Donald was still the same as ever, reserved, with only subtle expressions that hinted at his quiet confidence. Lance couldn't help but smirk, tilting his head, "I'm starting to feel like I've boarded a pirate ship—is that normal?"
Donald nodded calmly, completely unphased. "Perfectly normal. It means you recognize you've made a major life decision."
Lance's smile widened as he lifted the A4 papers in his hand, "So, is this complimentary?"
The training plan included a professional trainer, a nutritionist, and a massage therapist—a full support team for intensive preparation. Clearly, these were not volunteers; someone had to cover their costs.
Donald shook his head, "The most expensive things in life are often those that come free. I'm advancing these expenses, and we can settle them after the draft."
Lance: Perfect. He'd barely cleared his "debts" at Alabama, and here he was, back in the game with a new set of debts.
But Donald was right. Transparent and fair dealings create long-term partnerships. The two had just completed their first negotiation with a mutual understanding, marking a promising start.
With everything set, Donald took his leave.
Both Lance and Donald had their work cut out for them. On the road to the NFL, there was still one last challenge waiting. There might not be any fireworks or visible battles, but the importance of this endeavor was on par with any championship.
Lance waited patiently for a response from within. But instead of a voice, the office door opened, and Coach Saban appeared in person.
"Coach," Lance said, surprised.
Saban smiled, peeking out the door and glancing around, "No fanatical fans following you today?"
For once, he made a joke.
Lance relaxed, "They stopped at the stadium gates, thank goodness. They haven't yet cracked the code to our locker room."
Saban chuckled, gesturing for Lance to enter, "Need a drink? I have water and Gatorade here."
"Water's fine, thanks." Lance settled into the chair across from Saban's desk.
Saban noticed Lance's damp hair and the sweat on his jersey. Lance had clearly just come from a training session. Saban had seen this level of dedication throughout the season, yet it still amazed him.
True top-tier players were always a combination of talent and discipline.
Many players with incredible talent dominated the college scene but found that at the professional level, they were just another gifted athlete in a sea of talent. Here, everyone was in the top 1%, and the difference came down to 0.01% in talent combined with 99.99% in hard work.
Lance was undoubtedly talented, but he was just as determined.
Even with the national championship only recently behind him, Lance hadn't allowed himself to relax.
Saban had to admit he'd misjudged Lance, initially viewing him as a promising rotation player. Now, he realized Lance had far greater potential.
Saban was curious: when Lance entered the NFL, how would he compare to another one of his protégés, Derrick Henry?
Saban sat down, "So, you're here to talk, which means you've probably made a decision with your parents?"
Lance nodded, "Yeah. I want to try going pro."
A look of approval softened Saban's features, and he smiled. "If you declare for the draft, all eyes will be on you."
"For one, you're still new to the sport—a diamond in the rough, and even teams with no interest in a running back will be curious. Whether they're picking you apart or observing closely, there will be plenty of eyes on you."
"Secondly, you're of Chinese descent. The NFL has never seen a starting player of Chinese heritage, so some might be watching you with the curiosity of a circus act."
The NCAA had never had an Asian American star either. But given that NCAA teams rostered upwards of eighty players, and that college athletes didn't earn salaries, they'd largely gone unnoticed.
"I can imagine there are a slew of mini-camp invitations for you before the rookie camp. Actually, I already have a pile myself."
"Just this morning, someone called to ask if you'd be entering the draft."
"My advice? There's no need for any of it."
"Don't attend a single one."
"You've got enough buzz. Going to a mini-camp would just be performing like a trained animal. Save the time and energy for training and show them what you've got at the rookie camp."
Genuine, practical, and kind.
It was clear Saban was looking out for Lance's best interest.
Lance's heart warmed, "Thanks, Coach. My agent gave me the same advice."
Donald and Saban were aligned.
Saban nodded slightly, though his expression hinted at concern, "Agent?"
Lance thought he was worried about regulations. "I haven't officially signed anything. I haven't accepted anything inappropriate; we're just speaking."
Saban waved his hand, "I trust you. What I meant was, who's the agent? Those guys are sharks. Be careful not to get eaten alive."
Saban's words were earnest, like those of a concerned elder.
Lance chuckled, "Donald Yu. If you have a minute, feel free to ask around about him for me."
Saban didn't hesitate, "I'll make a few calls to check him out."
Lance handed over the training list Donald had provided. "He suggested I start training before the rookie camp."
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