The Draft by Wil Mara Page B

Love?”
    â€œSavage and Holbrook are old-timers. I’d get a year out of them if I was lucky. And Hill’s a rookie. I don’t need rookies. Milton Love, though, he’s got promise. I’ll take him off your hands.”
    â€œSo I guess you wouldn’t want Harper, either.”
    â€œThat’s right. Send him to the retirement home.”
    â€œOkay … what about Bartlett?” Jon pleaded, sliding down to from the “can trade” section to the “prefer to keep” area. He was hoping he wouldn’t have to do this at any point. Now, only ten minutes into the first call, it was unavoidable. “He’s in great shape and probably our best backup. A tremendous cornerback with a real future.”
    â€œMmm … I agree. Now that’s a good offering. I’ll take him in a heartbeat.”
    Jon smiled. “Good, so we’ve got a deal?”
    His heart sank when Henderson chuckled. “No, not quite yet.”
    â€œHuh?”
    â€œThe picks don’t do me any good, either, Jon. We already have other draft picks this year, remember? I can’t use picks—I need players. I need guys who can perform right now. First of all, your draft picks are so low that each kid we took would be a gamble. That’s wasted money as far as I’m concerned. Second, the Hewlett family wants results immediately. And frankly, so do the fans. If this team doesn’t turn around quick there’s going to be a rebellion in this town. That’s why I was brought here—to get things moving. If I go back to Carlton Hewlett, Sr., and say, ‘Well, we’re thinking of building up slowly, through the draft,’ he’s going to send my ass out the door so fast my clothes’ll have to catch up with me.”
    Jon felt the situation was drifting beyond acceptable boundaries. A package that looked so good fifteen minutes ago seemed like a pile of crap now.
    â€œWell, you can use those draft picks to deal higher up and get better talent. You could make trades with other teams for—”
    â€œNo, that’s your job,” Skip said flatly. “I’m not going to get into that whole mess when I’ve got other teams already offering me real talent. Jon, you’re a terrific GM. One of the best in the business. So I don’t need to point out that you have to offer a comparable deal if you want to compete in this situation. Offensive players and low draft picks are not the answer.”
    Jon studied his list of defensive players. “We just don’t have that much to offer in the defensive area. You’re telling me the Chiefs do?” Like all good general managers, he was familiar not only with his own roster but those of other teams in the league. “They haven’t had a good defense in ages. What are they offering, their whole starting squad?”
    â€œNo. In fact, they’re not offering much off their own list at all.”
    Jon was dumbstruck; a reaction he didn’t experience often. He sat in his black leather chair and stared into space as a gaudy pendulum clock with a swinging Ravens logo marked off the seconds on the wall behind him.
    â€œYou mean they’re doing deals with other teams?”
    â€œYou got it.”
    â€œGood God…”
    Henderson snorted a little laugh. “I know, it’s pretty amazing. They must really want this pick. And, just so you know, the Texans and the Seahawks have been doing the same thing. I don’t know about the Broncos. I haven’t heard from them in a while.”
    Jon was barely listening. His mind was swirling with the manifold implications of what Skip just said—multiple teams making multiple deals with multiple other teams in an attempt to put together the best defensive package in order to secure one draft pick. It was enormous; potentially historic in its proportions. And he knew he had no choice but to get involved in it.
    â€œUh,