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do a double take. Last night number 14 was a short black guy. Today he is a tall white guy.
    Before practice starts I meet my new position coach. Steve Watson, aka “Blade,” was a star receiver for the Broncos in the 1980s. He played his entire nine-year career in Denver. Blade is tall and lean with a full head of dark hair and a friendly disposition. Some old-time football players hobble through life and look like they’re about to take a knee at any minute. But Blade’s still springy and spry. He welcomes me with a handshake and a smile and offers a few words of encouragement. On my way out to the field I meet Coach Shanahan, too. I’m obviously nervous. He’s a small man but outsized, with a presence as big as the Rockies. I stammer through a greeting, thank him for the chance, and take a deep breath. I’m going to need all the oxygen I can get.
    Halfway through practice I stand on my own with my helmet in my hand, trying to catch my breath after a series of scout team plays. A voice startles me.
    —You’ll get used to it. It’ll take a few weeks but you’ll get used to it. No one realizes how bad the altitude change is until they get here. I’m Mike.
    Mike Leach: the team’s long snapper and a backup tight end, a New Jersey kid and a standout tight end and punter at William & Mary. Coaches often say that the more you can do, the better. Mike took that to heart and learned how to throw a two-handed spiral backward, between his legs, while looking upside down. Thirteen years later and he still has a job in the NFL.
    —Hey. I’m Nate.
    —Nice to meet you. Just get in last night?
    —Yeah.
    —Man they got rid of that guy quick. You’ll like it here, though. Coach takes good care of us. Let me know if you have any questions about anything. I know how it is arriving in the middle of camp.
    A fter practice the media want to talk to me. Strange. The 49ers media didn’t care about the bottom of the roster. The Denver media, I’ll learn, care about the whole team.
    Adam Schefter, Denver’s number one Broncos antagonist, sidles up to me.
    —Now, do you know about the history of your number?
    —My number? Fourteen?
    —Yes.
    —No.
    —Well, the last two guys to wear it didn’t turn out so good around here. Some think it’s cursed. Are you concerned about that?
    —I am now.
    Not only did last night’s number 14 disappear like a ghost in the night, but the guy who wore it before him was a dirty word in Denver: Brian Griese. Griese took over for John Elway after Elway won two Super Bowls, dropped the mic at the fifty-yard line, and galloped into the sunset on a white horse. His residue still shines on all things Denver. His name is everywhere: in the newspapers, on the backs of children, on the lips of every talk radio personality in the area, and, of course, on car dealerships. In the three years since he retired, the Broncos have struggled to find his replacement. How do you replace a legend? You don’t. But in the NFL, you fucking better! Griese didn’t measure up so it was off with his head. Before it stopped rolling, Coach Shanahan signed highly esteemed free agent Jake Plummer, who arrived from Arizona in the off-season. My neophytic opinion after day one is that the locker room has obviously accepted him. Plummer’s the guy, part of the crew: no seams or cracks. I want to be a part of it, too.
    I change into my new Broncos sweats and realize what was missing in San Francisco. The guys here are enjoying their work. The locker room is lively and loose. Everyone is friends: white guys, black guys, all guys. I didn’t realize it at the time, but that was Mike Shanahan’s doing. He brought in good personalities, not just good football players. Shannon Sharpe, All-Pro tight end (whom Shanahan had converted from receiver) is a boisterous locker room presence and a beast on the field. His voice carries through the locker room and the laughs follow in his wake.
    And the leadership gives every meeting a