12-13-2021, 07:36 PM
(This post was last modified: 12-16-2021, 10:22 AM by allbetsonjames. Edited 6 times in total.)
Wasrabi Gleel approached the podium. As he did so the room filled with the sound of flashbulbs and camera shutters. Despite the low-thrumming of the central heating unit, the air in the conference room of the Chicago Butchers practice facility felt cold on his fingers as he readjusted the microphone.
“Welcome, folks. It’s good to be back in front of y’all. I’m ready to answer some questions.” He spoke in the usual monotone that implied an air of dignitas. There was something new in that tone, though; something that had been creeping into his expression since the beginning of last season–He sounded tired.
A sea of hands raised and more than a few people began murmuring into smartphones pressed against their ears. He pointed at a reporter in the third row. She stood up and held out a digital voice recorder in his general direction.
“Wasrabi, why have you called this press conference today?”
“I had a feeling that was going to be the first question.” He said with an easy smile, promoting a few soft chuckles. He continued. “I’ve been in touch with Coach Jenkins over the weekend, and we’ve come to the conclusion that my role on the team would be best served at another position.”
Cue a loud swell of the flashbulbs, the shutters, the phone chatter. Gleel pointed to a different reporter. A portly man with a wax-tip mustache stood up from the first row.
“Which position are you switching to, Wasrabi, and do you feel like this change is a representation of your diminished role in this defense?”
“To answer your first question, I’ve decided to switch to Defensive End. Coach and I were going over the game tape, and it became clear that the defensive line was a position group that needed a makeover before the start of next season. I’m really looking forward to teaming up with Jason Garciaparra and focusing on what got me into this league in the first place–being strong as heck and terrorizing QBs.”
The portly gentlemen remained on his feet.
“Yes, but you’ve always played linebacker since setting numerous records at Dartmouth. Surely this is a slight against you that you’re not going to be able to continue playing at the position!” The man spoke in a tone that irritated Wasrabi.
“Look, I’m getting fat. Is that what you wanted to hear? That I can’t run like I used to? Take a look at my stats this season and you’ll see all the evidence you need. At the end of the day, there aren’t many of us S25 players left in the league, and just being able to make a difference to this team and play at a high level is reward enough. I’m not going to waste time and energy worrying about how this is going to affect my legacy.”
Seemingly content with this answer, the portly gentlemen sat back down. Wasrabi pointed to another reporter standing near the back. The person had to raise their voice to be heard over the chatter.
“Mr. Gleel, sir, what does this mean for your future in the league?” The young man sounded nervous. Gleel could guess this was probably his first presser. The next group of reporters ready to report on the next group of players. Time marches ever onwards.
“I’m not quite ready to comment on that. Obviously I’m not going to keep playing forever. I’ve always wanted to retire on my own terms, not because I’m such a bum I couldn’t land a job anywhere. Here in Chicago we have some up and coming linebackers, guys like Hall and Omni-man, that are young and hungry to prove themselves in this league. So speaking solely on the topic of my position switch, it feels like the era of Domine, Gleel, and Chainbreaker is coming to a bittersweet end, and I’m just blessed to be able to see the beginning of the next chapter. The sun must set on even the finest summer’s day, as they say.”
The mousy reporter lowered his voice recorder and took a step back.
Gleel pointed to someone in the second row.
“Wasrabi, as we head into the offseason, what goals do you have in mind for next season as a Defensive End, and how do you plan to reach them?” This was a fair question, and Gleel appreciated how she had managed to steer the conference back on topic.
“The way I see it, I have nothing but goals ahead. This is new ground for me. I would be extremely happy to post double digit sacks, or even get a defensive touchdown–I haven’t taken one to the house since my sophomore year in the ISFL. I need to cut down on the missed tackles, but I think playing less coverage is going to help with that. I’m going to work on getting my strength up. Focus on breaking through blocks. I’ve been a leader for a long time in the linebacker room, so I’m hoping to transition to being a leader on the D-Line. We need to start getting after the QB more and applying pressure. If we can do that, we’ll be asking less of our secondary and our defense as a whole should improve.”
The portly gentleman in the first row was raising his hand again. He was waving it trying to get Gleel’s attention. Just as Wasrabi was about to call on someone else, the gentleman stood up and interrupted.
“Excuse me, Wasrabi, but fans in Chicago have a right to know. IF this is going to be your final season, what will you do when you’re done with the league? Are you going to remain here in the windy city, or return back to Vermont?”
For just a moment Wasrabi’s stoic features broke into the briefest of grimaces before he went back to his placid poker face.
“Thank you all for coming. Happy holidays and we’ll see y’all in the spring for training camp.”
He spoke quietly as he leaned over the microphone before turning his back to the crowd of reporters. Questions hurled at his back did nothing to slow his long strides to the door leading to the Chicago locker room.