The crowd's roar was deafening.
If you sat in one place for too long the vibrations from the mob's raucous energy made your jaw shutter and your skin crawl. Their desperation and feverish desire for victory was palpable.
I smirked as I glanced into the stands.
It almost makes me feel a little bad when it's time to crush their dreams.
The quarterback surveyed the field, "Blue 42, Blue 42."
The center's body tensed as he prepared to snap the ball.
"Red 80!"
I stared at the guard in front of me and his fingers were barely grazing the turf. His weight was shifted back on his heels and his eyes darted back and forth as they scanned our defense for any additional threats. I had taken advantage of his bad technique all game by utilizing finesse moves.
But now it was 3rd and 10.
15 seconds left.
No timeouts.
I'm going for the jugular.
"Red 80, Hut!"
I exploded out of my stance directly up field. He fervently shuffled back to beat me to the set point, and I raced forward, giving him what he wanted.
POW!
I swiftly planted my foot, blasted my hands into his chest, and drove him within inches of the quarterback. He hunkered down to stop my bull rush, but I quickly ripped through his up-field shoulder and grabbed the quarterback. He tried to wrestle free from my grasp, but I pulled him in and slammed him to the ground with vicious force.
My mind went blank as I leapt with a zeal that I thought was long dead to me. I pointed two fingers into the air to thank God for finally allowing this to happen. Our sideline rushed the field as our opponents scrambled to run one last play as the clock hit 0:00. My teammates swarmed me with such ferocity that I couldn't see, think, or react. I was absorbed by the mass of joyful human beings.
Thank you, Lord. We're almost free.
My mind washed away.
The celebration raged on for the remainder of the night.
I started dressing for interviews in the locker room after the post-game festivities.
My teammate, Connor, stumbled over to me, "Dude, that shit was incredible! You were like whoosh, and he was like OH NO, and then the quarterback was like, AHHHH! It was like amazing dude; you've got to come party at Robbie's place after this. The hoes are gonna be all over you tonight!"
"Thanks…but that's not really my scene. I'm probably just going to chill over at my parents' place. I hope you guys have a great time though."
He continued shouting despite there only being a few feet between us in an empty locker room, "Your parent's place? Hell no! There ain't no hoes at your parents' place! I respect your religion bro, I really do, but this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! You're practically famous at this point and all you can eat is on me! We're getting you laid tonight for sure! I bet I could find us a couple extra girls and we could have like a foursome or something!"
Right on cue the homie Micah yelled, "James! Come on! They need us for interviews in like 2 minutes!"
I glanced back at Connor, "Maybe another time bro…and only if I was somebody else." I yelled back as I sprinted out of the locker room, "Don't let that stop you guys from having a good time though!"
I raced into the team meeting room and slid into my seat on stage as the reporters snapped to attention, "James, this time last year you had played less than 40 snaps of college football. Now you're the Heisman favorite and a national sensation. What has been the catalyst for your sudden success?"
I smiled, "First off, I would like to give all the praise and glory to God. He made this happen and all of this is a blessing, and a dream come true. I'm just grateful that He chose me and that He's given me this talent and opportunity to be successful..." I paused as I tried to come up with an answer that wouldn't spoil the mood, "…but to answer your question, I would have to say it's the work me and my teammates put in during the offseason preparing for the year, you know? I really wanted to step up in a leadership role this season to help me and my teammates grow as men, along with reaching our performance goals. By God's grace, I think we have been able to do that so far."
What I wanted to say was, "I would have won two or three Heisman's by now if I wasn't at this sorry ass school with these sorry ass coaches. Ask this pathetic excuse for a coaching staff why they didn't play their best player for the last six years. I'm sure they'll have a great answer for you..."
My head snapped up as Micah tapped me on the leg, "I'm sorry, could you repeat that question sir?" I said as I struggled to hold onto my composure.
The reporter laughed, "Getting a little sleepy up there are we super star? What inspired and motivated you to keep working hard throughout all the years that this program was struggling?"
"My primary motivation is to bring God glory from my performance and inspire others to accomplish their dreams. I also really want to repay my family for all they have contributed and sacrificed for me through the years, especially my father. He means the world to me. I live in constant awe of his example in the way he came up from nothing, lived a Godly life, started a family, and created a legacy. I want to take it to the next level and carry on that legacy to help change the world. I am looking forward to having an opportunity to play professionally because I would like to use the resources and platform that I would receive to help set up systems to help people in need and provide the knowledge and resources I wish I had growing up."
The questions droned on for hours until Micah and I finally reached the serenity of my car on an empty highway.
We bobbed our heads and gestured wildly as we passionately rapped in unison to one of our favorite Christian rap songs, Honest2God by Andy Mineo, "I must be doing something right to get this opposition! Meanin' I should go the hardest when I feel like quitting! Lord, kill me if I ever start mixing personal ambition and call it a righteous mission…"
PFFFFT!
Micah let out a gruesome fart that completely killed the vibe.
I shook my head, "Dude. For real?"
He shrugged, "What?! You ate that postgame burrito they gave us just like I did! Don't act like you've never farted before! I remember when you were trying to talk to that one girl and…"
I held up a hand, "How about we let the past die. Let's focus on the future, which includes the fact that we only have a few more games left until we can finally declare for the pros and leave this terrible institution!"
"The past never dies but amen to that! I don't want to inflate that big head of yours, but that sack to end the game was pretty epic. That's some stuff out of a sports anime right there."
"You're the one who can't stuff his dusty ass dreads into his 2x helmet, but thanks." I stared at the shimmering stars glimmering above us in the night sky, "Yeah, that was pretty cool. I've never had a walk off sack before."
He laughed, "Maybe now you'll have enough clout to slide into Miami or Vegas' dm's now. I'll help you type out your messages as usual…"
I rolled my eyes, "Ha. Ha. Ha. Says the person who told his last girl that he was leaving her if she got too chunky. No wonder she left you…"
"I believe honesty is the best policy…"
"And now you're relying on me to help you write your dm's to Christian Instagram models who never respond…"
"Look. It's a team effort. At least I'm not one of those incels who keep disappearing! You'll probably be next at this rate!"
"Never that! But that stuff is weird as hell. They said this guy named Troy from my class just up and vanished a few weeks ago. Whatever boogey monster is snapping up men between 14-35 needs to leave your ass alone! I'd hate to see you disappear a few weeks before I get picked higher than you in the draft…"
"Nonsense. Who's gonna pick a defensive tackle over a 6'3, 250-pound linebacker running a 4.3? You may bench 500 pounds and all, but you're still 5'11. Maybe that's why you can't get a date…"
I glared, "I'll let that low blow slide for your sake. Actually, I won't. Maybe your dad will finally come back once he sees you get drafted behind a super handsome, 6'0 tall Heisman winning defensive tackle…"
"I'm gonna kick your ass one day…"
"That's what they all say before they realize they won't be waking up from a punch with 500 pounds of force behind it. But anyway, to answer the original question before your words devolved into cap…Nah, I'll wait until after I'm drafted and established and everything to dm Vegas. Even if one of those girls did hit me back, I probably wouldn't have time to date this spring with all the combine training and the last of my PHD work. This is gonna be my first girlfriend and I want to make sure I do things the right way..."
His prompting caused something primal to rise from deep inside my lower gut. It was a mixture of relief, fear, yearning, and excitement at the thought of finally having a girlfriend. I had longed for this since I was little, and it just seemed unreal to think I was finally so close. I couldn't wait to have a partner to give my all for and do life with.
I've been rejected so many times…Nobody has ever wanted me, but now I should finally have a shot…
He stared at a football stadium in the distance through our window, "Yeah, I feel that…you know, I'm glad we won, but it's almost assured now that this sorry coaching staff will get an extension. We'll be long gone, but I feel bad for the younger guys that we'll be leaving behind." He shook his head, "I hate those bastards. It almost makes me feel like we're fighting for the wrong side by succeeding..."
I sighed, "Same. I can't stand thinking about the fact that they'll suffer through more years of this, but I don't really know what we can do about it right now. Nobody deserves this hell..."
He balled his fists, "And there's no escaping it for them. The way they prop up people like Connor who do nothing but drag this team down while people like Benjamin and KJ are shunned makes my blood boil. And the fact that people like him don't give a damn about helping the young guys is even worse. All he cares about is NIL, and all these coaches care about is securing their next contract." His green eyes shimmered in the moonlight, "I just wish there was something we could do to put these bastards in their place before…"
If I wasn't so tired I'd be right there with him. But I'm the one who usually talks like this. Micah never gets this angry…
I laughed and raised an eyebrow, "You good bro? This is the kind of talk that got you kicked off the team our freshman year. All that talk about injustice and slavery. I'm surprised they let you back on the team…"
Micah crossed his arms, "Sometimes you have to die to grow, you know? But I was right though and look what happened. Things changed, and athletes get paid now. Now we just need reparations and a way to punish the corrupt coaches…"
He's still as crazy as ever…
I chuckled, "Look. I hate them as much as anybody, but we just have to keep our heads down and help out who we can along the way." I bumped his shoulder, "One day when we're coaching, we'll do away with all of this corruption and run things God's way." I smiled, "And you had better not be calling no sorry plays like you do in Madden! My defense can't give up 50 points a game like you do!"
He chuckled, "Please! I'm always eleven steps ahead of your ass on Madden! You haven't beat me yet!" He dabbed me up with our signature move, "But yeah, I'm straight. You know I act out of character sometimes when my youngins are mistreated." He smiled, "I'm just glad that there are still a couple good ones like us who are still trying to do things the right way."
"Facts, but enough depressing talk about things we can't control. Have you seen the latest Hero Kids episode?!" I asked excitedly.
He pulled out his phone, "Nah! But plug your nose really quick and then let me see what they're talking about!"
I rolled down the windows, "You had better not…"
The music stopped as my phone rang. Joy filled my soul as I saw who was calling.
"HOW'S IT GOING SUPERSTAR?!" My dad proudly exclaimed.
"It's going pretty good. Micah and I are just chopping it up on the way home."
"Did y'all talk about the fact that y'all are both going to the league in a few months?!"
"Yeah, a little bit. We were just talking about anime and stuff like that. This recent season of Hero Kids has been peak!"
"It definitely has, I'm excited to watch it tomorrow after we finish celebrating!" I could hear the joy in his voice, "I know that you know this James, but we are all just so proud of you. I'll still never forget the day that man walked up to us outside the hospital and told us to name you James after we found out your mom was pregnant! To this day I'm convinced he was an angel from God…"
I face palmed. Here we go again…I've heard this story 50,000 times already…
"At that moment I just knew you were going to be special and now look at you! After all of those hard years of turmoil, God has answered our prayers and you're about to accomplish your dreams! It's all going to be worth it, and I'm so proud of how much you've grown since you got to college! I can't wait to see all of the incredible things that he is going to do with your life! Nothing gets me more excited!"
I smiled.
I'm glad I've finally been able to live up to it.
He continued, "And I've got even more good news to add to your stellar performance. I think we finally found your cousin!"
"That's amazing! I can't wait to finally see him again! Hopefully we can get along well after all this time!"
"Yeah, I'm sure you will. You two were thick as thieves back in the day. Y'all would always fight, and somebody would end up bleeding, but you always made up. You two looked just the same back then and y'all always cried your eyes out when it was time to leave." He sighed, "It's a shame they ended up moving away and got into that accident."
I barely even remember him. Hasn't it been like 20 years since they found auntie's body? They still haven't found the rest of my uncle's family's remains after their house burned down. I know dad still wants to cling to hope that they're out there somewhere, but he should probably give it up at this point. I just don't want to be the one to break his heart by saying it. Especially after we lost grandma a few years ago…
I swallowed, "Yeah…it is, I'm sure we would have grown up to be best friends. Are you still planning on adopting him once you make sure it's him?"
"Yep, he'll be taking your room because you'll be off to the league soon! Hopefully we can be good influences and help get rid of some of the tendencies that I know my brother probably instilled in him."
"Yeah…I'm sure we will. Speaking of bad tendencies, did Dominic ever come to the game, or did he flake again?"
"No, but he actually did call this time and tell me that he had work. Maybe he's becoming…a bit…more responsible..."
I rolled my eyes, "He's not, he texted me the day before the game asking for tickets for him and his friend, but didn't give me any of the information that they need to register them. He texted me with the information 5 minutes before kickoff, but what good is that?"
I could hear dad's sheepish grin, "Yeah, he definitely still has some maturing to do."
"He's one of the first people that I want to help once I get drafted and we set up our foundation and business. Hopefully, offering him a good job and being around Christians can help turn his life around."
"I definitely think it can, but people have to make those decisions for themselves. People can't change until they're ready to change. You can tell someone the right things all day long, but until they are ready to accept it for themselves, they're gonna keep doing what they were doing."
"You still have a lot of growing to do yourself!" My mom proclaimed from the background.
I laughed, "Please! I've been more grown and mature than most of the adults on this planet since I was in elementary school, including you!" I responded playfully.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, you had better watch out because I can still drop kick you in your big butt through this phone!" She said.
"I've heard these empty threats for generations and not a single one has ever been acted upon." I said smugly.
"Okay, today might just be that day! You had better watch yourself before you go flying through the roof of this house! Roofers and medical bills are expensive!"
As I was crafting the world's wittiest response my dad said, "She went in the other room. Maybe you can get her back when you get here."
I yelled after her, "Coward!" I smiled, "But anyway, before I was rudely interrupted…It sucks that we missed Mr. Skinner after the game. He's the only one who shows up and he's my trainer, he's not even family! He's always on his exotic vacations, but he still takes the time to come to my games." I glanced at my palm, "My hand still hurts thinking about his handshakes..."
I'm so grateful Mr. Skinner chose to invest in me. If he hadn't seen potential and taken me under his wing in high school, I wouldn't be playing college football today. I remember thinking I was going to die during his training sessions, but those are what made me great, and his support is one of the only things that has kept me going through these past 7 years of hell. I glanced at the sports car that zoomed by me on the road. I can't wait to surprise him with a new Lambo or something after I get drafted. He's always been into fancy cars and electronics. It's the least I could do after he trained me for free all of these years...
"His handshakes are rough. But you know how family can be..." My dad said.
We spent the rest of the drive discussing our future business, sports, and anime.
I pulled into the driveway, and right on cue my dad opened the front door to help me unload my things. Ok, dad's lost some weight! That wide receiver build he bragged to me about is finally showing. I still don't believe he was a twig when he was my age like he always says…
"How do you always know when I get here without me ever telling you?" I asked.
He laughed, "James you're my son, I always know where you're at."
Micah shook his hand, "Good Afternoon Mr. Fos. Thank you for having me for dinner again."
I hate it when he tricks my parents by acting proper like this! And they always fall for it no matter how much of a devil I tell them he is!
"What's up Micah! Great game as usual!" He gestured to my little sister glaring in the doorway, "Your archnemesis is waiting for you as usual."
At least she knows the truth.
Micah dramatically threw off his coat, "Oh, I'm ready for that villain!"
What is wrong with this guy…
He stared my 14-year-old sister down as he approached the house, "Noel…"
Her gaze was even more intense, "Micah…"
"Your hair is even uglier than usual today. I think you set the world record this time."
"And your breath is even hotter than last time you showed up here." She spritzed him with perfume, "I smelled you from down the street and knew I had to come prepared."
"Oh yeah? Well your lips are the dustiest I've ever seen!" I wiped underneath her nose, "Look at this! You've got dust stuck on your top lip!"
POW!
He cried out as she kicked him in the shins, "Don't touch you me you big back! I could tell you've been eating too many burritos! You almost crushed me because your back is bigger than a Baluga whale's big back Micah! You probably need to skip a few meals because at this rate you won't even be able to make it down the field at your next game without causing an earthquake!"
Micah laid in the fetal position as he clutched his shin. He farted as he wiped a tear, "You win…such harsh words for one so young…"
She shouted over him, "Sounds like a skill issue you gassy booty bastard! Don't crack the concrete falling like that or I'm sending you the bill!"
Me and my dad shook our heads as we entered the house, "I'm starting to think he got a few too many concussions growing up…", "That was their most intense battle yet. But who is teaching her this stuff…"
She ran forward and gave me a big hug, "Hey James!"
"Hey Noel! How have you been?"
She held her portable video game console to my face, "Good, but Bond is still angry with me for leaving him in a volcano again."
I smiled, "I bet he is! Wouldn't you be angry if you were left in a volcano for a week?"
"It had to be done though! I had things to do!"
"What could be more important than Bond's safety?! He is the savior of the universe!"
"School! School doesn't care about the savior of the universe!"
"Speaking of school, how was it this week?" I asked.
Our chat continued until my mom threw a pillow at me, "Yall can talk at the table. Your food is getting cold!"
I threw it back, "Hark, I'm surprised you were actually prepared and had something ready for once!"
"Hardy, har, har. I'm always prepared. Besides, we don't have all day to be waiting on you to eat boy!"
My younger brother descended the stairs.
I turned to face him, "Hey. How was your…"
He gave me a slightly aggravated, sideways look, "Hey."
He walked past me toward the table.
I turned to my dad, "Is teenage angst still getting the best of him?"
He chuckled, "Apparently so. At least you got a greeting this time."
We gathered around the dinner table and had an amazing time debating anime as we enjoyed life for the rest of Saturday night.
On Monday morning I woke up for class, still filled with remnants of the weekend's excitement. I listened to a Bible study as I went through my morning routine. As I brushed my teeth, I lifted my shirt to make sure my work-in-progress abs were still there. Thankfully they were. I stepped onto the scale and was disappointed to see 287.
Damn, that's way too much. I'm getting bloated like Noel said about Micah. I've got to stay at 285 or below in the mornings. Looks like I may need to skip breakfast today…
I made sure to grab my silver cross chain this morning. I admired its pristine craftsmanship and the beautiful way it reflects the light. Despite its luster, I typically forget to wear it because my fingers are too big and it's too hard to put on. My favorite Bible verse, Proverbs 4:23, "Guard your heart above all else, for everything you do flows from it", is written on my black cross necklace, and I never forget my silver family ring. The ring was certainly my favorite of the three accessories. It had a cross where a diamond would normally go, and my last name "Fos" was engraved on the inside. I tossed on my standard team issued hoodie and sweatpants as I headed to class.
I walked into the business school and was met with high fives from people all throughout the halls.
"Great game James! You really ruffed those boys up!" A professor said.
He probably doesn't even watch football talking like that…
"Hell yeah James! If you keep this up, you're gonna be the number one pick! Have you seen the latest mock draft?!" A student said as he shoved an iPad in my face.
I smiled deviously inside. Heh, heh, heh! I told Micah that he was projected at number two and that I would be number one. Generational defensive tackles are rare! He's lucky it's a weak quarterback class or his ass would be in the teens!
I eventually made it to class and plopped into my seat.
It's nice to actually have people care that I exist for once…I've never even seen most of them before…
A girl waved as she sat in the row ahead of me, "Hey James! You did your thing out there!"
I blushed. Wow. She's never talked to me before.
I waved back, "Thanks. God is good…"
The teacher pointed with glee, "All the time Mr. Fos! All the time! Especially when you're playing! Amazing performance!" He tapped the whiteboard, "But now let's get to the review session!"
Dang it. He ruined my rizz opportunity.
I spent most of the class reading manga and thinking about the baddie that greeted me earlier. Her name was Lila, right? I think I've seen her at FCA before. I wonder if I should shoot my shot…
An email came through. I read the subject, 'James Fos Loan Balance' and closed it immediately. My heart sank. This is why I'm glad to be going number one. I have to make it so we can pay off all this debt my dad had to take on so that I could have a chance to even go to college. I glared at the football stadium. Even though Micah can be preachy, he is right about them being dicks.I could more than kick their ass for not giving me a scholarship after 7 years…
"And that's it for today! Don't forget that your dissertation checkpoints are on coming up…"
I quickly put away my things. Thank God. I saw Lila and her friends chatting near the entrance. Should I do it… Anxiety coursed through my veins as memories of rejection flooded my mind. I balled my sweaty fists as Micah's jokes from the car came to mind. What's the worst that could happen…right?
I forced down my fear as I approached, "Hey Lila. You go to FCA right?"
"Hey James! Yeah, I do! Last week's message was so inspirational! That guy's testimony was amazing!"
"I know right! I've got at least three pages of notes…"
Her friends pulled at her arm, "Come on Lila! The Starbucks line is gonna be around the corner!"
She waved as they dragged her away, "Coming! Well, it was nice seeing you James…"
My mind raced. Go for the jugular! Go for the jugular! Go for the jugular!
"Wait! Before you go, are you doing anything after FCA next week? Maybe we could grab lunch or something…"
Her face shifted, "Oh. Thanks for the offer but I'm usually pretty busy after FCA! I'll see you there though!"
My face fell, "Oh…alright…"
It's always the same. After I'm drafted a girl has to look my way right…
Her friends chattered down the hall, "Can you believe that dumb jock just shot his shot with Lila?", "He must have lost his mind! They're not even in the same league.", "Guys, stop James is a great guy. He's so sweet! He's like the nicest guy ever…"
I walked away. I get that every time. But they never want to give me a chance...
After class, I drove to the football facility for my customary Monday torture session. I was used to constant rejection so it didn't really bother me, but I could tell this was not going to be a good day for me emotionally because as soon as I crossed the threshold of the building, aggravation bubbled within me. The anger that I knew far too well pulsed in my veins, as I did my best to shove it back into whatever black depths that it came from. I try not to let myself feel this way so I could be as warm and loving as possible to others, but after everything this program had put me through these past seven years it had become almost impossible for me to control it. I could feel the dark cloud over my head as I prepared my equipment for practice and sat down for lunch.
The black cloud spoke from deep within my body as it began its usual droning, "There could be nothing worse than what these people have put us through. When will this torment end? Maybe it is our fault that we're going through this because we misheard God. Maybe we heard Him correctly, but we ruined everything because we failed to do what He said. Maybe the effort that we have given Him wasn't good enough. Maybe we're not talented enough and we've been wasting our lives and suffering for no reason. You are so far behind your peers. You are one of the most talented and blessed people of all time. You received 10 talents, not 1 or 3. How could you be so wasteful with what God has given you? You should have impacted the world by now. You don't want to be a failure, do you? How are you going to repay your father for what he has done for you? He deserves better, doesn't he? How are you going to help those people that you always talk about? How are you ever going to get a girl to like you? You should just…"
"Shh!" I hissed as my friend Camden approached.
"It still amazes me how gigantic your calves are. How is it going Black Hole?! You know that's what they're calling you now right?!"
I picked at my food, "Are they? That's nice..." I forced a smiled, "I'm doing alright man. Definitely just ready to get this day over with and head back to the crib."
I wish I could give him a more upbeat response…but I just don't have it in me today.
"You should be excited! You played a great game Saturday, and your sack was on the Sport Country Top 10!" He said as he excitedly ran his hands through his thick beard.
"Yeah, that is pretty exciting I guess." I sighed, "I'm honestly ready to be out of here and just go to the pros. Y'all boys can hold it down without me."
"Uhh, no we can't! You remember how terrible we were last year. It seems like once you and Micah got in the game, everything just started clicking for our team!"
I wonder why…
"Yeah, I'm glad I could help turn things around here a little bit."
We continued our conversation as we headed into a team weightlifting session, and afterward we proceeded to a pre-practice team meeting.
Our head coach began discussing the game and how much "progress" this team has made in the past seven years. He followed that up by spitting out his same weekly platitudes about how great our team is when we all do our jobs and execute his terrible game plans. He eventually concluded with more pointless jargon like "Our weekly process, the Warrior way, our methods of preparation, cannot and will not change" despite the fact that those things are empirically and fundamentally flawed.
Once his fraudulent speech concluded, we proceeded to position meetings. As usual, my aggravation continued to rise as my position coach meandered through the film of the game while completely ignoring the poor play of the other defensive linemen while emphasizing the most miniscule mistake in my performance. He even skipped good plays of mine to point out the bad ones, while failing to comment on the mistakes that anyone else made. Because of this training, I have become a master of the "in one ear and out the other technique."
We then went out to practice and endured our daily gauntlet of useless drills and verbal degradation. Between our other useless and nonsensical drills that only waste time, our position coach indulged in one of his favorite pastimes of making us push a sled across the practice field until someone puked. The coaches have a tradition of selecting a walk-on to torture throughout his freshman year, and this year's lucky winner was Camden, so after everyone else was cramping from exhaustion, our coach made him push the sled by himself.
Camden wheezed as he leaned against the sled, "Coach…wheeze…wheeze…I…wheeze…can't…"
The coach waved a stick with a football attached to it, "Come on Dropboy! I know you're ready to drop! Just do it! We call you Dropboy for a reason!"
Camden fell to his knees, "Coach…"
SLAM!
I crashed into the sled and picked him up, "Come on Camden! You got this! Don't let him get to you!"
Tears welled in his eyes, "I can't…"
The coach blew his whistle, "Get out of the drill Fos! We aren't moving on until Dropboy hits the floor!"
I balled my fists as I remembered my time as Dropboy. I'm sick of this! He's done this every day since the summer, but Camden is not dropping today! What's the worst that could happen! I'm already going number one! I threw Camden's arm around my shoulder, "You've got this bro! Just keep pushing!"
"Fos! Get off!"
Camden leaned on me, and I strained as we pushed the heavy sled.
"Fos! I won't tell you again!"
I heaved as black dots crept into my vision.
BRAAAAAAAP!
I crumpled to my knees as an air horn sounded. My sore teammates and coach jogged across the field as we transitioned to the next period, "You got saved by the bell Dropboy! But I'd bet my bottom dollar that you'll drop tomorrow!"
Camden sobbed, "Thank you…"
I stumbled to my feet, "Don't mention it. You know I always got your back."
The rest of practice was normal, and we finished with a scrimmage where I effortlessly dominated my competition. It helped to have my customary rage boost induced by my coach's nonsensical antics.
After we finished, my position coach approached me on the way to the locker room, "Man you have gotten so much better J! You were so sorry this time last year that you couldn't even walk and chew gum at the same time but now look at you! You've gone from shit to sugar!" He slapped me on the shoulder and smiled in my face like I was supposed to be enjoying his blatant disrespect.
My fists tightened and an all-encompassing rage rose from the depths of my soul. The fire spread as it coursed through my veins and infected every cell of my body. Its voice called out to me. He's the one who never believed in us. If it wasn't for his incompetence, we would have made it to the professional league years ago and been rich enough to pay off all our family's debts. It's his fault that we are not out somewhere serving and helping others with our professional league resources. It's his fault that our destiny has been delayed! It's his fault that we had to do everything on our own and work so much harder than everyone else! It's his fault that our dreams have been delayed, and we have never had a girlfriend! He's the one who never cared about us! Don't forget what he has done! IT IS HIS FAULT! GIVE HIM WHAT HE DESERVES…
For a moment, I was tempted to do what it wanted
I quickly suppressed its influence, "Thank you coach. I appreciate it."
I swiftly walked away and buried my face in my hands as I sat in my locker. I muttered to myself through ragged breaths as I tried to keep anyone else from noticing, "It's alright…wheeze…It's going to be ok…wheeze...Yes, they are awful, but there is nothing that we can do about it. All…wheeze…we can do is show up and represent Christ the best we can every day…wheeze…These things are out of our control. Wheeze. It's alright. Wheeze. They are not trying to hurt us intentionally. Wheeze. Like Jesus said, they just don't know what they're doing…"
My friend Benjamin approached me with a high five, "Great job today Big J! Only a few more weeks and we are home free!"
I suppressed my panic, "You too Ben. And you're right, the end can't come soon enough."
"I'm glad it's almost done because I'm not sure how much more my mental health can take! Every day I want to kill someone more and more!" Benjamin joked with his patented Caucasian method of dry humor.
"Oh, trust me I know the feeling." I mostly joked, "I'm not sure how much more I can take of this either."
"At least you're going pro after this. I'll be stuck at some boring finance company in the real world." He punched me on the shoulder, "I'm glad you'll get to live out your dreams. When you get up there, go hard for us down here who couldn't make it."
His words filled me with sadness and dismay. Benjamin and I had been good friends since freshman year. We always supported each other and helped each other get through the perpetual doldrums of our tainted collegiate athletic experience.
"Yeah, it seems like our near decade of torment will finally be ending. At least we will have our degrees and good lives." I punched him back, "When I open my foundation, I'll be sure to hire you for our finances. We'll have the best books in the business!" I said as I tried to remove a little bit of the dread we both felt inside.
He smiled, "I'd like that Big J. I'll keep the IRS off our ass."
"Please do. And if they come for us, I'll refer them to the nerdy white guy in the back."
We shared a laugh, and for a moment the world seemed still. I looked out at the locker room as my teammates horsed around and danced to terrible trap music. I sat back in my locker. I promise to make it big for you guys. I'll give it everything I have for you boys, and for the people here before us who went through the same nonsense that we had to endure. I have to make our sacrifice mean something.
I glanced over at Benjamin, "We really made it out man. We've got degrees from one of the best schools in the nation, and we got to be a part of the first good team this school has ever had."
He laughed half-heartedly, "Yeah, but at what cost?"
My heart was heavy, "Good point. How could I forget that you're a finance guy?"
We started changing and the last of our daily post practice conversations were completed.
After midnight, I sat in relatively minor emotional turmoil. The cloud wouldn't shut up as hurt and anger swirled within my belly. As I tried in vain to get some sleep after another long, hard day, my phone rang. It was KJ, another one of my good friends on the team. He was a few grades below me, and I had sort of become his mentor outside of our regular friendship. He often hit me up for relationship advice, tips on getting the best professors for certain classes, and he was a part of the weekly Bible study that I ran for players on our team.
I could hear the tears behind his voice before I could greet him, "I think I'm starting to give up on this football stuff bro. Even though I play, I can tell the coaches don't really mess with me like that. My coach keeps saying that I suck and at this point, I don't even think I'm good enough to make it to the next level."
I quickly sat up, "I understand how you feel bro. I'll never tell you what you should and shouldn't do because that is always between you and God. I just want to let you know that you are a fantastic player, despite what anybody else, including myself, says or thinks about you." I paced back and forth as I spoke passionately, "You are one of the top wide receivers in this country bro, and you have been since you were a pup. God is so proud, and I am so proud of how you have grown and matured over these past three years as a person and as a player. You've been cooking these teams and putting them in your mixtape for years bro! You were All-Conference last year and this year you're an All-American! God has blessed me with a historic season, but I still won't have as many trophies when I'm done as you will! Forget these coaches and focus on God bro! He's the only one whose opinion matters, and he's the only one who can guide you and show you what path you're supposed to be on."
He sniffled, "You're right bro. I just don't know how much more of this team I can take. I honestly want to transfer right now, but I don't want to give up this degree though. An MTCU education is top notch, and I feel like I would be a fool for passing on this degree. Maybe I should just call it quits and focus on my education."
My heart broke for him. "I feel you bro. If you want my advice, all I can tell you is this. We only have a few more games left and then we will have some time off. You should pray and talk to your parents and your other mentors about how you're feeling, and work with them to decide what will be the best path for you. If football is what God has for you, whether it's here or somewhere else everything is going to work out the way He intended. You're only one year away from being able to play in the professional league and then you'll be making the big bucks for yourself and your family. If football isn't for you then I'm positive that things are going to work out great because I know God has a wonderful plan for your life."
"Thank you so much bro, you're so right. Imma hit my people up and see what I should do. I do only have one more year before I can declare. I can't tell you how much I appreciate you."
The following Saturday, we played on senior night in our last contest before our first playoff game in school history. It was late in the 3rd quarter, and we were tied at seventeen with our intercity rival South Texas Central University. We hadn't defeated them in over a decade, and if I was able to perform well here, it would all but ensure that I was drafted in the top five.
On 3rd down and 7, they came out in a passing formation. I lined up over the center, ready to acquire my third sack of the afternoon.
The quarterback locked eyes with me, "OMAHA! OMAHA! LINGO! LINGO!"
I chuckled. Ha! He thinks that's going to matter!
CLAP!
The ball snapped and I exploded from the line as I blasted the center in the chest with my initial move. I was prepared to slap down his inside hand and rip past him for the sack, but I felt the guard's attention shift towards me. My mind whirred. The quarterback changed it to a slide, so I knew he was coming. On film he usually goes for kill shots on defensive tackles because he knows that his center can't handle a nose guard one-on-one.
He blindly charged me with his shoulder, and I parried with my own shoulder. I quickly spun off him, pointed my toe, and bent my path toward the quarterback. His eyes widened with terror, and he sprinted out of the pocket.
Dammit! He's got a step on me, and he's got the angle. He's gonna get a first down at this rate. I leapt out and grasped desperately, hoping to grab anything that could trip him up. My arm grazed his calf, and he stumbled to the ground, sacked.
I leapt to my feet
Oh my God! That's 25!
The scoreboard flashed with, "JAMES FOS! SINGLE SEASON SACK RECORD!"
I pointed two fingers to the sky as ecstasy flooded my veins
Thank you, Lord. You are too good to me. Things could not get any better.
Time slowed and I took in the moment as the crowd chanted my name.
"JAMES FOS! JAMES FOS! JAMES FOS! JAMES FOS! JAMES FOS! JAMES FOS!"
Emotion swelled within me and tears ran down my face.
I've dreamed about this moment since I was little. But I never thought it would actually happen. Especially after these past few years. I just can't even…
CLANG!
Metallic vibrations resonated through every person in the stadium. It rattled deep within our skulls as we clenched our jaws to stop the shuddering. We looked to the sky in unison and saw a brilliant, golden star. It danced as it elegantly glided back and forth across the night sky. Each of its quick, decisive movements were accompanied by a resounding metallic crash.
What the hell?
The star's movements suddenly became jagged and violent.
BOOM!
Before I could react, I was blinded as the light crashed into the ground before me. The sound and force were overwhelming, and I lost consciousness.
Two armored men faced each other on the field. As the crowd recovered from the shockwave, they looked on in awe. One man wore a black, skintight suit fitted with gleaming, lightweight plates. It was outfitted with touches of gold and a silver cape that gently wafted in the breeze. His silver cross chain gleamed under the bright lights. The other wore a high-tech mask and wore a similar suit that sported a hood but lacked flair. His body was also covered in an additional layer of thick, dark, wrappings that shifted with every movement. His black cross necklace dangled in the wind.
They faced each other, blades drawn. When the energy from the stadium's lights touched the caped man's sword, golden energy reverberated throughout the blade. The other's blade was such a deep black that one could lose themselves staring into its depths. It reflected the moonlight with an ominous glow.
The caped man spoke with great zeal, "MAN! This is awesome! I haven't had this much fun sparring in I don't know how long!" He pouted, "It gets kind of boring being an Archigos, you know? It sucks not having anyone strong enough to face you."
The masked man grimaced. This is bad. I've been seen, and the mission is compromised. I doubt I'll be able to escape from him. He gripped his blade. I guess that leaves me no choice.
"Shut your mouth and die! Shadow Craft, Art 1, Spectral Step!"
He vanished instantly.
He swiftly reappeared behind the caped man, his blade inches from severing his neck.
CLANG!
The other man reacted with incomprehensible speed and met the attack head on at the last possible second. The force from the impact knocked the people in the crowd off their feet. Yellow energy exploded from the golden sword and sent his foe crashing into the stands.
CRASH!
The energy wave blasted throughout the stadium, and entire sections collapsed. The dark man's impact from hitting the cement destroyed the area and incited panic in the crowd. They began a raucous riot toward the exits. Screams permeated the air, and the fearful mass of humans began trampling each other to death in hopes of escape.
The man in the dark armor walked through the hole in the concrete and drew his blade. The caped man gawked, "DUDE! You are TOUGH! It's been years since someone survived a hit like that! You must be like Bazek or something! And that dark armor is SO COOL!" He extended his hand, "You know what? We should be friends. My name is Milliard…"
FWOOSH!
Before he could finish his statement, the other man was already upon him.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
Milliard met him blow for blow until his blade eventually erupted with energy once more and sent the other man flying into the stands for a second time.
"Man, you are not a quick learner." Milliard said playfully. He stomped, "Come on bro! New friends shouldn't fight like this! We can talk this over back in the capital, but I really think you should stop before somebody gets seriously injured…"
"Don't speak to me so casually! Shadow Craft, Art 3, Void Doubles!"
Nine copies of the man sprung forth from the shadows and rushed Milliard, bombarding him from every angle. He skillfully met their attacks head on until he began to falter, and the sheer number of blows began overwhelming him. Their blades tore through the unplated areas of his armor and left bloody gashes across his skin.
James laid on the turf and his mind was hazy as he woke up.
Is this…what a concussion feels like…
"AAAAAH!" A cameraman screamed as he bolted past James.
James snapped to attention and saw the battle.
Oh, hell no! That doesn't have anything to do with me!
He moved to escape, "AAAAAAAARGH!"
His left knee had been pierced through by a jagged piece of metal. Even the slightest attempt to shift his leg was met with excruciating pain that instantly drew tears from his eyes.
He desperately looked around as people sprinted past him, "H…Hey! Somebody please help me! Somebody!"
Each person continued their single-minded, frantic escape past him. The stench of iron permeated the air and the turf beneath him was matted in blood. Severed limbs and dismembered torsos covered the field surrounding him near the field's exit. His stomach turned at a foul stench unlike anything he had ever encountered, and he gagged to hold back his vomit. His nausea overwhelmed him, and he puked violently. As he retched, he could not keep his leg still, which caused his cries of pain to be muffled by the sludge that forced its way out of his body.
Once he finally calmed, he looked near his parent's usual seating area to try and pick them out of the crowd. He saw his family as they maneuvered throughout the masses onto the stadium's concourse. His father's calm face stood out amongst the frenzied masses sprinting around him.
James sighed with relief and turned his attention to the men on the field. Milliard was fighting off a swarm of cloaked men with remarkable form and technique. It looked as if he was almost effortlessly repelling blows from every angle when James heard an aggressive cry, "Your time has come!"
Across the field, the man in the black armor held his blade high in the sky. It shone with a pale glow and rattled as it struggled to contain the stored energy, "Shadow Craft, Art 6! Moon's Wrath!"
BOOM!
He pointed his blade directly at Milliard and a beam of milky energy enveloped him, creating an overwhelming explosion that could be seen for miles. Milliard's body was sent flying limply and he crashed through the stands above James. As he barreled through, chunks of rubble broke free.
Time seemed to stop as James stared at the rubble above him. Oh my God…There's no way out of this…
He glanced at the area where he last saw his parents. A large piece of the stands was sliding down toward his family. His mother and siblings screamed as they frantically scrambled away underneath the massive shadows. His father stood still, observing the chaos.
James' rage exploded. What is that idiot doing?! You need to get them to safety! You can't freeze up and be passive at a time like this! His eyes widened. Oh…he must know that there's no escape. I guess he's just facing the end without fear. James smiled in relief as his ring flashed. That's my dad for you...
His attention shifted inward, and he began to mourn. This is so unfair Lord! I have always done what you asked! I suffered for over half a decade in Your name! I did all of this so I could set up systems to help fix this world and bring people to You and this is how You repay me?! There is so much more that I wanted to do…So much more that I wanted to experience…
He sobbed. Was it all…for nothing?
CRASH!
James was crushed to a paste by the falling debris.
Milliard climbed out of a hole in the wall and jumped down next to the rubble that crushed James. His armor was in tatters and blood leaked from every extremity. He raised up from a slumped posture and gave a thumbs up.
He shouted with a beaming smile, "AWESOME move dude! I've never seen Shadow Craft up close before!" He sighed, "But, unfortunately, my dad will probably get mad at me if I waste any more time here. So…I guess I should stop messing around." He touched his toes and stretched his arms, "Alright, but before we start, I'd like to know my new friend's name before I kick his ass."
The masked man snarled, "I am Gray, and that is the last name that you will ever know"
Gray crouched down and rocketed toward Milliard.
Milliard cracked his knuckles, "Gray, huh. That is such a cool name"
He instantly vanished from sight and Gray was shocked as he propelled forward through the air.
POW!
Milliard rematerialized next to him and kicked him downward with otherworldly force. The impact from his body hitting the ground caused the turf field to detach from the earth like a carpet, as the cement splintered and shattered to absorb the blow. Gray's body bounced up from the impact and Milliard cocked back his blade for an even more devastating strike.
CRASH!
Milliard's blade connected with the ground, but Gray was nowhere to be found. Shadows gathered from the corners of the stadium and shifted together to reform Gray's body. He spat blood onto the broken turf and swiftly resumed his offensive. They began a clash of the swords that could only be described as a beautiful chorus of blows. Each side's mastery of hand-to-hand combat and sword techniques was evident as they matched each other's strikes in perfect harmony. After parrying a slash aimed at his head, Milliard flipped his blade to the flat edge and smashed it into the earth. Milliard shouted like an excited child as the energy from the blade erupted and light enveloped the stadium, "Light Craft, Art 2, Flash Bang!"
As the light blinded Gray, Milliard slashed him across the chest, leapt, spun, and devastated his skull with a vicious roundhouse kick that knocked Gray off his feet.
Gray landed on his back and shrieked pain. He glanced at his sword wound. Dammit! Why didn't my armor shift to protect me in time!
"Ah I see. You must be on some kind of mission, and as a result you refuse to converse with your best friend. Allow me to ask. Is whatever goal you're trying to achieve worth the lives that were lost here today?" Milliard said.
Gray stumbled to his feet, "Any cost is worth the peace I fight to establish!"
He glanced at the stadium lights. That must be it, it's too bright here. He sprinted, crouched, and leapt into the highest section of the stands.
Milliard watched from the field and furrowed his brow. Hmm, the base of our armor looks quite similar, but his physical abilities are heightened even without it.
Gray leapt, "Shadow Craft, Art 5, Void Slash!"
Dark energy rocketed from his blade in a wide arc and shattered half of the stadium lights. Gray stood in the shadows as he turned to face the other side of the stadium. Once I destroy those, he's…
Milliard stood intimately close, "Cool strategy. Let's not do that anymore.''
He thrust his sword at Gray, but his blade was enveloped in the wrappings of Gray's armor. Gray flicked his wrist and Milliard's blade was sent flying. It vanished as it was consumed by the shadows of the upper deck.
Milliard smiled, "Interesting! So, it looks like you can…"
POW!
Gray blasted him with a right hook, uppercut, and crashed a vertical kick down on his skull that sent him crashing into the concrete.
"Shadow Craft, Art 7, Seeking Shadows!"
The shadows rose, bared their fangs and devoured Milliard until nothing was left.
Gray glanced at the escaping crowd. This mission was a complete bust. I'm sure the target has escaped by now… He stared at the spot where Milliard had been devoured. At least father will be proud of me for defeating that government wretch. That's a major step toward fixing this corrupt society. Maybe I'll finally get the promotion to the upper ranks that I deserve and…
Gray flinched and covered his eyes as a brilliant light enveloped the stands. Milliard dusted off his tattered armor, "Like I said, this has been fun, but we should really be heading back now."
Gray darted across the stadium. The only way I can defeat him is to destroy the rest of the lights and unleash my Progress Art.
Milliard groped around in the darkness as he looked for his sword.
Gray smirked. Dumbass. He reached the other side of the stadium and raised his blade to destroy the lights. Suddenly, terror gripped his heart, and he swiftly turned his head.
CLANG!
At the last moment, he met Milliard's attack head on and the force from the strike rattled the stadium to its foundations. Gray vanished and reappeared as he dashed up one of the pillars that housed the lights, but Milliard was right on his heels. They clashed, appearing as black and yellow blurs as they darted from pillar to pillar. Gray desperately defended himself from Milliard's onslaught as he attempted to destroy the lights, but Milliard was one step ahead of him and prevented him with ease. Gray's breaths grew ragged as Milliard's smile widened. Their blades collided once more, but Milliard parried and knocked Gray's sword from his grasp with a horizontal slash.
Milliard's blade was enveloped in scarlet energy, "Light Craft, Art 4, Red Light Slash!" He retraced his blade's path, and an arc of red light burst forth. Gray was blinded, and the energy wave blew him into the turf below. Milliard leapt down onto the field.
Gray covered his throbbing eyes as he blindly struggled to his feet. Milliard glanced at Gray's bloody wounds, "You are a great warrior Gray, but your injuries are severe. There is no need to resist any longer. If you come with me now, I promise I will speak to my father about a lesser sentence. I can be very persuasive…"
Gray coughed blood onto the turf and smirked, "You should pay more attention, Archigos".
CRASH!
Milliard turned as he heard glass shatter. The stadium lights blinked out one by one as they were destroyed by a clone of Gray. Milliard crouched down as Gray cleared his throat, "Shadow Craft, Progress Art 1, Eclipse of Darkest Night." He raised his hand and darkness poured out from the depths of his soul. It enveloped the entire stadium as the remaining lights were snuffed out, "Art 3! Void Doubles!" Hundreds of Gray clones leapt out of the shadows and assaulted Milliard from all angles.
As Milliard defended his mind raced. I see, this is a very powerful combination of techniques. The less light in an area, the more powerful his Arts become…This guy is so cool! I need him to accept my friendship so I can introduce him to bro Kalios ASAP! Milliard's knees wobbled as he battled. Man, I really should have eaten something before this. The food in this world is just so greasy. My stomach can barely stand it... He glanced at the Gray swarm. I guess I probably need to do something about this before I get too tired. I still need to lift weights after this…and I bet my fiancé is worried sick… He remembered the stack of unopened wedding documents on his desk. CRAP! She's gonna kill me!
Milliard closed his eyes and channeled his energy into them. He smiled, "This has been so fun Gray! But you've shown your hand and this fight is over! Light Craft, Art 1, Spectrum Vision!"
Milliard's pupils glowed and they became attuned to the kinetic energy given off by each of the clone's movements. He shifted his stance from balanced to staggered, crouched and vanished. He began intercepting the doubles on their path to attack him. He darted from wall to wall in a beam of light as he swiftly picked them off one by one. Gray was terrified. I can barely track him…
CRASH!
Milliard crashed down into the center of the dome and raised his blade, "Here's a tip from your new best bud! My blade isn't the only thing that absorbs kinetic energy. My suit does too! Light Craft, Art 3, Photon Beams!" Powerful rays of light erupted from the plates in Milliard's armor as they pierced the black barrier surrounding them. The beams rotated quickly until the barrier and the stadium were destroyed.
Milliard and Gray stood face to face once more. Both were drenched in blood as they heaved through ragged breaths. Gray succumbed and fell to a knee as he leaned on his blade for support. His mask cracked, revealing a bright, green eye.
Milliard smiled as he leaned on his own blade. He grinned as he gave Gray a thumbs up, "Have no shame friend. You have given your all and fought incredibly well. Your skill is tremendous, and under the proper mentorship you would have no issue winning the Tournament of Champions and becoming an Archigos one day. I would love to have the opportunity to help you reach your full potential. Come with me and I promise you will be pardoned and…".
Tears poured down Gray's face, "NO! NO! NO! NO! Father is counting on me! My family is counting on me! THE ENTIRE WORLD IS COUNTING ON ME! I CANNOT SUCCUMB! I WILL NEVER SUBMIT!"
Milliard's eyes widened as Gray staggered to his feet. Gray's body gave off a milky glow, and silver tendrils danced as they protruded from his body.
Milliard's heart broke, "Please…don't do this Gray, you will leave me no choice but to…"
"I will not fail you, father."
SLICE!
Gray vanished and before Milliard could react, he was sliced in the gut. The force from the blow emitted dark shockwaves that shattered nearby buildings. Milliard was sent soaring into the sky, and he barreled through building after building until he crashed onto the top floor of a nearby skyscraper. He laid on the ground with his arms out, "That was not very fun."
He held his bloody stomach as he staggered to his feet. He limped over to the window and stared out at ruined city blocks. The stadium had been reduced to a smoking pile of rubble and the entire surrounding area was covered in dark smog. His heart sank as he saw hundreds of dead bloodies in the streets and nearby buildings that had been turned to ash filled with gore. How could I have been so careless? So many lives have been lost…for no reason at all. His grief gave way to rage. It's time to end this.
Milliard channeled his power, and his body was enveloped in a crimson aura.
Time seemed to stop.
He vanished and reappeared on the field before Gray.
Gray's eyes widened as Milliard cocked back his blade.
To the victims of this day, forgive me.
CLANG!
Gray met his attack head on, and they engaged in a brutal melee. The tenacity from each of their blows sent black and yellow shockwaves that leveled city blocks for miles. They mixed their various Arts into their sword strokes in a flawless fashion. Their battle was a symphony of passion, bladework and unwavering resolve. The full breadth of their skill was on display as their duel raged on into the night.