Coming of Age
By: Brock Archer
(© 2020 by the author)

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

barcher@tickiestories.us

Chapter 7
The NFL Draft

On the last Saturday of April, the Murphy and Andersen clans gathered in front of the Andersen’s large-screen TV to watch the first day of the NFL Draft. As expected, Mike was drafted in the first round—not by the Dallas Cowboys, but by the San Francisco 49ers. It was a bittersweet celebration, but more sweet than bitter. Even before all the hugs and pats on the back had been exchanged, the phone rang. “It’s for Mike,” said Johnny.

“That was my agent,” announced Mike. “He wants me in New York tomorrow morning to begin contract negotiations. He has booked me on a red-eye flight out of Austin.”

“You have an agent now?” asked Dad.

“New York?” asked Mom.

“Yes ma’am. All the team owners are there for the draft, and so is my agent. He said he has some other matters he wants to discuss with me too, but he didn’t say what.”

“I think you just didn’t want to have to sleep in the single bed tonight,” I teased.

“Anything to get away from you, bro.”

On Monday morning the news broke even before Mike had a chance to call us: he had just signed a 4-year contract for $6 million a year. The press was calling him the Six-Million-Dollar Man.

Big deal. I’m Patrick Captain Fuckin’ America Murphy!

 From New York, Mike had to fly back to Austin for the last two weeks of his college career. Then, one day after school, I arrived home to find a very sexy sports car parked in front of our house. When I ran into the house, I found Dad scolding Mike for spending his money frivolously and even before he had received his first pay check.

Mike explained that he had not spent any of his money on the car. “Those ‘other matters’ my agent wanted to discuss with me,” he explained, “were commercial endorsements. You are looking at the new spokesman for Lexus…as well as several other big companies.”

Mike went on to explain that the contract requires that he not be seen in public driving anything but a Lexus, which they will provide. “That’s a very snazzy car,” said Dad. “They couldn’t have given you something less flashy?”

Lexus, said Mike, was getting ready to introduce a new performance car that they described as ‘strong and fast; bold, but dependable; revolutionary, but classy; and, of course, sexy,’ “so that’s why they chose me,” he boasted, with his nose turned up in the air like a drama queen. Mom and Dad had to chuckle despite themselves.

“What are the ‘other big companies’ you mentioned?” I asked.

“Well, I’m glad you asked that,” he said, handing me an envelope he had pulled out of the pocket of his new sports coat.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“Why don’t you open it and find out?”

From the envelope, I pulled out two cards, one with the Levi’s logo and the other from Apple, both headquartered in the San Francisco Bay Area. “What am I supposed to do with these?” I asked.

Mike called them “account cards.” The Levi’s card, he explained, had a cash value of $5,000, which I could spend on any Levi’s products, and the Apple card had a $10,000 value.

“My lord,” said Mom. “You’re going to spoil that boy rotten.”

“I think he can handle it,” Mike said.

“Can I go show Johnny now?” I asked.

“I have a better idea,” Mike suggested. “Why don’t we all go? Dad can drive the Lexus over there, and Mom can drive us back.” On the way to the Andersen’s, dad commented on how well the car handled, and Mom gushed over the luxurious interior.

Of course, $15,000 in account cards was peanuts to Johnny, but he was very gracious because he knew how much it meant to me. And he was thrilled to see Mike again.

Back at the house, Mom set about getting supper on the table while I sat in the living room making lists of things I planned to buy. Dad and Mike stood on the front porch catching up.

“That was real nice what you did for your brother,” said Dad.

“Well, I just told the marketing execs that if they wanted me to be their spokesman,” said Mike, “the cards had to be part of the deal. Anyway, I think he’s worth it.”

I didn’t know if they realized that I could hear them, but I could.

“I don’t know what you said or did to Rick when you were here last Thanksgiving,” Dad said to Mike, “but whatever it was has really changed him. He’s really matured. He was always a good kid…like you were…but he’s becoming a man now.”

“I’m glad you brought that up,” said Mike, “because I wanted to talk to you about that… about Rick. I think you should let him go out for football this fall.”

I was shocked, but I knew that would never happen. Football would take too much time away from my chores.

“He’s a great kid,” Dad, “and he’s smart as a whip, but he also has a natural talent for football, and he needs to experience what it’s like to be part of a team.”

And here comes the door slamming in my face.

“I’ve always wanted to give him that,” said Dad, “but who’s going to do his chores if he’s spending his time on football?”

“We’ll hire somebody,” said Mike. “Actually, I’ve already put out some feelers.”

“Oh, really? And since when did this become your farm?” Dad scoffed.

“Dad, you and Mom have busted your tails for us, and there’s no way we’ll ever be able to repay you. The things that are coming to me now are there because you and Mom made them possible.”

“You don’t owe us anyth—”

“Dad, if you won’t let me do this for you, let me do it for Rick…and Mom.”

Dad just stared at Mike for a few moments before walking back into the house. “Rick,” he addressed me, “would you be interested in trying out for the football team?”

 *******

The rest of the spring and summer passed like a Texas twister. Mike spent as much time with us as he could between quick trips to New York and San Francisco. One day in early June, Mike sent me out to his car with instructions to bring in the stuff in the trunk.

“Have you and Mom ever had a vacation?” Mike asked Dad. “Son, you know how it is running a farm.”

“Just as I thought,” replied Mike, “and you probably never even had a honeymoon, did you?” Without waiting for the answer, which he knew to be negative, he handed Mom an envelope with two first-class tickets to Hawaii—just as I was coming through the front door with the luggage set he had sent me to fetch.

“But where would we stay?” asked Mom. “Marriott Hotels—one week in Honolulu and one on Maui. I just signed an endorsement contract with them. They’re paying for the flights as well as all of your accommodations and meals. You’d better go start packing,” he said. “The limo is coming to pick you up first thing in the morning.”

“But I don’t have anything to wear,” protested Mom. “Pack light,” said Mike. “There’s a shopping mall in the basement of the Honolulu Marriott, and anything you buy there can go on your hotel bill.”

“But why the rush?” asked Dad. And Mike explained that he and I would both be going off to training camp soon and that Mom and Dad needed to take their trip while we were still around.

“Oh, so you’re going to look after the farm while we’re gone?”

“Heck, no!” scoffed Mike. “That’s Rick’s job. I’ll be here to supervise—which means that I get to sleep late—but Rick will be the one actually running the place.”

“Me?” I asked, with my eyes popping out of my head.

“Why not? You know this farm better than I do and almost as well as Dad.” Then, turning to Dad, he added, “You said yourself that he’s practically a man now. Here’s his chance to prove it to you.”

The next night, Mom called from Hawaii to let us know that they had arrived safely. “It’s the honeymoon suite,” she gushed. “Oh, really?” Mike pretended to be surprised. Mom went on and on about how nice everyone had been—from the limo drivers in Austin and Honolulu to the bellboys at the Marriott—and how the hotel manager had greeted them on their arrival and handed them an envelope containing $2,500 “to cover any expenses outside of the hotel.”

What Mike didn’t tell Mom was that as soon as I had finished my morning chores, he had taken me to Austin to use my cards from Levi’s and Apple. I bought jeans, of course, but also some shirts and a couple of jackets. At the Apple store, I picked out a desktop for the farm, a laptop for myself, software, a printer, and other accessories. When I went to pay for everything, the manager said that my purchases had exceeded the $10,000 limit on the card, so Mike advised him to call the customer service number on the back of the card. A short time later, he handed the card back to me and told me that everything had been taken care of. “Thanks,” I said, “but I guess I won’t be needing this card anymore.”

“Oh, Mr. Murphy” (he called me by my last name), “the gentleman on the phone authorized your purchases. Your card still has its full balance.” I couldn’t believe my ears. I couldn’t wait to get home with that computer so I could start jerking off to porn videos.

Back at the farm that evening, Mike and I reviewed résumés of candidates for the farmhand positions, and we conducted six interviews the next morning. Of course, Mike was with me through the entire process, but he had me take the lead. “You’re the boss,” he said. “You make the decisions.” I hired two men, Eddie and Carlos, and they reported for work the next morning.

Like me, both men had grown up on local farms. Unlike me, Eddie actually enjoyed getting his hands in the dirt. Carlos was eager, but he had ambitions to become an agricultural businessman. He had already completed several courses at the local community college.

Both men were fluent in Spanish as well as English, as were all of the members of my family. When you grow up in South Texas, you either thank your lucky stars for the opportunity to learn another language and appreciate another culture, or you bury your head in the ethnocentric sand.

Carlos was Mexican-American, but he was hardly an immigrant. His family had been working the land we were on for generations, long before Southern plantation owners goaded Congress into launching the Mexican-American war in order to bring Texas into the Union as a slave state.

During the two weeks that Mom and Dad were gone, Mike and I reviewed Dad’s books for the farm, and Mike showed me how to computerize all of the records. After all, he had just graduated from the University of Texas with a degree in business.

When Mom and Dad returned from their “honeymoon,” I introduced them to Carlos and Eddie, our new farmhands, and showed them the surprise I had for them.

Behind the barn, we had erected a combined bunkhouse, guesthouse, and office. At the center of the building were a small den and a kitchenette with seating at the counter. On one side of the building was a bedroom with two bunkbeds (and room for more), a large bathroom, and an office where we had set up the desktop computer and a printer. On the other side of the building was a large bedroom suite with a king-size bed.

“And this will be my room when I’m here,” said Mike.

“Oh, so you’ve decided that, have you?” asked Dad.

“Well,” replied Mike. “The boss (pointing at me) did say that I should sleep in the barn.”

“How did you manage to do all this in just two weeks?” Mom asked. Mike explained that through his contacts at ESPN he had talked to some folks at HGTV, and they had agreed to erect the building in exchange for the rights to film the project for a future broadcast.

The next morning, Dad, Mike, and I followed Eddie and Carlos as they did the morning chores. Dad expressed his surprise and pleasure at how efficiently they worked. “Rick’s a good trainer,” Mike told Dad.

After breakfast, Mike said, “Let’s go to the office,” where we showed Mom and Dad how to use the computer to keep track of the financial records as well as Websites that could  help with planting and harvesting schedules, weather forecasts, and farming trends. Mom and Dad picked it all up very quickly, which is a good thing because Mike announced that he and I would be leaving in three days and would be gone for a week.

“Oh, where are you taking our young farm manager?” Dad asked.

“Yeah, where are we going?” I asked, surprised as anyone.

“Hawaii,” replied Mike.

“Hawaii?” Mom asked.

Mike explained that on his last trip to New York, he had signed a contract with Andrew Christian. “Andrew Christian? Who’s that?” asked Mom.

“It’s a company that makes swimsuits and underwear for men. They want me to do a photo shoot in Hawaii for their new advertising campaign.”

“Does this mean that we’re going to be seeing you on national TV wearing nothing but your underwear?” asked Dad.

Mike explained that the photos would appear mostly in magazines and Websites. “Compared to Marriott, Lexus, and Apple,” Mike said, “it’s a pretty small company, but I thought it might be fun, and my agent thinks it will be good for my image.”

“Oh, you’ve got an image now?” Dad asked. “And does your brother have one too?”

“No…well…not yet,” replied Mike. “But he’s been working pretty hard, and I thought he deserved a little vacation before he goes off to football camp.”

“I can’t wait to tell Johnny,” I said. “He’s going to be very jealous.”

“Not really,” said Mike. “He’s going with us. I cleared it with his folks last week.” 

To be continued...

Posted: 12/18/2020