to give back to Colorado f
The Denver skyline shimmered in the crisp October sunlight, the city’s pulse quickening with the promise of a new football era. Alexandra Jordan sat cross-legged on her apartment couch, a mug of coffee cooling between her hands, when her phone buzzed with an incoming call. The name on the screen—Jenifer Walter—sent a flutter through her chest. She took a steadying breath and answered.“Hey, Coach.”“Alexandra, good morning!” Jenifer’s voice was bright but businesslike. “I wanted to catch you before the press conference this afternoon. We’ve got some news.”Alexandra straightened, curiosity piqued. “What’s up?”“We’ve agreed to terms and signed Trisha Steinmetz as our quarterback, along with a couple of other pieces. We’ll be announcing the signings later today. I wanted you to hear it from me first, not the media.”Alexandra’s eyebrows rose. “Trisha, huh? I’m not surprised. She’s a baller, and Jeremy was her QB coach last year. Her game really jumped a level under him.”Jenifer chuckl
The conference room inside the Denver Coliseum was a world apart from the roaring crowds and the echoing footsteps of hopeful athletes. Here, the air hummed with anticipation and the scent of strong coffee. Sunlight spilled through tall windows, illuminating stacks of scouting reports, video tablets, and two thick binders—one marked “JENIFER” in bold, the other “JEREMY.”At the head of the table, Jeremy Davis leaned forward, elbows braced, a familiar spark in his eyes. Across from him, Jenifer Walter sat with her own notepad, her posture relaxed but her gaze razor-sharp. This was the heart of the Colorado Cannibals’ future: two football minds, one vision, and the daunting task of sculpting a 25-player roster that would not just compete, but define a new era.The silence between them was comfortable, broken only by the occasional shuffle of paper or the tap of a stylus. They’d already spent hours debating schemes, culture, and the kind of team they wanted to build. Now, it was time for
Alexandra Jordan’s downtown apartment, perched high above a city lit in electric gold, was a familiar after-practice haven for her best friends—and fellow Denver Outlaws teammates—Heather and Alicia. The coffee table was cluttered with takeout boxes, cans of sparkling water, and the scarred deck of cards they used when deep talks called for a distraction. The TV muttered game highlights into the background, unheeded.Tonight, the air was different. After nearly an hour of mindless TV and the usual banter, Alexandra finally spilled what had been on her mind since her dinner with Jenifer Walter at The Gold Cleat.“So that’s what happened,” she finished, tracing the rim of her glass as she watched Heather and Alicia’s reactions. “Jenifer was…straight with me. And for the first time, it felt like someone really saw what was going on inside my head, not just what everyone expects from me on the field.”Heather, lounged out on the couch in sweats, flashed her a reassuring smile. “It sounds
Downtown Denver pulsed with twilight energy as neon signs flickered alive and laughter spilled out of bustling bistros. Inside The Gold Cleat—part high-end steakhouse, part sports shrine—Jenifer Walter and Alexandra Jordan sat tucked in a corner booth. Polished cutlery and stemless glasses sparkled under golden light. Football memorabilia—framed jerseys, signed balls, old newspaper clippings—climbed the walls. But tonight, the famous faces and heroic headlines faded into the background, leaving just two women, a table of food, and the unfinished business of dreams and wounds.For a while, they just enjoyed the simple pleasure of a hot meal and the company of someone who understood the grind. Jenifer was in her signature sharp black blazer and jeans; Alexandra wore her hair in a simple ponytail, crisp white shirt rolled at the sleeves. They swapped stories—two warriors swapping battle tales.“So there was this one game back in the WFL,” Jenifer grinned, forking into her steak, “third-a
The whir of the electric razor buzzed lightly as Jeremy Davis finished trimming his beard in the mirror, his thoughts swirling with anticipation and anxiety. The Denver morning was brisk, sunlight spilling over the snow-capped Rockies and into the window of his high-rise apartment. He straightened his navy tie, tugged the knot just right, and pulled on a tailored charcoal suit—sharp, modern, understated but strong. Today was the day ESPN came to town. Today was another day to set the record straight.His phone chimed—a message from Melissa, reassuring and efficient as always.“Camera crew’s setting up. You’re on at 10. They brought extra lights. Usual interview room.”Jeremy smiled. He could count on Melissa. He could count on Jenifer Walter, too—his new head coach had already spent the morning in the film room breaking down last year’s tape with the Cannibals’ scouting staff. For the first time in a long while, Jeremy felt like the organization was exactly where it should be: at the
Morning sunlight slanted through the office window, splashing across the polished wood of Jeremy Davis’s desk. The Denver Coliseum was waking up, full of purposeful footsteps and distant shouts, but Jeremy still felt like he was living in a half-dream. The last week had been a whirlwind: press conferences, Jennifer Walter’s hiring, and an endless stream of speculation from every corner of the sports world.He sat back in his chair, still savoring the small, quiet moments before his schedule took over. His phone buzzed, vibrating insistently across the desk. Without looking at the caller ID, he picked up—old habits from his coaching days when any call could be a crisis.“Jeremy Davis,” he answered.A familiar, grating laugh oozed through the receiver. “Well, well, Jeremy! Didn’t know you were taking tips from the Pelaratti playbook these days.”Jeremy’s free hand curled into a fist. “Tommy Pelaratti,” he said, his voice flat.“The one and only!” Tommy’s voice dripped with sleazy confid
Jeremy’s office was silent except for the faint hum of the air conditioning and the distant echo of footsteps in the Denver Coliseum’s hallways. He sat at his desk, phone pressed to his ear, heart pounding as he waited for Jenifer Walter’s answer. The world outside might have been spinning with rumors and speculation, but in this moment, everything hinged on a single word.There was a pause—a breath, a heartbeat, a lifetime—then Jenifer’s voice came through, clear and steady. “Jeremy, I’ll take the job. I want to be the Head Coach of the Colorado Cannibals.”Jeremy exhaled, a grin spreading across his face. He kept his composure, but his voice was electric with excitement. “Jenifer, we’re going to do great things together. In addition to being Head Coach, you’ll be Assistant General Manager and have a real say over personnel decisions. I want to say this before anyone in the media or anywhere else gets the wrong idea: I’m hiring you because I believe you’ll lead the Cannibals to great
Jeremy Davis stood at the podium, the glare of television lights painting his suit in harsh relief. The press conference room inside the Denver Coliseum was packed—sportswriters, TV crews, bloggers, and a sea of Colorado Cannibals fans pressed against the back wall. The air buzzed with anticipation, the kind that comes before a storm, and Jeremy could feel every eye fixed on him.He gripped the edge of the podium, steadying himself. “Thank you all for coming,” he began, his voice resonant and calm. “I want to thank everyone at the Wild West Indoor Football League, the Colorado sports fans, and the media for your support and dedication to this team. Today marks an exciting new chapter for the Colorado Cannibals.”A ripple of camera clicks and shifting bodies swept through the room.Jeremy continued, “As many of you know, Terrell Hillis has accepted a position as the running backs coach for the Denver Mustangs in the NAFL. I want to wish Terrell the best in this new opportunity. He’s mo
Jeremy Davis sat hunched over his desk, elbows planted on the polished oak, fingers steepled in front of his lips. The office—his office—inside the Denver Coliseum was a study in contrasts: the world outside was a cacophony of echoing footsteps, distant cheers, and the metallic clatter of preparation, while within these four walls, the air was thick with tension and the scent of old leather and fresh coffee.Melissa perched on the edge of the visitor’s chair, her notepad balanced on her knee, pen poised but unmoving. She watched Jeremy with the kind of concern that only comes from months of shared late nights and early mornings. Across from her, sprawled in the battered armchair, was Luke Elliot, owner of the Omaha Cattlemen and Jeremy’s oldest friend in the league. Luke’s boots were crossed at the ankle, his hat tipped back, a wry smile playing at his lips as he watched Jeremy wrestle with the decision.Jeremy exhaled, the sound heavy in the quiet.“So, here’s where we are,” he said,