Landon Jackson stood on the practice field, the Arkansas sky a wide, open canvas of autumn hues. As one of the Razorbacks’ most formidable defensive linemen, he had spent years building his name—earning that coveted consensus four-star rating through grit, sweat, and a drive that often left his teammates in awe.
Today, however, wasn’t just any other practice. Whispers had been circulating among the staff and players that Landon had officially qualified for the NFL draft deadline. It was a milestone that only the most talented athletes reached. Some had always seen it coming. Scouts would often visit to see him in action, their eyes glued to his powerful tackles, watching for the next star to make a splash in the pros.
But for Landon, it was more than just eligibility. It was the dream he’d held since he first picked up a football. He could see his family on the sidelines, his mother with tears in her eyes, his father beaming with pride. They had supported him since he was a kid playing in the backyard, and now, he was on the edge of something monumental.
As practice ended, his coach pulled him aside, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Landon, you’ve got a chance to make history,” he said, his voice firm but full of admiration. “Keep your head high, stay focused, and know that all of Arkansas is behind you.”
With a nod, Landon smiled, feeling the weight of the journey that had brought him here. The NFL was calling, and he was ready to answer.