I'm not really sure what this is really supposed to be, or if it's going anywhere, but I had the idea, so I wrote it. I may develop it in the future. We'll see. I'm looking for feedback more on the writing style than the actual ideas, if I'm honest.
John McLeish clicked the door shut behind him, and leant back, letting out a long sigh. He ran his hand through his sandy blonde hair, and let his head slowly hit against the door. He hoped that the last thirty minutes wouldn't become a regular feature in his life. He took off his Starfleet Academy jacket, and placed it on a hook just inside the door. He took a deep breath and called out - "Shev, Jake? Are you in?" he asked, calling out to his two roommates.
His answer was swift, as a blue head suddenly came into vison. "Hey buddy!" called out Shev, his Andorian antennae wiggling about on top of his bald head. "How was practice?"
John sighed. "Practice was great...but", he started to tail off. Shev knew what the issue was.
"The press?"
"The press," echoed John. "The season's still three weeks away, why do we need to have press conferences after every practice? It's the same every day. Yes, I'm confident about the Academy's chances this year. Yes, I'm nervous about taking over, but I know that I have the skills to play the position on the big stage. I just want to get started, Shev."
Shev looked at John inquizitively for a couple of moments. "I don't know much about football, or any human sports at all," he said. John was hard-pushed to disagree with him, remembering the occasion in their freshman year, when their roommate Jacob had shown the two of them a holodeck recreation of Super Bowl 78. John could still remember the look of disappointment on Shev's face when he realised that the New York Giants were not eight feet tall, and that every member of the Jacksonville Jaguars was human.
Shev continued. "But I do know that there are millions of guys in the Federation who would love nothing more than to play quarterback for a Division I team. You've got that opportunity, you've worked hard for that opportunity, and now you're complaining about a bit of media work you need to do? You're the BM..." Shev looked up, as if he was trying to remember a fact he'd heard long ago. "The BMAV, at Starfle-"
John interjected. "The BMOC, Shev"
Shev continued as if the interruption had never happened. "The BMOC, at Starfleet Academy, you're going to have hundreds of thousands of people watching you play the sport you love every week, a sport I am reliably informed you are very good at." John smiled. "Didn't Cidro tell you what it would be like?" Shev asked.
Cidro Bas was the senior quarterback who John had backed-up the previous year for the Academy, and had led them to their first bowl game victory in three years. He was the latest of the Starfleet Academy atheltic stars who, unlike many of the talented students he had played against on a weekly basis, wouldn't be heading into professional sports upon graduation, as he was graduating to be an officer. John's mind went back to the last game of the previous season, and seeing all the seniors who knew that they were heading into what would likely be their last ever competitive football game. In less than two years, John knew that he too would be in that situation.
John looked back at Shev. "Cidro's a different guy to me. He was as much of a showman off the field as he was on it. He had fun with the media, he enjoyed it. I can't do that - I love playing football, I love passing the ball, and I love leading an offence down the field. I don't love talking to journalists about doing it," John looked up out of the window. "I love piloting shuttles. No-one asks me about that," he added, laughing as he did so. He headed towards his room. "Replicate me a sandwich!" he called back to Shev.
John opened the door to his room, and threw his kitbag into the corner, on top of a impulse engine repair textbook. He walked over to his wardrobe, and opened it, and saw something wonderful, and beautiful inside.
He held his hand out to the sweat-absorbing, light fabric. He touched the red material, and took in the sight of the words and number imprinted on the back.
McLEISH
8
CADETS
The jersey of the starting quarterback of the Starfleet Academy cadets.
John knew that Shev was right. He had the opportunity to show the world, hell, to show the whole Federation what he could do. He'd been waiting for this opportunity through his freshman and sophomore years - even through High School, as he'd lead his team to a State Championship, and passed up the chance to play for more famous footballing programmes, because he wanted to join Starfleet. John McLeish finally had his chance. And he wasn't ready to let anyone get in his way.
John McLeish clicked the door shut behind him, and leant back, letting out a long sigh. He ran his hand through his sandy blonde hair, and let his head slowly hit against the door. He hoped that the last thirty minutes wouldn't become a regular feature in his life. He took off his Starfleet Academy jacket, and placed it on a hook just inside the door. He took a deep breath and called out - "Shev, Jake? Are you in?" he asked, calling out to his two roommates.
His answer was swift, as a blue head suddenly came into vison. "Hey buddy!" called out Shev, his Andorian antennae wiggling about on top of his bald head. "How was practice?"
John sighed. "Practice was great...but", he started to tail off. Shev knew what the issue was.
"The press?"
"The press," echoed John. "The season's still three weeks away, why do we need to have press conferences after every practice? It's the same every day. Yes, I'm confident about the Academy's chances this year. Yes, I'm nervous about taking over, but I know that I have the skills to play the position on the big stage. I just want to get started, Shev."
Shev looked at John inquizitively for a couple of moments. "I don't know much about football, or any human sports at all," he said. John was hard-pushed to disagree with him, remembering the occasion in their freshman year, when their roommate Jacob had shown the two of them a holodeck recreation of Super Bowl 78. John could still remember the look of disappointment on Shev's face when he realised that the New York Giants were not eight feet tall, and that every member of the Jacksonville Jaguars was human.
Shev continued. "But I do know that there are millions of guys in the Federation who would love nothing more than to play quarterback for a Division I team. You've got that opportunity, you've worked hard for that opportunity, and now you're complaining about a bit of media work you need to do? You're the BM..." Shev looked up, as if he was trying to remember a fact he'd heard long ago. "The BMAV, at Starfle-"
John interjected. "The BMOC, Shev"
Shev continued as if the interruption had never happened. "The BMOC, at Starfleet Academy, you're going to have hundreds of thousands of people watching you play the sport you love every week, a sport I am reliably informed you are very good at." John smiled. "Didn't Cidro tell you what it would be like?" Shev asked.
Cidro Bas was the senior quarterback who John had backed-up the previous year for the Academy, and had led them to their first bowl game victory in three years. He was the latest of the Starfleet Academy atheltic stars who, unlike many of the talented students he had played against on a weekly basis, wouldn't be heading into professional sports upon graduation, as he was graduating to be an officer. John's mind went back to the last game of the previous season, and seeing all the seniors who knew that they were heading into what would likely be their last ever competitive football game. In less than two years, John knew that he too would be in that situation.
John looked back at Shev. "Cidro's a different guy to me. He was as much of a showman off the field as he was on it. He had fun with the media, he enjoyed it. I can't do that - I love playing football, I love passing the ball, and I love leading an offence down the field. I don't love talking to journalists about doing it," John looked up out of the window. "I love piloting shuttles. No-one asks me about that," he added, laughing as he did so. He headed towards his room. "Replicate me a sandwich!" he called back to Shev.
John opened the door to his room, and threw his kitbag into the corner, on top of a impulse engine repair textbook. He walked over to his wardrobe, and opened it, and saw something wonderful, and beautiful inside.
He held his hand out to the sweat-absorbing, light fabric. He touched the red material, and took in the sight of the words and number imprinted on the back.
McLEISH
8
CADETS
The jersey of the starting quarterback of the Starfleet Academy cadets.
John knew that Shev was right. He had the opportunity to show the world, hell, to show the whole Federation what he could do. He'd been waiting for this opportunity through his freshman and sophomore years - even through High School, as he'd lead his team to a State Championship, and passed up the chance to play for more famous footballing programmes, because he wanted to join Starfleet. John McLeish finally had his chance. And he wasn't ready to let anyone get in his way.
