Page 107 of Game Plan

What if it’s just accolades and ego boosts, and I’m just afraid of walking away from that? What if the money is great but it takes me away from the things that matter?

Mom and Dad are getting older, and I’d love to spend more time with them. Sunny is growing like a damn weed, and it would be great not to have to miss July to February of her life every year. I’d love to travel, to grill out with Branch—maybe to start a family, depending on how Poppy feels about it.

And, of course, to spend time with my girl.

My heart isn’t here anymore. My heart is … out there. With my friends and my family. With all of the things that I’ve made this money to be able to afford and experience.

Maybe now is the time to do those things while I still can.

Before life changes again.

“Your obligation, your commitment, is to this team,” Kepner says. “You’ve been a great player for us, and you know that I think you have a few more years in the tank to help us win another championship or two. But I need to know you’re committed and this bullshit at home isn’t going to become a poison in the locker room.”

I sit taller. “Mr. Kepner, could you excuse me for just one second?”

“Sure,” he says, surprised.

“Thanks.”

I get up and step into the hallway and pull out my phone. It takes a second to find Chuck’s number, but I do and call him.

“Hey, Miller,” he says after the third ring. We chatted briefly about the headline last night, so we’re on the same page about that. But what I’m about to say? Guess we’ll see. “Are you doing okay?”

I give myself one last chance to rethink this decision, but my choice is made. I don’t need more time.

“I’m good, actually. But I need you to send my notice of retirement to the Legends, effective immediately.”

The line grows quiet.

“I’m done, man,” I say, shaking my head. “My heart just isn’t in this anymore. And I’m not gonna go out there and play half committed because that’s when guys get hurt.” I can guarantee my head isn’t going to be out there. I’ve already checked out.

“Have you thought this through?” Chuck asks. “I know you’re not the kind of guy who makes impulsive decisions, but I gotta ask, man.”

“Yeah,” I say. “I’ve thought it through. This is what I want.”

“Do you want to think about it? There’s no rush.”

I grin. “Nope. Send it through, please.”

“All right then,” he says, exhaling. “We’ll get some papers together. We’ll have them in your email this afternoon. I’m gonna need you to approve them before I actually send them over to the team.”

“I appreciate it.”

“Check the areas that I highlight carefully,” he says. “There’s some tricky language in your contract that I need our attorneys to look over before we submit this. I’ll mark those spots—specifically the ones that deal with the financial implications of your decision. Call me if you have any questions.”

“Sure. One more thing.”

“Shoot.”

“I don’t know what happens with the endorsement deals we’ve been dealing with for the past couple of weeks. I’m assuming my retirement voids them. Let me know if I need to do anything on my end. If money has already switched hands, I’m happy to refund it immediately.”

“Let’s just hold off on that a second,” he says. “Yes, you’re retired. Yes, that’s a hiccup because you’re not gonna be on TV every single week, but you are still one of the most popular athletes in the country, and your name will still be discussed through the year. So there’s a chance that some of these companies will want to continue working with you, but they may cut their offers.”

“That’s fine,” I say. “Just let me know, and we’ll work it out.”

“Sounds like a plan.” He sighs again. “Finn, I hate to hear this. And I’m not gonna be the only one.”

“I know. I appreciate that, but this is where I am right now.” I pause. “I guess I have one more question. When does my retirement take effect, exactly?”