Quick Flights

Everyone has always said not to gamble, especially in Vegas. “You can’t beat the odds!” “The odds are stacked against you!” True, but that was far from the only reason why you have such a tough time winning in Vegas.

When you last went to Vegas, think about it, you probably had a near impossible time winning anything. It felt like the odds were a million to one on every hand. In terms of the game you were playing, those weren’t the odds. Sure, they were rough. But maybe they were a thousand to one. The rest of it came from the fact that people like me existed.

I wasn’t sure how many of us there were. It felt like thousands of us. Which wasn’t as much as it sounded like considering there were billions of people on the planet. But the thousands of us had a gift. I didn’t know why I had it, if I got it from my parents, or what. I didn’t remember my parents. They died when I was very young and I grew up in an orphanage. It would be sad if I had any memories of it at all. But yeah, thousands of people were born with this rare gift. We were superhuman. Yup, superhumans existed. And remember back when superpowers depicted in shows and comics were always so simple? It was straight and to the point and not something so convoluted and fancy like it was nowadays? Those people who came up with the characters of late were really doing too much. The original ones, the original characters they came up with, with powers straight and to the point, they were the closest.

Our special power, we were extremely fast. And we could fly, just for short periods of time, mind you. Then again, with our speed, that meant we could still travel great distances. I once did 3,300 miles and nearly killed myself, I had sapped so much energy from my body. So, that was my rule, don’t go over 3,300. Wondering why no one’s ever seen a person flying thousands of miles? Because of the speed, baby!

We were so fast, we could leave our spot, travel hundreds of feet to another position and then back to our original position, and you wouldn’t have even seen us move. You’d just see a strange flicker. You ever noticed how sometimes, you’d catch a flash, like something moved? And you’d blink your eyes expecting to see something that moved? Or something that was different? But when you focused, everything was the same. Probably one of us. People explain that phenomenon all the time. “Oh, I thought I saw something move just now.” But everything looked the same. So, nothing could have moved, right? Oh, but you did see something. Just barely.

You probably saw the person sitting across from you get up, bolt off somewhere else to do something, to see something, and then return to their seat. Which would bring us back to Vegas. Do you have any idea how easy it was for us to sit down at a poker table, wait for some dumb schmuck to lift his cards and take a look at them, bolt over, sneak a peek, and return to our seats? That was why you could never win at Vegas. Because the thousands of us superhumans realized we could go to Vegas and clean up… and clean you out.

Naturally, a lot of them took it to great lengths and got crazy rich. Some of them were smarter, just doing it occasionally, but making some decent coin. Most of them were greedy in their desires for money. For me, not so much. I wanted to be comfortable in life, and I had some other desires. But I frequented Vegas, made sure to walk away a loser a couple times, just so no one got suspicious, but made sure to walk away a moderate winner plenty of times too.

Also, going back in time for a moment, while in high school, I grew a love for football. I had a growth spurt and a large frame. I looked like a natural for the game, and then I realized, hey, how about that incredible speed? Of course I wouldn’t be able to use it to the maximum speed, people would be clued in to my secret. But I could finagle just how fast I would run. I didn’t have to go all out… to the nines. Like a car, I had different speeds. So, sometimes, I just made sure to be the fastest person on the field, going off for huge touchdown runs. It got me a college scholarship. I kept it up there, implementing the same strategy I would later use for Vegas. Not making myself untouchable, not making myself always a winner, but putting on the burners plenty of times so that I was regarded as one of the best and fastest wide receivers in college.

I declared for the draft, and I did such a great job tapering my talents so I wasn’t so good I didn’t seem human.

Heh.

I was picked 26th overall in the draft, fourth wide receiver off the board. That wasn’t bad considering I got picked by my hometown team, the Baltimore Ravens. Also, the Ravens were good that year, so being picked later on was a benefit, I actually went to a good team.

My career went along. I was good. I made sure to make myself good enough to earn a big new contract. Just in case that didn’t happen, because apart from the speed, I also had to be good at football, running routes, catching the ball, all that, I had to have a backup plan. It wasn’t like I had superhuman talents for all of those qualities, just the speed. All of those talents all came from a lot of work. What if I was just fast and not good enough? That was a real possibility. So, I implemented the Vegas strategy.

I had money coming in from Vegas, I had money coming in from football. I was swimming in it. I finally had enough to do something I always wanted to do, set up a program for orphans to learn more than what was offered in school… to see more than what was offered in school. I remember being in the orphanage, going to school, just getting the most basic education. I wanted to know more but I wasn’t afforded anything else. The orphanage was doing their best to just keep all the kids healthy and accounted for. We didn’t have parents or family to offer us anything else. I saw where a lot of the other kids were headed. Nowhere good.

I had football, and my superhuman speed. And flying. I was going to be OK.

But finally, I had set up the program. It had been going on for a couple years, and I was always contributing more things to it. Contributing things so kids could learn more about science. About history. And a new thing had presented itself. One of the oldest known British Pounds in the world. It was held by a British soldier who died in America during the Revolutionary War, held onto by the American soldier who had killed him, passed down from generation to generation, somehow wound up back in England… and was up for auction.

Imagine being able to show that to the kids. The story! The excitement in their eyes to see something that was almost 300 years old! I had to get it.

The problem was, the auction was happening late at night in England. On a Sunday. And yes, it coincided with a game I was going to be playing in Kansas City. My initial thought was, just leave during the game, fly to London. Like, literally, fly to London. But that was just out of my reach. Just over the limit.

Kansas City was in Missouri, buried deep into the United States. Far from the ocean. And the ocean that separated our country and England’s was about 3,000 miles, putting me right at my limit. I couldn’t get to England from Kansas City.

But I could get there from Massachusetts.

The Patriots wouldn’t be using their stadium that day, they had a game in LA. What if I did something to the stadium in Kansas City and made it… unusable? But even then… several other city’s stadiums would be up for grabs if the teams would be so nice to lend them out. I checked all the schedules, all the games. Our stadium was in use for a concert, and along with the Patriots’ stadium in Massachusetts, there were three others that would be available.

I couldn’t have that.

Four days before the game, I set out on quite the journey. First to Kansas City, broke a water main, flooded a huge area of the field.

Sorry guys! It’s for the kids!

Next, I was off to Pittsburgh, did the same. They didn’t need the stadium that week and they’d get it fixed in time. Then, I flew to New Orleans, did the same, and then to Denver, another small flood. And then, I was back home.

The next morning, it was announced the field in Kansas City, among others, were flooded, and they’d be unusable this week. Luckily, three of the four weren’t needed this week. But Kansas City needed their field! Drat!

I prayed that the obvious solution would rear its head.

And it did. The owner of the Patriots suggested the Chiefs use their field for their game. It was put in motion! Thank goodness!

Our team booked the flights to Massachusetts and I made sure to rest up for the ensuing game… and the big flight.

It was game time, and I was physically ready, but mentally, probably only about 70% present. I kept thinking about when I’d need to depart to head to the auction, and how I would be extremely fast, but at the same time, it wasn’t going to look like a blip when I sped off. I’d be gone long enough, I’d vanish. No one could see this happen. I needed to line things up with the auction and the game perfectly.

This was an important game too, whoever won it would take the 1-seed in the AFC, and with just a couple games left for each of us afterwards, it was likely whoever took the 1-seed here would keep it through the regular season and into the playoffs. The 1-seed was the most important thing going into the playoffs, giving yourself the best chance to make it to the Super Bowl.

We kicked off to the Chiefs first and they had a decent return. Their opening drive was masterful and surgical as they plucked their way down the field, driving to the 10-yard line, and then tossing the ball in for a touchdown. They were up 7-0. We had the ball next, and had several good plays, marching all the way down to the 20-yard line. It was 3rd and 7 and the first pass came my way, but I dropped it!

I was so mad at myself, we had to settle for a field goal. 7-3. And I was open beyond the first down marker, I would have kept the drive alive. I clearly wasn’t focused. That was the problem. But the other problem, I couldn’t stop from being halfway focused. Another important thing was going on. I kept checking the time. I didn’t need to leave yet. In fact, I had an hour or so before I’d have to leave. I could definitely wait until the end of the second quarter to start paying attention to the time for the auction once again.

OK, I recommitted myself to concentrating on the game. The Chiefs drove down and got another touchdown. 14-3. When we were on the field, I was hyper focused. But I could only help if the ball was thrown to me. I had no control over that. I’d just have to make sure to use my speed to get completely wide open so my quarterback would have no choice but to throw it to me… even though I had a bad drop earlier.

On a 2nd and 6, I got wide open sprinting to the right, even though it was a jog for me, and the ball came my way. I caught it past the first down marker and ran another 15 yards before letting someone tackle me. A full gain of 24 yards. Later in the drive I ran up past the first down marker, dug my cleat in the turf, and spun around, catching the ball as someone tackled me to the ground. Another 8 yards. And then soon after our running back ran one in for a score. 14-10.

We were in the second quarter and the Chiefs threw an interception. We did nothing with the ball and had to punt. They had an uneventful drive and had to punt as well. We were backed up in our own territory, two insignificant run plays and a 3rd and 7. We were nearing the two-minute warning, but they gave me a go route.

Go. That was something I could certainly do.

I put the burners on and left the defender in my dust, gaining about 5 yards of separation from him… and it could’ve been so much more… and I thrust my arm in the air. A bomb was launched for me and I caught it, and then dashed the rest of the way for an 89-yard touchdown. I already knew what the commentators were saying.

“That’s just what Dillon Hauser can do! Take the top off the defense!”

17-14 us.

And now I was checking the time repeatedly. It was almost time. Our defense stood up the Chiefs and we took the lead to halftime. Everyone was gathering around the coach but I told a trainer I needed to use the bathroom urgently and snuck off. I closed the stall door behind me… and it was time.

The landscape of Massachusetts flew by me and then I was leaping into the air, soaring over the Atlantic Ocean, and in England shortly after. I found the place where the auction was taking place, had another short flight there, and was ready for the auction. I sat and awaited my item to come up anxiously and found myself out of breath. Probably so worked up over the idea of getting this British Pound!

Real time was going by now though. I needed them to pull the item up now! As far as everyone knew, I was in the stall, halftime was ticking away, and I needed to get out of here ASAP!

The item was up and I bid immediately. I had some competition early but most of them gave up when they saw the young stud was serious and had deep pockets. But not the one older guy. His pockets must have been even deeper than mine. But was his mental fortitude as strong? I raised the bid. He raised it. Then me. Then him. He wouldn’t give up. We kept going up incrementally, and so finally, I had to break the pattern to scare him off. I doubled his last bid and the “ooh” sound from the audience let me know I had really come with the heat on that one. The man looked shocked, and I almost allowed myself to give a confident smile, but I stopped. I held it back. All too often in life, someone knew they shouldn’t do something, but they may be the type of person who would have too much of an ego to listen to reason. Right now, this guy could walk away with his ego intact. Whatever, he just didn’t get the item he wanted. But if he saw me, the young kid, grinning confidently, that could put him over the edge and push him to bid further even when he knew he shouldn’t.

He looked like the type.

I kept my face in the most mild and neutral state I could. He looked over at me, gave a small smile and even smaller nod, and didn’t bid anymore. The British Pound was mine. I gave my information out to the people who needed it and said I had to dart out in a hurry.

I really did.

I found a secret spot to “vanish” and was flying back over the Atlantic Ocean. Halftime should still be going on, though almost over with. The ocean was zipping by underneath me, but then, I started to be able to make out details I normally couldn’t. Waves. An island. Normally, I was moving too fast to be able to appreciate the details beneath me. My arms and shoulders ached. My core was shredded. Oh no, I was slowing down! I wasn’t out of breath because of the auction before! It was because I was tired. I had flown across an entire ocean. I guess the last times I had flown and reached my limit, I hadn’t flown again for a couple hours, giving myself time to recuperate. This had to be 10 or 15 minutes. I hadn’t recovered yet.

And I was slowing down even more, my body running on fumes. My body ached more and more. This wouldn’t be good, I was about to plunge into the depths of the ocean. I kept pushing on, searching every which way, looking for something to help me. But I was in the middle of nowhere. The ocean was just 100 feet below me. There was nothing for me here. But maybe…

…there was something for me… above.

I angled myself upwards, still zooming along faster than most vehicles could move, but raising up higher, higher, into the frigid temperatures. Ooh, this didn’t feel good. But it was my only chance. I kept raising higher and higher. My ears plugged and my body felt nearly frozen. And then off in the distance, I saw the tiny gray speck. A plane! On its way to the U.S.

I was still moving faster than the plane, though not by so much. I was almost out of energy. I angled towards it, closed in, smelling the fuel burning from the backside. My arms were so sore they felt like they were decorated in hot embers, and I couldn’t feel my toes or nose from the freezing air. The plan was there, 500 feet away. I pushed towards it, slowing down just at the end, and latched onto the back!

Oh wow! What a savior.

I lay there, pathetic and helpless, my muscles screaming for assistance. I let them recuperate, vowing not to use a single one of them. They needed as much recovery time as they could get. I had myself positioned neatly on the plane, not moving, just sitting there, wedged onto it, and feeling the cold air whip past my face.

I still wasn’t afforded much time, but it was better than nothing. The plane carried me along, closing the distance a bit. Although that wasn’t the most important thing the plane was providing me. It was providing me with a lifeline. A quick breather. But halftime had to be almost over with. I allowed myself a 20 second countdown, just to allow those muscles the tiniest bit more recovery time. I was so relaxed. And then I hit 20. Muscles still aching, but not pushed to their limit anymore. I pulled myself, readied myself, and leapt!

I flew the rest of the way over the ocean, found land, found the stadium, found the locker room, found the bathroom, zipped past a concerned trainer who was coming in and looking for me, and ducked into the stall… all undetected.

“You OK in there, Dillon?”

I flushed. “Yup. Just something I ate. Or nerves.”

“It’s cool, you’re killing it out there! Now come on! Let’s finish this game!”

I walked out and washed my hands. I turned and looked at him and smiled, realizing I needed to catch my breath again. “I think I’m good.”

“Dude, you’re solid. No one can catch you when you get going.”

We were back out on the field immediately as we received the second half kickoff. Oh how I wish we were sitting on the sideline waiting for the defense to do their thing. My body was shredded.

We started with a run play and I was supposed to block a safety but he knocked me over and ran in for a tackle. Next, a pass play to our tight end. He caught it. Next, a pass to me, but I couldn’t get open. A rarity. And the ball sailed past me. We trudged off to the sidelines.

“Come on! Let’s get our heads in the game!” Someone yelled.

I nodded. I sat on the bench and prayed for a long drive by the Chiefs so I could rest. I drank water and just sat there, breathing deeply. Bringing my body back to life. The Chiefs stalled out, but not before putting up a field goal, tying it 17-17.

Our next drive was unsuccessful, I had no speed left in my body, I was reduced to a human, one who wasn’t even a professional athlete. The ball kept going to other players and we couldn’t move the ball far enough and had to punt it away. I sat on the bench again, praying for some more rest to bring my body back to life.

I could hear the commentators now. “Dillon Hauser does not look like himself!”

The Chiefs drove down and got a touchdown. 24-17. But the drive took some time and I had gotten a little more recovery time. Was I ready?

We went out there and a few passes came my way. I wasn’t getting much separation, but a catch for 8 yards, another for 12, and another for 7, along with my other teammates chipping in, put us in field goal range. 24-20.

The game clock was winding down, and we still needed a touchdown to win. We’d need to put something together soon. My body was machine after having helped to cobble that drive together, I felt like a phone that kept getting down to 1% battery, only to get charged up to 10%, unplugged, and expected to run operations once more. I couldn’t get my body back to fully recovered. But at least that last drive only took a little bit out of me. Maybe I could recover again on the sideline… some more…

The Chiefs had the ball and they were marching down the field, and then close to the end zone, our defense caused a fumble! They got the ball back! We were back on the field, the entire length of it to drive, and enough time to do so… but we were only going to have this one shot. I didn’t feel fully ready, but I didn’t have a choice. I was ready enough, and that was going to have to be… enough.

A quick run and a pass to someone else got us to move down the field slightly. After two incompletions, we needed a play. I pushed myself as hard as I could, tapping into what little superhuman ability I had in me and pushed past the defender, getting open and seeing the ball sailing towards me. I plucked it out of the sky and collapsed to the ground, the defender landing on top of me. Our team was going nuts on the sidelines.

33 yards!

We kept pushing the ball down field, thankfully, we were going to the other receivers. I could barely even run a route. Several short gains put us at 3rd and 6 on the 15-yard line with 33 seconds left. An incompletion brought it down to 24 seconds, 4th and 6, no time for anything other than to go for the touchdown really. It was now or never, and everyone knew that. And I was the extreme talent on the team. I’d have to come up big.

I lined up on the outside, to the right, the future Hall of Fame cornerback standing opposite me, his mouth guard squeezed so tightly in his teeth it looked like it might burst. The sweat and dirt peppering his face was of no consequence to him. All he saw, all he knew, was me. His veins bulged with each squeeze of his fists, readying himself for my attack. I looked to the left, my quarterback was examining the coverage, trying to figure out what was coming. The other receiver lined up next to me, Jenkins, was panting… exhausted. But his route was so important for my route to succeed. I hoped he was ready.

I hoped I was ready.

I told myself, it was just one more play no matter what. I just needed to give it everything I had in me. I’d lie down after the game. Right now, I had to put everything out there on the field.

“Hike!”

I jumped at the sound and moved to the right. The cornerback flinched and followed me, all while Jenkins ran ahead and veered to the right. I cut back to the left, running underneath Jenkins. The cornerback saw Jenkins in his way and knew he couldn’t get to me.

“Switch!”

Jenkins jammed his foot in the turf and cut back to the left at the sound of the cornerback’s scream, instantly turning sharp to the left. He ran the route perfectly. This kid was a rookie, but I could see he had potential to be a Hall of Famer himself. It was the little things that mattered. The defensive backs were confused over who to take already, and now Jenkins was passing by in front of me, and I cut back to the right again, angling myself for the corner of the end zone.

“Switch again!”

The cornerback didn’t know what to do. He was on his heels, stumbling back, and I was blowing by him. Even my minimal energy left was enough to produce speed that he couldn’t keep up with. I was running as fast as I could, and astoundingly, that was a speed in which humans could actually hit. A fast speed, but still, an Olympic sprinter could’ve beaten me in that moment. Still, no one on the football field that day could have caught me. And the cornerback had lost his head start, I was passing by him as he was trying to turn his hips and give chase. I was past him. I was in the open.

Nothing but green in front of me. And then that painted end zone.

I turned over my shoulder and saw my quarterback’s arm extended, the ball had already been flung from his hand. What timing!

I pumped my legs, angling for the corner of the end zone. The ball placement was… nearly perfect. I’d just need to stretch my arms out for it.

I stuck them out and it felt like my nerves and muscles and skin were all tearing right off! I couldn’t straighten my arms, my elbows were bent just slightly. I pushed and pushed. Extending my fingers. Reaching.

Reaching.

I felt the football connect with my fingertips, but it wasn’t close enough to pull in. It bounced off my fingers and fell to the turf. I stumbled forward and fell.

The whistle sounded.

I pulled myself off the ground and lugged my carcass back to the sidelines. The Chiefs took a knee and won. They had the 1-seed. People patted me on the back, but more pats were delivered to the shoulder of our quarterback. It looked like he overthrew me. To the naked eye, to the common observer, even to many pros, it looked like he just led the ball too far out of my reach.

I tapped him on the shoulder. “Bates. That wasn’t you.”

Bates shook his head. I repeated myself and patted him hard on the back. I don’t know if Bates knew it. He was probably blaming himself in his head. Me and Bates had played together for years. We had a chemistry. We knew each other. He knew my speed. He knew where to put the ball when I was running a route… if I was 100%. I didn’t get to the spot I needed to get to. But of course, Bates was questioning himself.

At the press conference, I asked Bates if it would be alright if I went up with him. He was shocked because no one ever had. But he agreed. They asked him the first question, about overthrowing me. I immediately interrupted.

“Y’all know me.” I said confidently. “No one can overthrow me. I’m the fastest in the league. I don’t say that to brag. We just lost. I’m not on an ego trip. I’m just stating the facts. No quarterback out here can overthrow me, not even Bates.”

“So, what are you saying?” A reporter asked.

“I’m saying, that wasn’t on Bates, because as amazing as his arm talent is, he can’t overthrow me. That was on me. I wasn’t where I needed to be. I didn’t get to the spot Bates knew I could get to. That was all on me. That route was designed to see me exactly where Bates placed the ball.”

Reporters scribbled and typed away. Bates patted me on the back. We all went back to our hotels. I watched a little TV, and I saw the analysts talking about our game, but I turned them off before I saw too much. I was devastated after the loss. I could hear what they were saying in my head, anyway.

“Good on Hauser to take the blame. Because it was on him. He did have an off game.”

It was a bummer, but it wasn’t the last game of the season. It wasn’t the playoffs yet. We’d be there. We’d get another chance. But I had a once in a lifetime opportunity… and I got it. A piece of history. Something the kids would love.

I could already hear them in my head.

“How old is this thing?! Over 200 years?! That’s amazing!”

A kid who had a rough start would get to see something, and learn about something, truly amazing. Amazement would be brought to him. It could change him. And that was what it was all about.

**************

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