Free First Position by Prescott Lane Page A

his coffee, a few people staring as he wandered.  He sensed they knew his face from somewhere, but couldn’t place it exactly.  Such was the life of a journeyman quarterback in the NFL -- one who’d never fully reached his potential.  He walked past a boyfriend and girlfriend holding hands, unconcerned by time or place, without a care in the world.  They stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and kissed for no apparent reason.  He missed those days.
    Mason turned a corner and saw a church across the street.  He stopped and stared, drawn to its beauty, admiring its stately red brick facade.  The heavy iron doors swung open, as the faithful filed out from Sunday morning mass.  He walked closer to the church and came upon a bronze nameplate: St. Peter’s Catholic Church, established 1851, currently run by the Jesuits.  He looked up at the towering steeple.  It had been years since Mason saw the inside of a church, probably not since Steven’s wedding.  He regularly attended pre-game Sunday services, but he and Alexis never attended mass together during the off-season -- not even Christmas or Easter.  He regretted allowing his Catholic faith to take a backseat during his marriage.  He wasn’t raised that way.  His life and his own choices had turned him away.
    He walked through the doors, dipping his hand in holy water, and made the sign of the cross.  A handful of people remained scattered throughout, kneeling in prayer after mass.  His eyes scanned over the ceiling and altar, the interior of the church as majestic as the exterior, the stain glass windows illuminating a rainbow across the stone floor.  An elderly, dark-skinned priest cleared the altar, while an altar boy blew out two candles nearby.
    Mason slid into the last pew and got on his knees.  Father Tony walked slowly down the aisle in his direction.  Mason saw the altar coverings were violet, signifying it was Lent.  He’d totally forgotten -- he certainly hadn’t given up anything this year.  The  only seasons he cared about, for as long as he could remember, were football season and off-season.  That was how he told time.  But now he was in a different place, at a different time.  He closed his eyes.
     
    God, thank you for bringing Em back into my life.  Please let it be for more than these few days.  I’ve made poor decisions, but please allow me a second chance with Em.  Lately, I’ve prayed only for my arm to heal and another chance in the NFL, but I’ll give it all up for her.
    Father Tony finally made his way down the aisle and put his hand on Mason’s shoulder.  “We could use you,” he whispered.  “On Sundays during the season, I wear a Panthers jersey under my robe.  I figure it couldn’t hurt.”
    Mason smiled then spent a few more minutes in prayer before making his way back to his hotel, where he took a short nap followed by room service for a late lunch.  He showered and shaved, keeping one eye on the alarm clock in the room.  It was thirty minutes until Emory.  His mind continued to race, wondering what she wanted to talk about, but his thoughts were interrupted when his phone rang.
    “Carolina just faxed me an offer,“ Steven said, looking at the document, still warm from the transmission.  He sat behind his messy desk in his home office, surrounded by a laptop, paperwork, and large binders.  Olivia yelled something to him from another room, which he pretended, once again, to ignore.  He adored his wife and knew the son she was carrying was a great blessing, but he’d grown tired of her hormonal outbursts, louder and more frequent as her due date approached.
    “Finally, some good news.”
    “I didn’t say it was a good offer.  In fact, I think it’s shit.  One year, $1 million.  They gave us a week to decide.”
    Olivia continued to yell.  Steven thought it was something about a food craving but couldn’t be sure.  It was time for business.  He didn’t have the energy or patience to ask