Chapter 1

Thursday, April 25, 2013 – Martin residence in Paradise, Pa.

The TV set at my house was set to the opening of the first round of the NFL Draft. I'm Kyle Martin, a college football standout wide receiver at Penn State and winner of the 2012 Campbell Scholar/Athlete, Biletnikoff and Maxwell Awards. Forty or fifty friends and family had gathered to watch my prospects. Three and a half months of preparation culminated this night. Which team would choose me?

Eight o'clock finally came and things got started. The NFL wasted too much time with introductions to the first round of the draft. I wanted to shout, 'Just put the Redskins on the clock already. Let's get going!'

About 8:15 Commissioner Goodell announced, "The Redskins are on the clock." Less than sixty seconds later he stepped up to the podium again and announced, "The Washington Redskins, with the first pick in the 2013 NFL draft, chose University of Michigan defensive tackle, William Johnson."

I cheered as my friend Big William became a very rich man. Nobody deserved the first pick more than him. The crawler at the bottom of the screen showed the time remaining for the Detroit Lions to make their choice as the anchors praised William and talked about the many awards he had won.

Most of the Lions' fifteen minutes were gone when Commissioner Goodell came out to announce, "With the second pick of the draft, the Detroit Lions chose the University of Southern California's offensive tackle, K. J. Kirkpatrick." That was an excellent pick. The Lions need protection for Matthew Stafford and K. J. is excellent at pass blocking.

The Kansas City Chiefs didn't use all their time. They chose Owen Wright, the big offensive tackle from Wisconsin. The anchors speculated that the Chiefs would probably use him at guard instead.

My nephews, Noah and Connor, and my three-year-old brother, Hunter, were still up, even though it was past their bed time. Noah and Connor were juiced from all the people. Hunter was fading.

"I'm tired, Kyle," my little brother said. "Can you hold me?"

"Sure, big guy," I agreed. I helped him onto my lap. Hunter leaned back against my body and was asleep in seconds.

The Seahawks wasted no time choosing. Roger Goodell came to the podium with ten minutes left on the clock for the Seahawks. "With the fourth pick of the 2013 draft, the Seattle Seahawks choose University of Texas quarterback, Todd Landry." Everyone in the world expected that pick.

The ticker at the bottom of the TV showed the Raiders on the clock. My fiancée, Penny Edwards, slid in close to me and held my hand. Would Al Davis pull a bone-headed stunt and draft me? The anchors filled the time with speculations about who the Raiders would draft. Mike Mayock categorically stated that they would draft me. He reminded all the viewers how much Al Davis loves fast wide receivers before reminding everyone that I posted the best time in a decade at the Combine.

I wanted to scream, 'Don't give Davis any ideas, damn it!' I tensed and waited to see if all my warnings to their team would be heeded. Roger Goodell came to the podium when less than thirty seconds remained.

"With the fifth pick of the 2013 draft, the Oakland Raiders choose..." Penny tightened her grip on my hand. I tensed. " ... Pennsylvania State University's wide receiver, Kyle D. Martin."

"NOOOO!" I screamed. Everyone stared at me. "YOU IDIOT! I'LL NEVER..." My phone rang mid-rant. I pulled my phone out and stared at the area code. It was a 510 area code, the same one I used when I called Aaron Morano in San Francisco. I punched the button and growled, "Hello?"

"Welcome to the Raiders, Kyle," Al Davis said pleasantly. I recognized his voice immediately. "I know you had certain misgivings, but when you give us a look..."

"MISGIVINGS?" I shouted into the phone. "I told you and your coaches explicitly NOT to draft me. I will never, EVER play for your joke of a team. Not in a million years for all the money in the world. NEVER!"

"JOKE? Joke of a team..." Al sputtered. "How dare you ... you ... God damned..." I punched the button on my phone to end the call. My phone rang again almost immediately. It was the same 510 area code and number. I ignored the call.

"What now?" Dad asked. "You need to calm down and think things through logically." I took a deep breath.

"You're right, Dad," I agreed. "I guess I need to face the press."

"Take a couple of minutes and get yourself centered," Dad suggested. "I'll go outside and tell them you will be out shortly."

"Thanks, Dad," I replied. My phone rang again. I looked at the same damned 510 number. The Raiders' obstinacy wasn't helping me calm down. Penny came over and gave me a hug. We clung together. I drew strength from my honey. My phone rang again about a minute later.

"God damn it!" I growled. "I wish they would leave me the hell alone!" I managed to spot the name on my phone before I hit the "Ignore" button. "Max, what's up?"

"Are you fully prepared to follow Plan B?"

"I'm sure as hell not playing for that idiot, Davis," I responded.

"Take a deep breath, Kyle," Max commanded. I did. "It is not as grim as it looks right now. I fielded half a dozen calls from teams that are interested in trading the Raiders for your services. They want to confirm if you are willing to play football for them."

"Oh? Who?"

"The Broncos, the Ravens, the Rams, the Cardinals, the Vikings and the Jets all have indicated an interest in your services," Max replied. "They are seeking assurances that you would be willing to play for them if they are able to trade with the Raiders for your services."

"Any of those teams are fine, Max," I answered. "I'd love it for someone ... anyone to get me away from Al Davis."

"I will pass the word on to the other teams," Max said. "Be prepared for your real Plan B."

"Teaching high school?" I answered. "I have two more days of student teaching then I get my degree and teaching certificate. I'm as prepared as any new graduate can be." I chuckled. "You know I'll be staying in the Philly area now so I can be close to my sweetie." Penny gave me a kiss on the cheek.

"Give Penny my best," Max said.

"Bye, Max," I said. Penny echoed my good-bye.

"I guess it's time for me to face the press," I announced.

"Are you calm?" Penny asked.

"I can do this," I responded. I saw Andy standing nearby holding a box of NFL team hats. A Raiders hat was on top of the pile. He shrugged his shoulders to me.

"Dad wanted me to make sure you had a team hat for the team that drafted you," Andy explained. "Do you want this one?" He offered me the Raiders hat.

"Burn the damned thing," I said. "Give me the Eagles one." I got funny looks from most of the people in the room. "It's OK. I know what I'm doing." I pasted a smile on my face and headed for the press on the front porch. I stepped out into the blinding lights to face the cameras. I managed not to laugh as virtually everyone did a double-take at my Eagles hat.

"Kyle, what is your reaction to the Raiders drafting you?" one reporter asked. "Why the Eagles hat?" another added.

"Shock. Dismay," I replied to the first question. "I am disappointed that the Raiders chose to ignore what my agent and I told them a couple months ago – that I would not be willing to play for the Raiders. I am wearing an Eagles cap tonight because it looks like I will be teaching history at some high school around the Philadelphia area next fall. I can continue to cheer for my favorite team from boyhood for another 364 days."

"Why Philadelphia and why teaching?" one of reporters shouted over half a dozen other questions.

"My fiancée and soon-to-be wife is studying to be a veterinarian at the University of Pennsylvania," I explained. "I want to stay in this area so we can begin our lives together. As for teaching ... well that is what my college degree is in."

"Any circumstances that you would play for the Raiders?"

"None," I stated firmly.

"What are your specific objections to playing for Al Davis?"

"Their quarterback situation is unsettled," I began. "I fully respect Elijah Carter but I doubt he will be 100% ready to play next September. They desperately need help on the offensive line, which is why Elijah got hurt in the first place. They picked up Pete Cochran to fill in until Elijah is back, but Pete's going to face protection problems too. My skills won't help turn the Raiders into a winner. I don't want to be separated from my wife and subject my body to the pounding of a football season if I can't help the team win. It's that simple."

"You and your agent denied that you had a list of teams that you wouldn't play for. Now you tell us that wasn't true. You refuse to play for the Raiders. Who else is on your list?"

"My agent and I chose to keep the fact that I would not play for the Raiders confidential between me and them," I explained. "We didn't want to single them out and embarrass them. They chose to ignore our request and draft me anyway. Any embarrassment they feel for wasting a draft pick on me is theirs and theirs alone. I have no list of teams I won't play for. As a matter of fact, my agent has already fielded half a dozen calls from teams that would like to trade with the Raiders to obtain my rights. They want to know if I will play for them. I told my agent yes to EVERY team on that list." My phone had been vibrating throughout my press conference but I had been ignoring it.

"Kyle, you need to take a call right now," Dad said as he stuck his head out the front door. "They have six more minutes to do a deal."

"It's the Rams," half a dozen different reporters gasped simultaneously.

"Excuse me," I announced. "I'll be back in a few minutes." I stepped back into the house and pulled my phone out. The current call from was area code 410 – the Ravens. "Hello, Kyle Martin."

"Thank God, I got you," the man stated. "This is Ozzie Newsome. I want to hear it from your own mouth. If I manage to swing a trade with the Raiders will you come play for my team?"

"Absolutely, Mr. Newsome," I agreed quickly. "You're close to Philly and my fiancée. I would LOVE to come play for your team."

"Stand by, Kyle," Ozzie said. "I am going to try to make a blockbuster trade to get you."

"I'll do that," I agreed. I clicked "End" to finish the call, turned to the living room full of people and announced, "The Ravens are trying to trade for me." Everyone in the room let out a cheer. Andy handed me a purple Ravens cap. "Not yet, let's let Ozzie Newsome finish the trade first."

I poked my head outside momentarily. "Can you guys stand by for a bit? Things are happening right now that you probably will want to wait for." Half a dozen reporters shouted out questions as I pulled my head inside again and shut the front door.

"What did I miss in the draft?" I asked.

"The Titans took Danny Clay with the sixth pick," Andy replied. "The Rams have another minute on the clock."

Penny slipped in beside me again and put her arm around my waist. I slipped mine around hers. Everyone stared at the TV as the seconds wound down on the Rams. Commissioner Goodell stepped to the podium and announced, "The St. Louis Rams, with the seventh pick of the 2013 draft, select the University of Pittsburgh's offensive tackle, Courtney Devine."

My phone was strangely quiet as my family, friends and fiancée sat and watched the draft, hoping someone could offer enough to free me from the Raider's grasp. The Browns took Eldon Burkholder. The Jaguars took DeMarcus Van Dyke. Green Bay swapped their first pick for Buffalo's 1st and 3rd. Buffalo chose Dylan Harris to be their next QB.

A crawler appeared at the bottom of the screen the same time the Bengals picked Marshon Wilkins with the 11th pick of the draft. The crawler announced, "Al Davis has been rushed to a hospital in Oakland. He is reported to have suffered a heart attack."

"I hope nobody blames you for causing his heart attack," Andy commented.

"Andrew, that's a terrible thing to say," Mom insisted. Andy apologized immediately. It didn't help my frame of mind. Had I indirectly caused it? Was there any way for me to know?

Mike Mayock announced that the Denver Broncos traded their first round pick to Baltimore for Baltimore's 1st and 2nd picks. Everyone perked up and watched the TV while we waited to hear if Ozzie Newsome could arrange the trade he had hinted at. Baltimore took nearly the entire fifteen minutes to make their pick. The clock was down to 20 seconds when Commissioner Goodell walked up to the podium on stage.

"The Baltimore Ravens, with the twelfth pick of the 2013 draft, select University of Florida wide receiver, Eric Peters."

"Anybody know of any high school history teacher job openings around Philly?" I called out. That drew polite laughs from my crowd of friends and family. Andy and Mom took Hunter, Noah and Connor upstairs to bed. Hunter was dead to the world. The twins were fading fast. The rest of us watched as the draft proceeded.

13. Dallas Cowboys picked Da'Rel Etherridge, OT

14. Miami – Bradford Garrett, TE

15. Green Bay Packers - Ross McCarthy, OL with the pick they swapped with Buffalo

16. Tampa Bay Buccaneers - Tre Benjamin, RB

17. Carolina Panthers - DeMarcus Hankerson, OL

18. Houston Texans - Eric Young, CB

19. New York Giants - Malo Kaapana, RB

I realized by then it was way past time to finish talking with the press. I put the Eagles hat on again and stepped outside. The cameramen clicked the TV lights on. I did my best to answer all their questions patiently. I reiterated my position that I would not play for the Raiders under any circumstances.

"Kyle, are you certain you will give up $22 million dollars over four years to teach a bunch of high school kids?" the Fox Sports reporter asked.

"I have three goals in my life," I explained. "Family is first. I want to teach youth, because I think I am good at it and I want to coach football. Do you see striking it rich on my list?"

"No," the reporter conceded.

"Kyle ... could you hold on a second?" the ESPN reporter asked. He took a small sheet of paper and read it quickly. "Can I get your reaction to this breaking news?"

"What is it?"

"My producer just received word from the network that Al Davis passed away half an hour ago," the reporter announced. "Does this change your intentions regarding the Raiders?"

"Al Davis is dead," I repeated as I bowed my head. I looked up again after about twenty seconds of silence. "This is a sad day for the Raiders and for the NFL. Mr. Davis and I may have disagreed on my utility to his team when we talked earlier tonight but I respected the man and everything he has done for football. My high school and college coaches' philosophies ... even my own football philosophy are founded on the principles of Al Davis' vertical passing game. My interview with Mr. Davis before the Senior Bowl was probably one of the most interesting I have had in the past few months. Talking X's and O's with Mr. Davis was fascinating."

"Will this change your decision about playing for the Raiders?" half a dozen reporters shouted at the same time.

"Neither Mr. Davis nor I can block an onrushing defensive lineman," I replied. "I can't quarterback for the Raiders. My skill set and the Raiders' player needs have not changed with Mr. Davis' death. I wish the Raiders the best but I will not play for them ... this season or in the future."

"Doesn't your decision to spurn the Raiders simply confirm earlier reports you're difficult to deal with?" Andrew Morgan from ESPN asked. "Some have called you a prima donna." Andrew had always been decent to me during other interviews. Why the hell was he spouting Brown's nonsense?

"Speak with my teammates and coaches," I countered. "I know every one of them will say the same thing. My focus on a team is making the team ... THE WHOLE TEAM successful. My speed and pass-catching ability aren't going to help the Raiders become a winning team. The $20 or $25 million they would need to pay me as a first-round number five pick would be wasted. If I were a prima donna interested only in myself, I would grab that money instantly. I could manage to go through the motions for two or three years while that pile of money grows. They'll eventually get tired of me not producing and cut me. I would be a rich man and free of the Raiders too, but that's not who I am. I want to make whichever team I am on better and help turn them into a winner."

"Sounds like a story the Raiders have heard before," one of the reporters remarked.

"Coach, what message would you like to pass on to the Raiders organization, if any?" Jeff Morgan from the Philadelphia Inquirer asked. I'd known Jeff for almost four years. We had been on a first name (or nickname) basis for the past year.

"Trade me," I answered. "Please, trade me. Get something of value for the first-round pick you have wasted. See if you can get a good offensive lineman. Elijah and Pete will thank you for that." I looked over the crowd of reporters. A dozen had their hands up for more questions. I was exhausted and burnt out from dealing with all of this. "Let's take a minute to say a prayer for Al Davis' family in this, their time of trouble." I bowed my head while the reporters, cameramen and crews stood nervously. "Thank you, that is all I have for you tonight."

I turned and walked back into the house, ignoring the questions they shouted out to me. "Well, I'm glad that's done."

"Maybe they'll go away now so our guests can get out the door," Dad remarked.

"I want to thank everyone for coming tonight," I announced to the gathering in the living room. "I know this isn't what you anticipated when you came tonight but I do appreciate your support."

Penny and I individually spoke with and thanked the guests as they departed. John Waters, my mentor teacher, and his wife Emily were one of the last couples to leave.

"Thanks for inviting us, Kyle," John said. "It certainly was interesting."

"I'm glad the two of you were able to come," I replied. "I'll see you in class tomorrow morning."

"Between you being drafted by the Raiders and then you refusing to play for them, it will be an interesting day, Kyle," John said. "Be prepared for chaos."

"It won't be that bad," I answered. "Our kids are well behaved."

"This is the biggest thing to happen to someone at our school in decades," John answered. "Be prepared."

"It will be fine, John," I insisted. "I'll see you in the morning."

The last of the guests were clearing out when the next draftee of significance to me was announced. The New York Jets took Trevor Conwell. I knew my buddy was delighted. He loved the creative ways Rex Ryan had for applying pressure to quarterbacks. He was going to be in heaven playing for the Jets. I called him before Penny and I went downstairs to bed.

We were getting ready for bed when my cell phone rang. It was that 410 area code again.

"Hello, Kyle Martin," I announced when I accepted the call.

"Kyle, this is Ozzie Newsome." My heart leapt with hope.

"Yes, Mr. Newsome," I replied.

"We tried our damnedest to pry you from the Raiders," Ozzie said. "All of this was before Al's heart attack. He wouldn't budge. No one else is ready to do anything now that Al is gone."

"I figured that when you engineered the trade with the Broncos," I replied. "You have an excellent receiver with Eric Peters. Eric is a friend of mine. He will do well for your team."

"We think so too," Ozzie said. "I'm sorry we couldn't get you in our organization. I know it would have been a long and mutually profitable relationship. Good luck wherever you end up. Maybe we can pick you up a year from now, if you make yourself available in the 2014 draft."

"I hope it happens," I answered. I snapped the phone off and set it on the dresser. It rang before I got a foot away. I checked the phone. It was a call from the 510 area code. I hit the Ignore button. Five seconds later it rang again. It was the same damned 510 phone number. I hit Ignore and climbed in bed. The phone rang again.

"I'm turning the God damned thing off!" I growled as I climbed out of bed. Fortunately, I looked at the phone before shutting it down. It was Ed Fritz.

"What's up, Ed?" I snapped. I took a deep breath. My bad night wasn't Ed's fault.

"Sorry about how your night went," Ed responded. "Who would have thought Al Davis was idiot enough to take you in the draft."

"I know," I agreed. "Look at the good side. We'll be entering the draft together, just like we did when we started college."

"Could be," Ed said. "Can I put you on speaker? I have a friend who wants to talk with you."

"Is it Eric?" I asked. "Sure, put him on. He's going to love working with the Ravens."

"I'll pass that on to Eric," Ed said. "It isn't Eric. He's at his parents' place tonight. Listen to what Elijah has to say. Do it for your best friend."

"Elijah?" I responded. "You're asking a lot."

"Listening can't hurt you," Ed said. "Let me put Elijah on."

"Hello, Kyle?" Elijah said.

"Hi, Elijah," I responded.

"Ed's told me so many good things about you," Elijah said. "It almost feels like I know you already." I chuckled.

"I know that feeling," I agreed. "Ed has a lot of good things to say about you, too. How is your knee doing?"

"I'm working through it," Elijah allowed. "I'm up to 75 degrees on range of motion."

"That's progress," I replied. "Keep working at it. You'll get there in time."

"I was really excited when the team drafted you tonight," Elijah said. "Ed has told me so many good things about working with you. I think you and I could do some amazing things together on a football field. You really should come out here to Oakland and see things. The Raiders aren't nearly as bad as you might think."

"Not a ringing endorsement of your team," I countered. "Not as bad as you think. How's your new best friend Pete [Cochran] working out?"

"Pete?" Elijah allowed. He paused a few seconds. "He's got a strong arm. He's confident. He knows football."

"He's a dick," I added. "Anybody try to run him over in the parking lot?"

"No, they haven't," Elijah allowed. "At least, not yet."

"There's a reason Ed became a Gator and I became a Nittany Lion," I explained. "Michigan recruited both of us. The reason we rejected the school is named Cochran."