DSFL Draft Open Enrollment Event
“College?” the woman at the desk asked.
“None.” the man said.
She glanced up. She’d seen him when he came to her desk but now she really into the face of a bald bearded man that was easily ten years older than everyone else. He half smiled at her sudden attention.She glanced down at her papers again to make sure and sure enough, he was 38.
“Umm. None?” she asked, to be sure.
“No.” he answered. “I moved to California and sold guns to postal workers instead. It was….a different time.”
“Okay.” she said, in a tone that said it clearly wasn’t. “So umm….relevant experience I guess? Any previous football?”
“Nope.” he said nonchalantly. “But I was in the NSHL for two years. Uhh...hockey. Go Eagles!”
She looked up at him and wondered if this was a prank.
“So no collegiate experience.” she said slowly. “No professional experience.”
“That is correct.” he answered. “And yes I know I’m in the right place. I know it’s a bit unusual.”
“Okay.” she said, sounding even less so. “Position?”
“Wide Receiver.” he answered.
She glanced at his papers. A 5’8 38 year old Wide Reciever with zero experience. That said, he had the necessary papers, fees, and an actual invitation, though from where she couldn’t tell. The sources were anonymous for a reason and he’d been in her system when she searched for him so whoever it was had taken all the proper measures. She pulled a new sheet and poised her pen.
“You understand the medical risks?” she asked.
“Yep.” he answered.
“You attest that you’ve properly prepared for this?” he asked the next question.
“I worked out for three whole months.” he said earnestly.
A tiny voice in her brain screamed.
“You’re of sound mind and body?” she asked doubtfully.
“Please make sure you check yes on that one.” he said chuckling. “I get the feeling you may not believe it.”
She glanced up to find him grinning ear to ear.
“What’s really gonna blow your mind is when I go out and kick ass.” he said. “I didn’t do any prep before trying out for hockey. I was drunk actually. This I actually put effort into.”
“Are you drunk right now.” she asked, maybe a bit too judgingly.
He just laughed.
“No.” he said. “Maybe later though. Tell ya what. I’ll buy YOU a beer when I get drafted into the ISFL.”
“Deal.” she said.
She hadn't expected to agree to it before she said it but he just somehow made her believe that he really believed the crazy things he was saying, He stuck out his hand for a shake.
“Adam Spencer.’ he said. “Future ISFL Hall of Famer.”
She accepted the handshake.
“Rosa.” she answered. “Looking forward to that beer. Good luck on the field.”
He smiled and she stamped his paperwork before signing the last sheet. She passed it to him to sign as well and then he was through.
DSFL Draft Workout
Adam Spencer stood among a line of other potential WRs wearing matching sleeveless shirts (though with differing numbers). He looked down the line and figured that several had already quit or been removed. The highest number he saw was #26 for this event but he counted a few less than twenty. They’d only done three drills so that seemed like a lot but he wasn’t going to argue if some of his competition was already out of the running.
“Guess not everyone...CAUGHT on.” he said conspiratorial to #22 next to him. The tall, athletic human specimen just stared at him like he had two heads.
“Ahh c’mon, lighten up.” Spencer added. “How many of the coaches do you think are high right now?”
The guy ignored him. On the other side though, #20 piped up.
“I definitely smelled something on the kicking coach.” he said.
Spencer whipped his head around to stare up at the largest human being he’d ever stood next to.
“”I was gonna say that’s what’s up.” Spencer said. “Good thing I turned around. I’m pretty sure you’re tired of hearing that shit.”
#20 chuckled.
“Good call.” he answered. “I don’t want to have to eat anyone today.”
Spencer turned back to #22.
“See man this is how you make new friends. Relax.” he said.
He turned back to #20.
“What’s your 40?” he asked.
“Pretty much irrelevant.” #20 responded. “What’s your bench?”
Spencer laughed.
“17.” he said. “I assume that they just politely asked you to stop after a while.”
“More or less.” his new companion answered.
A shrill whistle blew and a short paunchy balding middle aged man walked in front of the line of prospects.
“ALL RIGHT IT’S TIME FOR CATCHING DRILLS!” he bellowed in a surprisingly deep voice. “LINE UP ON THE WHITE LINE. RUN TO THE BIG CONE MARKED 1. CATCH. RUN TO 2. CATCH. I THINK YOU CAN FIGURE IT OUT FROM THERE!”
Spencer gazed at the course which saw five different cones and looked like about ten yards in between each in a semicircle pattern. The whistle blew again and the line started with #1. He watched each prospect try their hand and to his surprise, the majority missed at least one. He himself stood on deck and ready to go as his new budd #20 caught his ball at the 4th cone. The guy wasn’t fast but he moved really well and as the last ball held fast in his gigantic hands, he hauled in his 4th of five passes. Adam took off sprinting for the first cone, angling his body in the last few steps so that he’d have little to no slow down between catching the ball and moving to the next cone. Surprisingly not many had done that.
The first pass came in cleanly and he snatched it out of the air before taking a few steps toward his next target and dropping the ball as others had also done. Like his short lived hockey career he took advantage of the relatively simple fundamentals here. Control your body and focus on the task at hand. His mindset saw Spencer move cleanly through the first four cones with no problems. As he turned for the last cone though, his shoe caught on dirt for jt enough to throw off his rhythm. He almost stumbled but kept his balance and got back in stride with minimal time lost. Just enough time that he was behind where the ball was coming, though. He knew he wasn’t going to have enough time and did the only thing that seemed right. He launched forward off one foot and flattened out, grabbing the ball out of the air and securing it to his chest before hitting the ground in a roll. He popped back to his feet fairly smoothly and ran out the end of the drill as the next person in line started their own run.
He sat drinking some water when a new presence appeared beside him.
“Good recovery.” said a quiet little man with tiny glasses and adorable old man hair. “Smooth run too. Keep it up.”
Spencer said nothing as he was gulping down water but he did nod at the little man who walked away. In his place the gigantic form of #20 appeared.
“You impressed that guy.” he said. “I keep seeing coaches defer to him.”
“Dammit.” Spencer said. “If I’d known that I might’ve tried to say something.”
“You could dive for him.” his new friend suggested dryly. “You seem to have that skill down.”
“You’re real mouthy for a guy I’m gonna ride into battle.” Adam responded.
The guy chuckled.
“Deandre.” he announced.
“Adam.” Adam answered.
“So what was it like watching the moon landing?” Deandre asked.
“You keep that up and Imma ask my wife for permission to fuck your grandmas.” Adam said.
“They could use the exercise.” Deandre deadpanned.
The whistle blew.
“TAKE 5!” yelled the bellowing coach.
Adma and Deandre saluted with their bottles of water and waited for the next drill.
“College?” the woman at the desk asked.
“None.” the man said.
She glanced up. She’d seen him when he came to her desk but now she really into the face of a bald bearded man that was easily ten years older than everyone else. He half smiled at her sudden attention.She glanced down at her papers again to make sure and sure enough, he was 38.
“Umm. None?” she asked, to be sure.
“No.” he answered. “I moved to California and sold guns to postal workers instead. It was….a different time.”
“Okay.” she said, in a tone that said it clearly wasn’t. “So umm….relevant experience I guess? Any previous football?”
“Nope.” he said nonchalantly. “But I was in the NSHL for two years. Uhh...hockey. Go Eagles!”
She looked up at him and wondered if this was a prank.
“So no collegiate experience.” she said slowly. “No professional experience.”
“That is correct.” he answered. “And yes I know I’m in the right place. I know it’s a bit unusual.”
“Okay.” she said, sounding even less so. “Position?”
“Wide Receiver.” he answered.
She glanced at his papers. A 5’8 38 year old Wide Reciever with zero experience. That said, he had the necessary papers, fees, and an actual invitation, though from where she couldn’t tell. The sources were anonymous for a reason and he’d been in her system when she searched for him so whoever it was had taken all the proper measures. She pulled a new sheet and poised her pen.
“You understand the medical risks?” she asked.
“Yep.” he answered.
“You attest that you’ve properly prepared for this?” he asked the next question.
“I worked out for three whole months.” he said earnestly.
A tiny voice in her brain screamed.
“You’re of sound mind and body?” she asked doubtfully.
“Please make sure you check yes on that one.” he said chuckling. “I get the feeling you may not believe it.”
She glanced up to find him grinning ear to ear.
“What’s really gonna blow your mind is when I go out and kick ass.” he said. “I didn’t do any prep before trying out for hockey. I was drunk actually. This I actually put effort into.”
“Are you drunk right now.” she asked, maybe a bit too judgingly.
He just laughed.
“No.” he said. “Maybe later though. Tell ya what. I’ll buy YOU a beer when I get drafted into the ISFL.”
“Deal.” she said.
She hadn't expected to agree to it before she said it but he just somehow made her believe that he really believed the crazy things he was saying, He stuck out his hand for a shake.
“Adam Spencer.’ he said. “Future ISFL Hall of Famer.”
She accepted the handshake.
“Rosa.” she answered. “Looking forward to that beer. Good luck on the field.”
He smiled and she stamped his paperwork before signing the last sheet. She passed it to him to sign as well and then he was through.
DSFL Draft Workout
Adam Spencer stood among a line of other potential WRs wearing matching sleeveless shirts (though with differing numbers). He looked down the line and figured that several had already quit or been removed. The highest number he saw was #26 for this event but he counted a few less than twenty. They’d only done three drills so that seemed like a lot but he wasn’t going to argue if some of his competition was already out of the running.
“Guess not everyone...CAUGHT on.” he said conspiratorial to #22 next to him. The tall, athletic human specimen just stared at him like he had two heads.
“Ahh c’mon, lighten up.” Spencer added. “How many of the coaches do you think are high right now?”
The guy ignored him. On the other side though, #20 piped up.
“I definitely smelled something on the kicking coach.” he said.
Spencer whipped his head around to stare up at the largest human being he’d ever stood next to.
“”I was gonna say that’s what’s up.” Spencer said. “Good thing I turned around. I’m pretty sure you’re tired of hearing that shit.”
#20 chuckled.
“Good call.” he answered. “I don’t want to have to eat anyone today.”
Spencer turned back to #22.
“See man this is how you make new friends. Relax.” he said.
He turned back to #20.
“What’s your 40?” he asked.
“Pretty much irrelevant.” #20 responded. “What’s your bench?”
Spencer laughed.
“17.” he said. “I assume that they just politely asked you to stop after a while.”
“More or less.” his new companion answered.
A shrill whistle blew and a short paunchy balding middle aged man walked in front of the line of prospects.
“ALL RIGHT IT’S TIME FOR CATCHING DRILLS!” he bellowed in a surprisingly deep voice. “LINE UP ON THE WHITE LINE. RUN TO THE BIG CONE MARKED 1. CATCH. RUN TO 2. CATCH. I THINK YOU CAN FIGURE IT OUT FROM THERE!”
Spencer gazed at the course which saw five different cones and looked like about ten yards in between each in a semicircle pattern. The whistle blew again and the line started with #1. He watched each prospect try their hand and to his surprise, the majority missed at least one. He himself stood on deck and ready to go as his new budd #20 caught his ball at the 4th cone. The guy wasn’t fast but he moved really well and as the last ball held fast in his gigantic hands, he hauled in his 4th of five passes. Adam took off sprinting for the first cone, angling his body in the last few steps so that he’d have little to no slow down between catching the ball and moving to the next cone. Surprisingly not many had done that.
The first pass came in cleanly and he snatched it out of the air before taking a few steps toward his next target and dropping the ball as others had also done. Like his short lived hockey career he took advantage of the relatively simple fundamentals here. Control your body and focus on the task at hand. His mindset saw Spencer move cleanly through the first four cones with no problems. As he turned for the last cone though, his shoe caught on dirt for jt enough to throw off his rhythm. He almost stumbled but kept his balance and got back in stride with minimal time lost. Just enough time that he was behind where the ball was coming, though. He knew he wasn’t going to have enough time and did the only thing that seemed right. He launched forward off one foot and flattened out, grabbing the ball out of the air and securing it to his chest before hitting the ground in a roll. He popped back to his feet fairly smoothly and ran out the end of the drill as the next person in line started their own run.
He sat drinking some water when a new presence appeared beside him.
“Good recovery.” said a quiet little man with tiny glasses and adorable old man hair. “Smooth run too. Keep it up.”
Spencer said nothing as he was gulping down water but he did nod at the little man who walked away. In his place the gigantic form of #20 appeared.
“You impressed that guy.” he said. “I keep seeing coaches defer to him.”
“Dammit.” Spencer said. “If I’d known that I might’ve tried to say something.”
“You could dive for him.” his new friend suggested dryly. “You seem to have that skill down.”
“You’re real mouthy for a guy I’m gonna ride into battle.” Adam responded.
The guy chuckled.
“Deandre.” he announced.
“Adam.” Adam answered.
“So what was it like watching the moon landing?” Deandre asked.
“You keep that up and Imma ask my wife for permission to fuck your grandmas.” Adam said.
“They could use the exercise.” Deandre deadpanned.
The whistle blew.
“TAKE 5!” yelled the bellowing coach.
Adma and Deandre saluted with their bottles of water and waited for the next drill.