INDIANAPOLIS — Chase Coffman has spent the past month living out of a suitcase in a vacation rental home. No need to look for an apartment. No need to unpack, really. His job prospects could vanish with a phone call.
This has been his August for seven years now. Airports. Hotels. Locker rooms. Playbooks. Pink slips. Phone calls. New hotels. New locker rooms. New playbooks. More pink slips. It’s the tense, trying existence of a player holding on for dear life at the basement of an NFL roster, where jobs are churned through like turnstiles and lives are uprooted on a daily basis.