[div align=\\\\\\\"left\\\\\\\"]Dear Mother,
I write to you on this twenty sixth day of February of the year two thousand and thirty six. Anxious eyes await what’s to come, my legacy that I’m trying to build soon will come to fruition. Coach Washington called me the other day. Since the Development Simulation Football League general managers aren’t allowed open communications when it comes to talking about drafting and such with me, they’ve been reaching out to him.
I’ve been hearing good things from Coach Washington. He says they like my work ethic, and he even told them the stories of me leading some of my teammates downtown to scout the other team’s arsenal, and successfully commandeering it and basically using their own “canons” against them. They were quite amused.
Things have made sudden turns recently. Scouting reports were released, and I have to say… I’m kind of feeling miffed. Some mock drafts have me falling past the second round, but I’m not sure if that’s accurate. If we’re to go by my inside sources that is. Coach Washington told me not to worry, that these idiots are nothing but click baiters looking for a payday. Just a classic example of jealousy he says. Also, it turns out I’m one of the fastest players in this draft class, and I’m only getting faster as the days progress.
The League has been kind to me, barring a few individuals. Such as Zamir, and Tristan. I tried giving them the advice that one of my college mates gave me once. “Talk less, smile more. Don’t let them know what you’re against or what you’re for.”
They didn’t… They didn’t take too kindly to it. As a matter of fact, they tried to turn it around on me. Jokes about you flew, and well. I’m a Hamilton with pride, I can’t let stuff like that slide. I’m here to make you proud, and when they tarnish you, they are attacking me. Attacking you and I can’t let it stand. I challenged them to duel, but. Apparently that’s only legal in New Jersey and we’re nowhere close. I’m not expecting much from them if we’re being honest here. Kind of a shot in the dark from me here.
Enough about them though. I made a friend. He’s a decent person, puts in the work. Same work ethic as me, if not more. His name is Cadillac Harris, and I fully expect him to drive me to be better. We have a friendly rivalry going. He’s a defensive back as well. Solid first rounder, if I were a general manager.
Then there’s Zamir. A loud mouth, arrogant prick. Who doesn’t know his shit. Quick to pop a few nonsense words and slow to retort. He doesn’t know the difference between a spoon or a fork. He however knows what will make me tick. Time to skip forward to draft day. I’ll be sending you a combo package this time…
The day is finally here! The day we have all been waiting for. The Developmental Simulation Football League Draft! I’m super excited for my new chapter, and I know you would be too if you were here. I’ll be in the green room with Coach Washington, and we’ll have an empty seat reserved for you at the table.
Draft Night -
Round one ended and I’m still here. I have to say, I’m a bit disappointed? But only one corner back was selected so far, so it seems the teams have a certain priority. “Fret not though.” Coach Washington told me.
My time will come. Another selection, and I’m still sitting here. Pick number ten goes up. Maybe I was wrong? Was I over confident? No, I always let my skill do the talking for me. Pick eleven is up, and at this point I’m losing hope. Then, Portland does something.
“With the eleventh pick in the Developmental Simulation Football League Draft, the Portland Pythons select Alexander Hamilton II. Corner back from Princeton University.”
It happened. Everything has come to fruition. My dreams, my legacy. It begins in Portland. I’m informed over a phone call that I’m to leave for Portland immediately to begin training. Coach Washington smiles, shakes my hand and gives me a hug. I’d be lying if I said there weren’t tears shed. This man, my mentor. Stepped into the role of my father when all he had to do was be my coach. I owe him everything. All my success hinges on the man who took a shot at me, and it didn’t go to waste. He saw the attitude I brought, the resilience I had. The work ethic in which I produced… But then. Something happened amidst the celebrating.
“With the twelfth pick in the Developmental Simulation Football League Draft, the Portland Pythons select. Zamir Kehla. Corner back from University of Texas El Paso.”
No. This couldn’t be. The man I swore I hated with my very soul. Every fiber of my being fell ill, I was sick to my stomach. How could this have happened? The loud mouth arrogant prick. Zamir, my sworn enemy endorsed by my very own team now? A dream quickly turned into a nightmare.
Wish me luck mother. I’m going to need every ounce you can spare me.
Sincerely,
Your son, Alexander Hamilton II
[/div]
I write to you on this twenty sixth day of February of the year two thousand and thirty six. Anxious eyes await what’s to come, my legacy that I’m trying to build soon will come to fruition. Coach Washington called me the other day. Since the Development Simulation Football League general managers aren’t allowed open communications when it comes to talking about drafting and such with me, they’ve been reaching out to him.
I’ve been hearing good things from Coach Washington. He says they like my work ethic, and he even told them the stories of me leading some of my teammates downtown to scout the other team’s arsenal, and successfully commandeering it and basically using their own “canons” against them. They were quite amused.
Things have made sudden turns recently. Scouting reports were released, and I have to say… I’m kind of feeling miffed. Some mock drafts have me falling past the second round, but I’m not sure if that’s accurate. If we’re to go by my inside sources that is. Coach Washington told me not to worry, that these idiots are nothing but click baiters looking for a payday. Just a classic example of jealousy he says. Also, it turns out I’m one of the fastest players in this draft class, and I’m only getting faster as the days progress.
The League has been kind to me, barring a few individuals. Such as Zamir, and Tristan. I tried giving them the advice that one of my college mates gave me once. “Talk less, smile more. Don’t let them know what you’re against or what you’re for.”
They didn’t… They didn’t take too kindly to it. As a matter of fact, they tried to turn it around on me. Jokes about you flew, and well. I’m a Hamilton with pride, I can’t let stuff like that slide. I’m here to make you proud, and when they tarnish you, they are attacking me. Attacking you and I can’t let it stand. I challenged them to duel, but. Apparently that’s only legal in New Jersey and we’re nowhere close. I’m not expecting much from them if we’re being honest here. Kind of a shot in the dark from me here.
Enough about them though. I made a friend. He’s a decent person, puts in the work. Same work ethic as me, if not more. His name is Cadillac Harris, and I fully expect him to drive me to be better. We have a friendly rivalry going. He’s a defensive back as well. Solid first rounder, if I were a general manager.
Then there’s Zamir. A loud mouth, arrogant prick. Who doesn’t know his shit. Quick to pop a few nonsense words and slow to retort. He doesn’t know the difference between a spoon or a fork. He however knows what will make me tick. Time to skip forward to draft day. I’ll be sending you a combo package this time…
The day is finally here! The day we have all been waiting for. The Developmental Simulation Football League Draft! I’m super excited for my new chapter, and I know you would be too if you were here. I’ll be in the green room with Coach Washington, and we’ll have an empty seat reserved for you at the table.
Draft Night -
Round one ended and I’m still here. I have to say, I’m a bit disappointed? But only one corner back was selected so far, so it seems the teams have a certain priority. “Fret not though.” Coach Washington told me.
My time will come. Another selection, and I’m still sitting here. Pick number ten goes up. Maybe I was wrong? Was I over confident? No, I always let my skill do the talking for me. Pick eleven is up, and at this point I’m losing hope. Then, Portland does something.
“With the eleventh pick in the Developmental Simulation Football League Draft, the Portland Pythons select Alexander Hamilton II. Corner back from Princeton University.”
It happened. Everything has come to fruition. My dreams, my legacy. It begins in Portland. I’m informed over a phone call that I’m to leave for Portland immediately to begin training. Coach Washington smiles, shakes my hand and gives me a hug. I’d be lying if I said there weren’t tears shed. This man, my mentor. Stepped into the role of my father when all he had to do was be my coach. I owe him everything. All my success hinges on the man who took a shot at me, and it didn’t go to waste. He saw the attitude I brought, the resilience I had. The work ethic in which I produced… But then. Something happened amidst the celebrating.
“With the twelfth pick in the Developmental Simulation Football League Draft, the Portland Pythons select. Zamir Kehla. Corner back from University of Texas El Paso.”
No. This couldn’t be. The man I swore I hated with my very soul. Every fiber of my being fell ill, I was sick to my stomach. How could this have happened? The loud mouth arrogant prick. Zamir, my sworn enemy endorsed by my very own team now? A dream quickly turned into a nightmare.
Wish me luck mother. I’m going to need every ounce you can spare me.
Sincerely,
Your son, Alexander Hamilton II
[/div]
![[Image: 05mahaI.png]](https://i.imgur.com/05mahaI.png)
