He glanced down the line, a tunnel of silence around the 40 yards in front of him, and the realization that he was here suddenly smacked Gunnar Helm.
A long way, truly, from Cherry Creek — in Indianapolis, a thousand miles and several years removed. A long way from the kid who couldn’t crack varsity for a couple of years, who was a stone’s throw away from calling his playing career over. He dug his hands into the turf and released a deep breath, mouth forming an O as he exhaled. But the jitters still shook him, a false-start whistle blowing on his first 40-yard attempt at February’s NFL combine.