Chapter #2 Tom Brady

I sipped lukewarm coffee, appetite lost amid rising nerves. Everything hinged on this gutsy stroke of genius against conventional wisdom. If it paid off even fractionally as I knew history would prove, the haters would be eating their words within two years. But failure here could also destroy what little credibility I'd regained since my mysterious disappearance.

As picks rolled in, more than a few curious glances drifted my way, followed by purposeful sidelong whispers amongst colleagues. I pretended not to notice their doubt and speculation, steeling my resolve beneath a placid mask. At long last, Paul Tagliabue took the stage for our second selection.

"With the 32nd and first pick of the second round," he boomed, "the Cleveland Browns select quarterback Tom Brady of Michigan."

My breath whooshed out in relief masked as a fierce grin, joined by scattered applause and shouts of protest in the theater. Scouts glanced between Tagliabue, their draft board, and me in equal parts confusion and dismay. John Spytek leaned over, brow furrowed. "Dwight, are you sure about this? He's so raw - "

I silenced him with an upraised hand, features set in hard lines of certainty. "Gentlemen, I understand the skepticism, but make no mistake - Brady is the future of this franchise. Everyone sees a sixth-round talent because of one poor combine showing. But that kid has the intangibles that can't be measured, like toughness, intelligence and a killer instinct. Give him a year under our veteran mentorship and you'll see what I see - a future NFL MVP leading us to victory. I stake my career on it."

Silence fell as my declaration sunk in, interspersed by grumbles or relieved nods. Al Lerner quirked an eyebrow, expression impossible to read. I met his sober gaze head on, daring any last dissent. At length, our esteemed leader ventured a small smile. "Well, Dwight, it seems you've convinced yourself. I wish you the very best of luck. Now go call that young man and let's see if your vision holds true, for the good of the franchise and for you I hope so."

My fingers shook slightly as I withdrew my phone, dialing the number provided on Brady's draft profile. Two rings, then a click as the line connected. "Hello?"

"Tom, this is Dwight Clark from the Cleveland Browns. Congratulations - you're our selection with the 32nd pick of the second round."

A stunned gasp crackled through the receiver. "No way. Seriously?! Second Round?? Guys, you're not gonna believe this..." Distant whoops and cheers filtered through before Brady returned, voice thick with emotion. "I can't thank you enough for this chance, Mr. Clark. I promise I'll do everything I can to repay your faith in me, this is the best decistion you could have made."

Warmth bloomed in my chest at his raw gratitude, reminding me why I fought so fiercely for this call. "I think so too , never forgot you earned this through your dedication and skills, Tom. I have no doubt you'll thrive in our system. Now go celebrate - your hard work is just the beginning."

As I ended the call amid a fresh wave of congratulations, something tightened inside me. For the first time since awakening in this bizarre new life, belonging took root. These were my players now, my vision being realized through their successes and failures. I was no longer an outsider observing from afar - I had skin in the game, ready to fight anyone doubting our dream. No matter the cost, I would lead this franchise back to glory by any means necessary.

As the first round of the draft wound down, some kilometers away from New York in Cleveland 11 years-old Tommy Hart bounced excitedly on the couch next to his dad Jim. "C'mon, there's only a few picks left! Who do you think Cleveland will take?"

Jim scratched his beard pensively. "Hard to say with Clark running the show now. Just hope it's someone to help get this defense back on track."

At last, Commissioner Tagliabue took the stage to announce the final selection. "With the 32nd pick of the second round, the Cleveland Browns select quarterback Tom Brady of Michigan."

"What?!" Tommy shouted, nearly toppling his soda. "Who is him?!"

Jim frowned, equally perplexed. Brady wasn't a name they'd heavily scouted. "Sure is a surprising pick kiddo. Wonder what Clark sees in this kid to take him so high?"

In the draft room, boos rang out at the selection while scouts frowned in confusion. Dwight Clark simply flashed a confident grin, already envisioning Brady's future success.

Back on their couch, Tommy clung to hope in their general manager. "Dad, do you think maybe Mr. Clark knows something we don't? Brady must have some real talent if he's worth almost a first rounder."

Jim considered this, ever the voice of cautious optimism. "GM's job is weighing all the factors. We'll have to trust Clark's evaluation for now and see how it plays out on the field."

As the night wore on, analysis slammed Cleveland's "reach" for an unproven Brady. But Tommy remained upbeat. "I bet Brady's gonna surprise everyone! Just wait till training camp starts." Jim smiled, proud of his son's continued faith in their team's vision, even when others doubted. Only time would truly tell if Clark's gamble paid off.

To be continued...