Chapter 4
The end of the 2007 Grizzly football season came abruptly
with a heartbreaking loss in the first round of the NCCA Division I, FCS
tournament to Wofford. Montana was undefeated up until that point, had won the
Big Sky Championship and was ranked 10th in the Football Championship
Subdivision. Wofford had traveled to Missoula, spent Thanksgiving in their
hotel in preparation for the Saturday game, and was a pretty significant
underdog.
With
32 seconds left in the game, Wofford scored but failed on the two-point conversion
to put them up by one point. Montana still had enough time to march down the
field on Wofford. With 4 seconds left, Montana attempted a 47-yard field goal.
The Grizzly kicker pulled the ball wide left to end their season being defeated
by Wofford, 23-22.
For
most of the Montana seniors, this would be the final game of their careers. That
realization was obvious to some of Trick’s best friends he had grown close to
over the years. Football was such a huge part of their lives and now it would
be gone—gone knowing they had come up short on their senior goals. Gone with
the feeling that they could have done so much more. Gone knowing they will
never have the chance to redeem themselves.
For
Trick it was different. Although there was a lot of things that would have to
happen for him to make an NFL team, he believed in his heart that this game
would not be his last. He certainly was bummed about the loss. He wanted to win
just as much as the next guy and in fact, he really felt bad for his teammates
and spent a good part of that evening and the next day consoling them. However,
Trick didn’t have a lot of time to think about the failure of this game. His
mind was quickly shifting to the Combine. Even while kneeling on the
47-yardline after watching the final kick hook wide-left, it was a bitter-sweet
kind of feeling for Trick. Part of him was just excited to get on to the next
chapter in his football career.
The
2008 NFL Combine was held in late February in Indianapolis. Three-hundred and
thirty potential draftees were expected to be at the Combine to be put to the
test in front of NFL coaches, doctors and scouts. Each had their own personal
trainers and although agents aren’t allowed in the dome where the workouts are
held, each player also had an agent present in the city.
Trick was a bit overwhelmed by the prospect of going pro.
There weren’t a lot of Grizzly players who had gone into the NFL so there
weren’t a lot of players to take advice from. It was amazing however, that so
many people knew he was on so many teams’ radars. Because of that, agents were
crawling out of the woodwork to talk to Trick and potentially, be signed by him
as his representative.
A few weeks before the Combine, Trick decided he would
interview a few of these agents in order to have some representation Indianapolis.
A good agent will work with general managers from teams the player is
interested in, in order to get his name on their board if he isn’t already. Mike
Morley sat in on the interviews with Trick and acted as his personal trainer.
Mike knew fitness and he knew Trick. He also had a sense
for reading people and wouldn’t let Trick fall to the charm of some of the
sleezier solicitors. Football is a business above all else at this level. Some
agents only care about their client’s wellbeing because they know if their
client is safe, healthy, and in a good place; they make money. Some agents
actually care about their clients as humans. Mike was going to make sure Trick found
the latter.
Bret Colter was one of those agents that reached out to
Trick soon after the end of the Grizzly’s season. He was relatively new to the industry
but as green as he was, he was also passionate about taking care of his clients
and had the fire to prove himself on the big stage.
Mike and Trick agreed to meet with Bret via Skype a week
before they were headed to Indianapolis. As the screen popped up on Trick’s
laptop while sitting at Mike’s kitchen table, Bret introduced himself. He
wasn’t a very large man and was obviously a bit nervous. Mike could see the
beads of sweat forming on the peach fuzz that lined Bret’s upper lip. He was well
put together at first look, wearing a suit and tie that wasn’t quite tailored
to him but looked good anyway. As Mike took a closer look, however, he could
see the sweat stains on the almost white collar of Bret’s shirt. Mike figured
this was probably Bret’s only suit and he was doing the best he could to come
off as a pro.
“Did you play?” Mike asks Bret with a bit of skepticism.
“Pardon me?” Bret asks.
“Football,” Mike responds. “Did you play football?”
“Ah, no. No, I didn’t after junior high.” Bret admits. “I
didn’t have the size and to be honest, I got tired of getting my ass kicked by
dudes like your boy here. You are Trick Patterson, correct?” Bret makes a
gesture towards the screen.
Trick pipes in, “Yeah. Good to meet you, Bret. I am Trick
and this is my trainer, Mike Morley.”
“Well, it’s good to meet both of you,” Bret says. “And
it’s good you have someone like Mike looking out for you, Trick. This can be a
pretty intimidating process. There are a lot of sharks out there. Trust me, I’m
not one of them. However, this is a business, Trick and I’m not going to
bullshit you. You are a commodity and potentially, a very valuable one.”
“How do we know you’re not a shark?” Mike butts in.
“You don’t. And I don’t know Trick won’t be a bust but
that’s what relationships are built on-kind of a leap of faith.” Bret explains.
“All I can say is that for me to be successful, we have to be successful as a
team. I know that sounds cliché but it is reality. We all have a role and if we
stay on top of our game and take care of what we have control over, we all
prosper.”
“Tight lines,” Trick interjects a little under his breath.
“What’s that?” Bret asks.
“Oh, it’s just a fly-fishing thing,” Mike answers for
Trick. “Tight lines…basically just means control what you can control--keep the
line tight and good things will follow.”
“No, I know that,” Bret admits. “You guys fish? Well, I
guess you’d have to. You live in the middle of fly-fishing paradise, right?”
“Yeah, we get out from time to time,” Trick says. “You?”
“Damn straight,” Bret declares. “And I started before, ‘A
River Runs Through It’. My parents used to bring me out to Big Sky every summer
and I’d spend just about every minute of every day on the Gallatin fishing for Yellowstone
cutties in the just downstream from the Park.”
“No shit?” Mike asks.
The three spent the better part of the next 1/2 hour or
so talking fly-fishing before getting back to the business at hand but that
conversation did more to convince Mike and Trick that Bret was genuine and would
become a valuable member of the team than any resume or client book Bret would
produce ever could. The thing about talking fly-fishing with people that
actually do fish, is that you know when someone is bullshitting you and Mike
was convinced that Bret was a straight-up dude.
A week later, Mike and Trick were meeting Bret in
Indianapolis the day before the Combine. They were all a bit nervous and spoke
openly about it. They all had a role. Mike’s was that of support to Trick and
to help him get to where he was supposed to be, when he was supposed to be
there. Bret was meeting with general managers and doing everything he could to get
Trick on teams’ draft boards. Trick’s job was to just be Trick and work his ass
off and he did.
The
Combine is grueling with skills and agility tests; running obstacle courses, 40-yard
dashes and weight-lifting competitions, and doctor’s exams. Players also take aptitude
tests and sit in on mock-interviews with coaches asking anything from who their
favorite player is and why to what kind of animal they would be if they were reincarnated.
It was all just a game to see how the players would do under pressure. The answers
weren’t really all that important but being able to think on their feet and give
concise answers with confidence was.
At the end of the week, all the evidence was saying Trick
absolutely crushed every opportunity he had to impress the coaches and scouts. Bret’s
job was made easier as he was hearing a lot of buzz from the general managers about
Trick’s performances. They were quickly moving up the draft boards of a lot of teams.
Good tight ends are a huge commodity in the NFL and finding one with the size
and heart to block a defensive lineman, often out-weighing them by 50 pounds,
while having the hands to catch passes downfield isn’t easy. The prospect of a
player like Trick really gets a general manager excited, which was obvious with
all the talk coming from the teams. Now all they had to do was wait for the
draft and keep Trick safe and in shape.
The day after the Combine concluded, Bret drove Mike and
Trick to the airport. They reflected on the week and spent a good part of the
drive patting each other on the backs; shared stories of some of the other
athletes and what the teams were saying about Trick. They played the game of
projecting who might select Trick in the draft, in what round and for what
quarterback he might catch his first NFL pass from. It was all so surreal for Trick
and for Bret, this could be the client that bolsters his resume, opening the
doors to other top draft prospects.
As the three walked through the airport, Mike decided to propose
an idea to help keep them all grounded.
“You know what we ought to do?” He says. “Let’s go
fishing. I feel like the wheels are starting to spin a little faster than we’re
ready for. I think a few days on the Missouri might help bring us back to
center.”
“What’re you talking about, Mike?” Trick asks.
“No, I mean, I’m glad you’re excited but let’s ground
this plane for a minute and not get too ahead of ourselves.”
“You saw what happened out there, Mike.” Trick responds.
“We crushed it!”
“Yeah, we did. Well, you did, Trick and you should be
proud, man.” Mike continues, “but let’s just dial it back for a minute. I don’t
mean to squash your excitement but let’s breathe—gain some perspective.”
“Mike’s right,” Bret cuts in. “We should go fishing. This
process can certainly catch up to you and if you don’t take some time to slow
it down, you might find yourself getting trampled by it. Besides, I’d never
give up an opportunity to fish with a real Montana angler.”
“Who said you were invited,” Mike asks while cocking his
head sideways and grinning ear-to-ear.
“Bullshit,” Bret declares. “This sounds like a business
trip to me and I’m coming.”
“Alright,” Mike concedes. “But if you show up with
brand-new Orvis waders, boots and a vest, I’m not letting you in the boat.”
As Mike and Trick boarded their plane, they looked back
to say goodbye to Bret.
“Tight lines, boys,” Bret shouted out.
“Tight lines,” Mike and Trick answered back in unison.
It was almost 2 months before the NFL Draft, which gave
the newly formed team plenty of time to plan a fishing trip. Weather can be a
bit sketchy in the springtime in Montana so pushing it back a few weeks was
going to give them a better chance at hitting the weather right. They chose the
weekend of April 12th and 13th, which was two weeks
before the draft. That would give them time to set some logistics for the trip and
the timing would give them a good break from all the anticipation for the draft
and all the strain from phone-calls and pro-days from NFL teams.
Mike wanted to do something special for Trick. He wanted
to take him somewhere he hadn’t been yet. Living on the west side of the
Divide, they had spent all their time fishing the Blackfoot, Bitterroot, and Clark
Fork and their tributaries. All those rivers were amazing and Trick had become
a pretty respectable angler but now Mike wanted to put him to the test. He
wanted to take Trick to the Mighty Mo.
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