Inside Threat (46 page)

All the pundits said Riley had the skills to be a first rounder, but he'd begun to wonder if the specter of mandatory military service was just too much for most PFL teams. Riley's dad kept feeding him words of encouragement, and his mom kept feeding him lemon pound cake. Half a day and three-quarters of a cake later, he finally heard his name called in the third round. The cheers in the Draft Central auditorium could only be matched by the screams in that little house. To be chosen in the PFL draft and to be chosen by the Colorado Mustangs—what could be better than that?

The selection had been a definite risk for the organization, but they felt it was worth it if they could bag someone with Riley's playing potential. Of course, both Riley and the team would have to wait. Riley had no problem with serving out his commitment. He was more than willing to fight for his country—die for it if necessary.

And he had come fairly close to doing just that. The bullet he had taken during the firefight back in the Bagram Valley in Afghanistan had entered just above his hip. It had chipped a bone and caused a lot of bleeding, but thanks to the quick medical evacuation and the incredible medical team at Ramstein Air Base in Germany, the only lingering issue he had was a dull ache when the weather turned.

After returning from Germany, Riley had been called to his commanding officer's desk. The CO had looked up directly at Riley. “Covington, I brought you in here to make you an offer I hope you won't take. The higher-ups want me to give you the ludicrous choice of opting out of the rest of your full-time service commitment to the United States Air Force so you can go play in the Pro Football League. You'd stay in the reserves, and we'd have you in the off-season until your time's up. Now, I've seen you lead men, and I've seen you save lives. I think it would be a shame for you to give up the chance to make a lasting difference for this country so that you could go play some kids' game. But, hey, that's the choice I'm told I have to offer you. You've got twenty-four hours. Dismissed.”

Riley had struggled with the choice as he walked back down the willow-lined street to his quarters. A lot of what his CO had said was right. Would choosing the PFL be taking the easier and less meaningful way out? But he could still make a difference in many people's lives playing football, right? And he certainly wouldn't be the first guy to follow such a path.

The precedent for a professional athlete opting out of military obligations had been set after the first Gulf War. Chad Hennings had returned a war hero after having flown A-10 Warthogs during the liberation of Kuwait. Although he had a long commitment still awaiting him, the Air Force believed he would serve them better in a public-relations role. It turned out to be a great decision; Chad had taken the opportunity to help lead his football team to three championships during the nineties.

Once the door was opened, others had stepped through. Steve Russ and Chris Gizzi both served full-time for a couple of years after the Academy, then completed the bulk of their service in the reserves during the summers while spending most of the year playing professional ball.

Riley wrestled with the decision through the night. He had made a commitment to the Air Force, and he did not take that lightly. The guys of his squad depended on his leadership, yet to a man they told him he would be a complete idiot not to jump at this opportunity. Still, he held back.

Finally, early the next morning, a three-way call had come from his dad and grandpa.

“God has given you the abilities and the opportunity to do something that few people have a chance to do,” Grandpa Covington had said. “Obviously, He's got something special in mind for you.”

“Riles,” his dad said, “you know that whatever decision you make, we'll be proud of you. We're much more concerned about who you are than what you do.”

By the time Riley hung up the phone, it was like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He finally felt free to pursue his dream. Why it was so important to get the go-ahead from these two men, he couldn't say. Maybe he wanted their affirmation, maybe he wanted their wisdom, or maybe it was just plain old respect for their opinion. All he knew was that their words were the key that opened the door to his PFL career. Six months later, he said his final good-byes to full-time Air Force life.

Riley chuckled to himself as he thought about the final party his squad had thrown for him before he left AFSOC. He had never seen so much alcohol in his life. While he nursed his Diet Coke, his guys gave speeches that became more syrupy and less coherent as the night wore on. Skeeter Dawkins gave him a tribute that stretched out for a record eighteen words, and Kim Li actually cried during his fourth toast of the evening. The party had officially ended with last call at 2 a.m., but Riley had spent until four thirty driving his men home.

Two weeks after that, he was running onto the Mustangs' practice field at the Inverness Training Center.