“We’ll open the workout to the media.”

“I told you—”

“Hear me out,” Micah repeated, holding up his hands. “I know you wanted it to be private, but that does you no good. Let the people see how far you’ve come. Give SportsCenter a few shots for their highlight reels. You make some key catches, add a little razzle-dazzle to a few runs, and you’re set. We can still hold it at the facility on UT’s campus, because that coming-full-circle shit is ratings gold.

“And then, after all is done, we’ll say that you decided not to take any of their offers because it wasn’t enough money to make it worth your while.” He dusted his hands off. “Easy.”

Jamar leaned back in his chair, physically recoiling at the blatant dishonesty in Micah’s plan.

He shook his head. “Something about this just doesn’t sit right with me.”

“Are you kidding? It’s the perfect solution.”

“Knowingly deceiving the teams? Putting them through the expense of coming here when I know I won’t be signing anything? That’s your perfect solution?”

“Are you the team accountant now? Why do you care how much they’re spending? Besides, the only in-person scouts we’ll have are from Dallas, Houston, and New Orleans. These guys don’t care about the money. They see it as a free trip to Austin.”

“I don’t like it,” Jamar said.

“Fine, we make it all virtual. I can call the teams right now and tell them to cancel their flights and tune in to the livestream. How does that sit with your damn conscience?” Micah asked. “And before you give me any more of that bullshit about how this isn’t fair to the team owners, I want to make one thing clear. None of them are going to offer you what you’re really worth. The best you could have hoped for is five million for three years. Being that you have me as your agent, I could get you another half mil or so, but with the way the League’s set up these days, even I can only do so much.

“We can make it so that it looks as if you’re walking away from them, and not the other way around. Trust me on this,” Micah pleaded. “Remember, these are the same people who gave up on you. You don’t owe them anything.”

Jamar chewed his lower lip and tried to ignore the uneasy feeling roiling in his gut.

Even if he removed his aversion to deceiving the NFL teams from the equation, did he really have enough confidence in his knee to put it through that hellish battery of endurance tests? Was it worth the risks?

The better question: Was it worth the reward?