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SANDRO COVELLI TO STERLING GRAYSON: ENOUGH ABOUT FOOTBALL; THE TRAIN NEEDS A MAN!

Covelli shrugs self-effacingly at this juncture.

“I’m sick of discussing what happened in February,” Covelli says, flashing his stunning trademark grin.

“Losses happen. That’s old news. We’ve beaten this subject to death.

This summer’s a whole new ballgame. And the dynasty topic is a non-starter.

It’s bad luck to go down that road when we still have so many goals to meet.

In the meantime, let’s talk about something else. ”

It’s only March. But when the biggest deal in the NFA suggests a subject change, I listen. What does Covelli want to talk about?

“I wanna play wingman for a second,” he says. “Let’s talk about The Train. I want to get him a boyfriend. You ever take a look at the dude? I’m a married man, but he’s a hottie. They’re sleeping on his steez, man. Do people still say steez? ”

Admittedly, I’m not sure.

“Just look at him!” he insists. “Six-four, 265 pounds of solid muscle. Brown eyes you could drown in. And the scruff? Come the f--k on! He’s dreamy. I’m secure in my heterosexuality, and Kai’s the total package. Chocolate thunder. Like I said… dreamy.”

I agree that Kaius Reinhart is ‘dreamy’ and ask Covelli if he has someone in mind.

He arches an eyebrow and leans in.

“Actually, he won’t shut up about Sterling Grayson. He told me the other day that Sterling’s a total babe. And my wife tells me that Sterling is single. I was never great at math, but that sounds like one and one adding up to two.”

I express surprise that Kaius Reinhart “won’t shut up” about anything, given the DE’s famous work ethic and tight-lipped avoidance of the press.

In fact, everything about this alleged interaction strains credibility.

Kai ‘The Train’ Reinhart does not seem like someone who would call anyone a ‘babe.’

“Okay-y-y, so maybe it was only a passing comment. Maybe two!” Covelli holds his hands up. “I’m just sayin’. Sterling, if you read this, call my bro! He’ll treat you so good.”

*Editorial note: This magazine assumes no responsibility for the love lives of professional football players.

***

How do you ask the biggest pop star in the Western world on a date?

As it turns out, you don’t. He has people. You have people. It’s not a meet-cute for the ages so much as it is a complicated matchmaking dance between public relations camps. You weren’t privy to the conversation, but you imagine it went something like this:

NFA Suit Guy #1 : Good morning! I am calling on behalf of Kaius Reinhart?

Star defensive end for the Miami Cyclones?

You might know him better as ‘Kai,’ or perhaps ‘The Train.’ Perhaps you saw him recently in his Mega Bowl appearance?

Yes, the one they lost in overtime. Oh, you’re a New York fan?

I do apologize. Yes, I understand divisional rivalries.

In any case, I’m calling regarding your client, Mister Sterling Grayson?

Yes, the Sterling Grayson. That’s the one I mean.

In any case, our Mister Reinhart formally requests the pleasure of an introduction.

Music Label Suit Guy #1: Well met, NFASG!

You may or may not know this, but Mister Grayson is currently involved in a record-breaking world tour spanning two years and five continents.

His schedule is slightly difficult. Any chance Mister Reinhart would be free between the hours of 5:15 and 5:30 in the afternoon on May 13th of next year, Japan Standard Time?

Ultimately, it takes a few weeks between you shooting a text to your agent and getting a text from an unknown number. It’s eight at night after a long day of OTA drills, and you are sore and bored thumbing through TikTok reels and downing Liquid IV to try and stave off cramps.

629-555-0746: Hi, Kai! I’m Adalyn Ledbetter, and I work for Maeve Mukherjee, Sterling Grayson’s personal assistant. I wanted to get in touch to see if you liked sushi?

You think that’s a weird question, but no weirder than the fact that Sterling Grayson’s PA is so busy that she apparently has staff working under her.

You: sushi’s ok. not big on sashimi or raw seafood, but I can get down with a California roll

629-555-0746: I totally get that. LOL! Are you free on Sunday afternoon? Ster wants to meet you for a late lunch.

You squint at your phone. Cartoon Network is playing on mute across the room.

There are clothes all over the floor, because it’s the night before the housekeeper comes and does laundry.

It’s currently Tuesday. You have a charity event on Saturday, but Sunday is looking pretty open, minus a Zoom meeting first thing in the morning.

Sterling Grayson is asking you to meet. Well, he’s asking you by proxy. But still. What the hell is going on?

You: sounds great, what should I wear?

629-555-0746: Oh gosh, don’t stress about it.

Whatever makes you comfortable. Ster will be at home in Nashville.

He’ll send his plane for noon; is that okay?

A car will pick you up and take you to the airport.

It’s just a 2.5 hour flight, and of course we’ll bring you back home after.

Sound good? You can feel free to hit me back at this number if anything comes up.

It’s a little—okay, a lot more of a commitment than you’d been planning on. It involves out-of-state travel, for Christ’s sake. At the same time… it’s lunch. ( With the most famous person in the world! your mind unhelpfully adds.) How crazy can things get?

You: okay

***

You nap on the flight.

Sterling’s private jet is nice as fuck. A stewardess gives you a tour as you are waiting for the pilots to finish their pre-takeoff checklists.

The interior is all warm wood and buttery-soft tan leather.

The seats are huge and as soft as clouds.

There is a large floral arrangement and a fruit basket on the sideboard.

In the back, a bedroom bigger than your college dorm, with a queen-sized bed made up in black linen.

The fact that Sterling Grayson sleeps there is kind of crazy to you.

In your seat, you are offered water. Coffee.

Snacks. A heated blanket. A pillow. A remote to control the TV, which is equipped with every streaming service known to man, and some that you haven’t even heard of.

Magazines. Newspapers. Plush slippers, which are perfectly white and embroidered with SG on the toes.

You sip a grapefruit La Croix until the engine noise lulls you to sleep.

It’s sunnier in Nashville than it was in Miami, and slightly cooler. There’s a black Town Car waiting to sweep you away as soon as your sneakers hit the tarmac. You climb into the back seat, where an older man in a suit smiles and shakes your hand. It’s instantly obvious that he’s a lawyer.

“Nice to meet you, Mister Reinhart,” he says. His voice is warm, but in that way that you know means business. It’s cold in the back of the car. The air is blasting. You shift in your seat.

“Likewise. Call me Kai.”

“My grandson’s a huge Cyclones fan. He plays Pop Warner football right now. Mitey-Mite.”

You scratch your head. “That’s really cool. You, uh, want me to sign something for him?”

“That would be amazing. A little later, if you don’t mind. I actually want you to sign something for me, but not an autograph.”

He produces an iPad with a lengthy PDF loaded and ready to go.

“What’s this?”

“It’s the boilerplate nondisclosure agreement that we present to new friends of Mister Grayson.

Pretty standard, as far as these things go.

It’s our introductory agreement, since you guys are just getting to know each other.

If you were to, say, become romantic, there would be additional documents to sign. But there’s nothing scary here.”

Warily, you examine the tablet. “I’m actually not supposed to sign anything without Legal looking at it.”

The suit nods knowingly. “Of course. We anticipated that. I’ve been in contact with a…

” He flips through his phone. “A Rodrigo Munoz with the Cyclones’ counsel.

I have an email thread here confirming that he’s examined the contract and is fine with your signing it if it’s personally agreeable to you. Please take a look.”

He hands you his phone. Sure enough, there’s a chain. You dimly know Roddy from Legal; he’s worked with you on some endorsement deals. It’s kind of strange to think that he knows you have a date? A meeting? With Sterling Grayson. You gesture for the iPad.

“Can you give me the short version of what this all means?”

He clears his throat. Goes into a spiel about mutual trust, and how these documents protect that trust between two people.

How personal information is kept protected and private.

How selective disclosure works, and that, upon joint agreement, details about The Relationship might be revealed to media outlets.

The concept of personal boundaries and how they are outlined within the NDA.

Respect for privacy, and how trust and communication are fundamental components of that.

You nod, scrolling mindlessly through the pages and pages of legalese. “And I’m guessing that, if I accidentally say the wrong thing, I’m going to get my ass sued to Hell and back?”

The lawyer frowns. “Mister Reinhart, we always hope that it will never come to that.”

***