As the sun dipped behind the mountains, casting a golden glow over Brigham Young University’s campus, Chase Roberts sat on the edge of the locker room bench, his mind racing. The Alamo Bowl against Colorado was just days away, but today, his thoughts were consumed not by the upcoming game, but by the future. His future.
The 6’3″ wide receiver had spent the past three seasons making his mark on the field, with every leap, every catch, every dive. His performances were not just impressive—they were breathtaking. Every weekend, fans filled the stands, chanting his name, watching in awe as he made gravity-defying grabs. NFL scouts were already whispering about him, his name starting to circulate among top prospect lists. But the decision he now faced wasn’t about the game on Saturday—it was about his career after college.
It was a tough choice. He had a shot at the pros, no doubt, but was he ready to take that leap? The draft was a long road, filled with intense scrutiny and even harsher realities. He had seen it happen to teammates before—the sudden shift from the college spotlight to the grind of professional football. Injuries, competition, the pressure to perform—everything intensified in the NFL.
On the other hand, there was something magnetic about the idea of leaving college football behind. Chase had grown up watching the NFL with his father, a former athlete himself, who had always dreamed of seeing his son make it to the big leagues. He couldn’t deny the lure of it. A multi-million-dollar contract, national fame, the respect of teammates, and even the opportunity to prove himself as one of the best in the world—it was a dream every athlete shared.
Yet, something still tugged at him.
He loved BYU. He loved the bond he had with his teammates, the mentorship from his coaches, and the tight-knit community that had rallied behind him since day one. There was comfort in this world, a world where he had earned his place through hard work and determination. The idea of leaving it all behind felt unsettling, like stepping into the unknown without a net.
Chase’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw the name “Coach Reynolds” flash across the screen. Taking a deep breath, he answered.
“Chase, how’s the headspace?” Coach Reynolds asked, his voice warm but firm.
“I’m good, Coach. Just… thinking.”
“About the game?”
“Not exactly. More like what happens next.”
There was a pause, and for a moment, Chase could almost hear his coach processing his words.
“I get it,” Coach Reynolds said finally. “This is a big moment, and it’s okay to feel uncertain. But let me tell you something—your future isn’t about just the next game or the next season. It’s about the legacy you build, the life you create. Whatever you choose, you’ve already shown the world what you’re capable of. You’ve given it everything, Chase. No matter where you end up, that’s something no one can take from you.”
The words sank in, their weight grounding him. Legacy. It wasn’t just about football; it was about who he was becoming, both on and off the field.
After a long silence, Chase spoke, his voice steady but thoughtful. “I’ll make my decision after the Bowl. But right now, I want to give everything I have to this team. For one last time.”
Coach Reynolds chuckled softly. “That’s the spirit. Go out there and finish strong, Chase. Whatever happens, we’ll be proud of you.”
As the call ended, Chase leaned back, his eyes lingering on the golden sunset. He wasn’t ready to decide just yet. There was time, and for now, he would focus on the here and now—the Alamo Bowl. But the weight of his future loomed over him, a reminder that the biggest plays of his life weren’t just on the field, but in the choices he would soon have to make.