Typography Note: Sentences in [brackets] represent the narrator's unspoken thoughts.
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Coming of Age in Texas: Chapter 32: Contracts
By the time we got back home to Hilldale on Sunday, we were all exhausted. Still, I was actually looking forward to getting back to my chores on the farm. Weird, huh?
I was also glad to see my teammates at football camp again. Of course, the guys all wanted to know all about our adventures...and our conquests, which we made sound as thrilling as we could without giving away too much information.
The new kid that Johnny had told us about seemed nice, if a bit rough around the edges. Though he was inexperienced in football, he had run track back in Chicago and proved to be good at handling the ball, so Coach assigned him to back up Johnny as wide receiver.
Like Troy, Sam was a transplant from a big city, Philadelphia. Troy took to Sam in an instant and took him under his wing. Troy and I had agreed that we would have an open relationship, but I have to admit that I felt a slight tinge of jealousy.
That wasn't the only thing about Troy that seemed to have changed, though. He just didn't seem to have quite the passion for the game that he had had before. And I wasn't the only one who noticed. Coach had to ride him a little harder than before. We won our first few games, but they were squeakers.
Mike saw it too. Mike wasn't going to make it to Johnny's and my annual birthday bash because of his own game schedule, but the 49ers had no game the weekend before, so Johnny flew in for an early celebration, and he went to our game that night. Before the kickoff, the principal announced over the loud speaker that a distinguished alumnus was in the stadium and asked Mike to come to the press box and say a few words.
The principal asked Mike what he thought about his younger brother, and Mike answered that he was very proud, but then he also mentioned Johnny, Troy, and even Sam and talked about the importance of teamwork. "You don't win games with one or two good players," he said, "or even three or four. It takes the whole team working together."
The following week, we saw a noticeable improvement in Troy's performance. He had the passion again. I called Mike to thank him for what he had said since I thought that was what had lit the fuse under Troy.
"Well, maybe," said Mike, "but I suspect that most of the credit goes to Rob."
"Rob?" I asked, incredulously. "Why Rob?"
Mike explained that Rob had had a chat with Troy and reminded him of how supportive you and Johnny had been with regard to his music career. "Don't you think they deserve the same level of commitment from you when it comes to their football?" he asked Troy.
That weekend we had our joint birthday party at the Andersen's house again. It seemed like everybody in the state wanted to attend, but the Andersens drew the line. As I said, Mike couldn't be there, but Maria was there, and so was Rob, who had made so many trips to see Sarah Mazure that we teased him that he was going to have to get a Texas driver's license.
We got the usual birthday presents, and that year there were also birthday cards from Ciara, Victor, the Outlaws, Silvana, and even the chairmen of Fiat and Volkswagen.
When it seemed that we had opened all of the presents, Rob stood up and announced that Mike had asked him to deliver his presents for him, and with that, he plopped two very thick file folders on the table, one for Johnny and one for me.
"What's that?" we asked.
"Contracts," he said. "Modeling contracts."
Flipping through the folders, we found contracts to model for wines, perfumes, men's fashions, cars (Fiat for Johnny and Volkswagen for me), and more. I suspect that Ciara had something to with Johnny getting the Fiat contract, and I'm glad that I decided to go with Johnny and Rob to those VW meetings.
"Now, let me emphasize," said Rob. "These are modeling contracts, not endorsement contracts." Seeing the puzzled looks on all of our faces, Rob explained, "You will appear in a number of TV commercials and magazine ads as models, but you will not be pitching the products. The companies thought you would be fantastic models for their products, but your celebrity has been just a flash in the pan...so far. Once you graduate from high school and become college football standouts, it will be a different story. There was a lot of optimism that you would achieve that status, but you haven't yet. YET," he emphasized.
"Now," Rob continued, "the contracts are very similar, but the ones with Fiat (he looked at Johnny) and Volkswagen (he addressed me) have a clause that the others do not. It's an options clause."
"What does that mean?" asked Mrs. Andersen.
"Well, it means that they have the option to sign you up for endorsement contracts, which will be much more lucrative, if they wish to do so any time within the next four years. If another car company offers you a contract during that time, you are not prohibited from accepting it, but you have to give them first right of refusal. If they don't want you anymore, you're a free agent, so to speak. But if they do want you, they'll have to make it worth your while...and that's when the really big bucks kick in."
"Wait a minute," interjected Dad. "I seem to recall that Mike was not allowed to accept anything but his football scholarship when he was in college...no money...no gifts...it was an NCAA rule."
"That's right," Rob agreed, "but that's why it's important that these guys sign the contracts now...if they want to do this, of course...because that NCAA rule does not apply to prior employment. In other words, if they agree to these contracts now (or before they sign with a college), they're home free. You could think of it as an insurance policy. You might not make a ton of money now, but if they decide to make you a star in their advertising, you can make all the money you want even if you're on a football scholarship."
"Cool," I blurted out, picking up on the word that Johnny always used when we first met. Yet, I could see the wheels turning in Johnny's head.
"Does this mean that I won't get my Maserati?"
"Oh, Johnny," chided Mrs. Andersen as she slapped her son with a seat cushion.
"Actually," said Rob. "You can. You have to be the luckiest guys in the world. I don't know how he does it, but your brother is the most amazing negotiator I have ever seen. He told those companies that you would only agree to the contracts if they included the loan of a new car each year."
"So, Rick gets a VW, and I get a Fiat?" Johnny pouted.
"You're not listening to me," said Rob. "Rick can have his choice of any car from the VW line except a Lamborghini or Bugatti, which sells for over a million dollars. In other words, he can have any Volkswagen, Audi, Bentley, or Porsche. And you, my man, can choose any Fiat, Alfa Romeo, Chrysler, Dodge, Jeep, or Ram truck. Oh," he added, almost as an afterthought, "you can't have a Ferrari, but you can have...(pausing again for dramatic effect)...a Maserati."
At that news, Johnny flew out of his seat and mimicked a pro football player dancing in the end zone after scoring the winning touchdown at the Super Bowl.
All this time, Troy had sat quietly, though not impatiently, to hear what might be in store for him.
"Troy," Rob said with a deep breath, "your situation is different, and I'm going to let Maria tell you about that, because she had as much to do with negotiating for you as Mike did, and Armando played a significant role as well."
With that introduction, Maria reached beside the chair she was sitting in and produced a brief case, from which she removed a very thick folder and plopped it on the table in front of Troy. "As Rob said," she began, "Rick and Johnny are not perceived as celebrities...not yet, but I am convinced that that will change and quite possibly before they sign pro football contracts...but you, Troy, you are already a star. Every marketing executive we talked to wholeheartedly agreed, and they were falling all over each other to get you to be their exclusive spokesperson. The contracts in this folder, consequently, are endorsement contracts. In other words, as Rob put it, `big bucks.'"
As Troy clenched his teeth in anticipation, Mrs. Mazure squeezed her son's arm and asked, "How much is `big bucks'?"
"Well," Maria replied, "if Troy were to accept every single contract in this folder, we would be talking about at least two million dollars a year—"
Everyone gasped, and Mom put her arm around Mrs. Mazure to secure her.
"...and that doesn't even include the recording contracts, which we are still negotiating. But," Maria hastened to add, "in order to do that, Troy would have to quit school immediately and devote himself full time to these requirements, and I don't recommend that and neither does Mike. As he put it, Troy should be going for the long game, not the quick win. He can do some work while he finishes high school and college, and when he graduates, he'll be worth even more, I have no doubt."
After everyone had collected their thoughts, Rob again took the floor. "Obviously, there's a lot to think about here. Before you do anything, you need to read these contracts very carefully. Make notes of any questions you may have. We'll all sit down together and go over them with a fine- tooth comb, and then we'll go from there."
In all of the excitement, everyone seemed to have forgotten that we were together to celebrate two birthdays. Ordinarily, I would have celebrated in Troy's bed, but he really needed to go home and talk all of this over with his family, and Johnny and I needed to do the same with ours. I took consolation in the fact that Troy and I had fucked our brains out the night before and again that morning before the party.
When Mom, Dad, and I got home with Maria (she stayed in the guest house), we got on the phone with Mike as soon as possible. He urged us to take our time with the contracts. "You don't have to rush any of this, and you (meaning me) remember what I've taught you: Never take your eye off the ball," which meant that I should not neglect my school work or lose sight of my goal to become a writer.