The room was alive with excited whispers as Jackson returned from the balcony. Everyone focused on the stage, even as most bent towards the nearest ear. Questions spread as fast as rumours.
'How do you make a tournament with fifty teams?' 'You think there'll be seeding? What'll they do for that?' 'What's with the mystery and teasing? I wish he'd get on with it.' Came from the adults. The kids were focused on who they wanted to beat.
'I can't wait to bitch out that Skywalker motherfucker.' 'When we knock out the Longhorns, we'll be the best.' 'Let me shut up that arrogant little bitch Tyrese.' 'Them Cobras ain't got shit on us.'
Frowning, Jackson scanned the room and found his dad. He did his best not to disturb anyone else as he shuffled through the crowd and joined his dad's side.
'There you are, Jackie. Just in time to hear the tournament's format.'
That's what the excitement was about. Jackson turned his attention to the stage as well. The announcer was letting everyone's anticipation build, letting the whispers and chatter play out and the questions repeat, growing into something larger. He cleared his throat and leaned into the mic again.
'I'm sure you have many questions. First, let me explain how the tournament will work. It will be single elimination, of course. Once you lose, that's it; no more chances. You and your State will be known as weak.' He smirked, sure that sentiment would rile them up; people loved proving their home was superior to their neighbours. Inferiority was ego-death.
'Next, of course, there are fifty teams entering this tournament. You can hardly make a balanced tournament with all fifty teams playing in the first round. So, there will only be forty-eight teams who participate in the first round. Two teams will have byes and skip all the way to the quarter-finals.'
The announcer stepped back, as smug as ever, as questions and outrage took over the room. Those two teams would skip HALF of the tournament. Such an advantage would be seen as unfair, but such is life. The question on everyone's mind was who those teams would be.
Jackson couldn't help but fixate on the injustice of the situation. Even if they picked teams from a hat, leaving it all to chance, whichever teams were pulled would still have a completely unearned advantage over all forty-eight other teams.
The announcer let them stew in their curiosity before he turned to the shrouded object behind him. He gripped one corner of the sheet and then turned to the mic. 'Now, when this tournament takes place again next season.' He paused, knowing they'd need to chew on the fact another tournament was already planned regardless of this one's success; of course this one WAS going to succeed, it was a sure thing. 'Deciding which two teams get this bye will be much easier, as it'll go to both states that made the final, regardless if different schools are representing said states. As for this tournament …'
He yanked the sheet off with a flourish and stood aside. The revealed magnetic board was quite expansive. A half-foot taller than him, its width rivalled a car's length. The empty brackets for each round of the tournament were on display, and in the quarterfinals, two teams already filled either end.
First was the South Miami Cobras. Cameras flashed and voices raised. Those celebrating were drowned out by the angry shouts from forty-eight other teams. But the Cobras weren't the only ones receiving glares from their rivals. At the other end of the bracket sat the nameplate for the Gordon Longhorns.
'This is bullshit.' 'Why's it them up there?' 'We're better than them.' 'Prolly bribed these fuckers.' 'Or sucked some dick to get those spots.' 'Gonna fuckin' kill them boys.'
Jackson looked around the room. Both the Cobras and the Longhorns weren't hard to spot, you just had to follow everyone's glare. The Cobras stood with their heads high, shoulders back, and chests thrust out, defiance in their eyes as they invited challenge. They looked ready to defend their bye right then if only someone would step up to the plate.
The Longhorns, conversely, reacted with indifference. Maybe they already knew this result. Maybe it didn't matter. You'd have had an easier time reading a brick wall's expression than Kentavious Jr's; Senior had a grin as big as a billboard.
'Please be assured,' the announcer said, 'that these teams were selected after THOROUGH consideration. Based on all the analytics, throughout the regular season all the way to their State championships, they were the two best teams in the nation.'
Questions flew in from reporters and scouts. Even coaches of other teams raised complaints. The announcer wet his lips and raised his hands. 'Please, please. There will be time for questions after the rest of the teams are announced.'
A giant, upturned top-hat, like one a stereotypical magician would wear, was wheeled onto the stage; it looked like the rest of the tournament's format would be chosen randomly.
'Let's find out the first round matchups, shall we?' the announcer said, reaching into the hat.
The first team he pulled was the Desert Christian Eagles. Jackson couldn't help but think that could've been the Titans instead. The Eagles were placed at the top of the bracket.
'Now to find out who will face our Arizona representatives.' The announcer reached back into the hand, rummaging around for a few seconds before he pulled the next team out. Jackson cringed at the part of him that felt relief the Titans hadn't made it.
'Our first matchup in the National tournament—Arizona's Desert Christian Eagles, versus California's Dominguez Dons.'
The result hardly excited Ty, nor did it distract from the disappointment that Kentavious and the Longhorns were so far away. Watching the Dons' magnet get placed just under the Eagles, Ty realised the Longhorns were even further away than first thought. The Dons sat at the top of the bracket, and all the way along in the quarterfinals, the Longhorns sat at the bottom.
Ty scoffed. Even when—not if—the Dons made the quarterfinals, they wouldn't face the Longhorns. No, the earliest Ty would face Kentavious was all the way in the final; the Cobras were waiting for them in the quarterfinals.
He hardly paid attention to the rest of the announcements. All that interested him was which other teams would end up in his path; who else would be their stepping stones leading towards Kentavious and the Longhorns.
Once the top half of the bracket was filled, Ty laughed. If everyone were as good as they imagined themselves to be, he'd end up facing the other strongest Receivers on his journey to the final. The Westfield Shamrocks and Jeremiah Byrd, even Elliot Wall and the Neville Tigers, were in the top half of the bracket.
Ty wouldn't have had it any other way. He'd take down the best and prove to everyone he was the greatest. He zoned out for the second half of the bracket, thinking back to the few times the Dons and Eagles had crossed paths.
Even on a closer inspection of those two instances, nothing else jumped out at him. The Samoan, that was the only one who'd stood out. Donte had said he made the All-American defence, OLB. He was the offence's problem. But if the Eagles didn't have any offensive stars of their own, it was going to be an easy shutout for the Dons.
Eventually the bracket was filled out, and all first round matchups were decided. The floor was given over to reporters and coaches for questions. The first one on most people's minds was how it had been decided that the Cobras and the Longhorns were the two best teams in the country.
'Oho, I'm glad you asked,' the announcer said, looking as proud as if it had all been his work. 'You see, a great deal of effort went into it. I assure you, the best statisticians looked over all fifty teams, and compared them. The Cobras and the Longhorns are offensive powerhouses, and both had the widest margin of victory across all games, with the most points put up, and most yards gained. Defensively they stand out too, of course, but really, their offences are the stars of the show. Both are led by exceptional athletes without equal. Colby Jenkins is easily the best Quarterback in high school, and his talent helps elevate an already strong receiving corps. But—speaking of strong Receivers—Kentavious Rice Jr. he's peerless. He's the engine that has made the Longhorns the most potent offence in the country.'
Ty's expression curdled the longer the announcer rambled on. He couldn't help but agree with his teammates' comments of "glazing". It was sickening, and, more importantly, WRONG. Peerless? Unstoppable offences? All because they hadn't faced HIM. If anyone was without equal, it was him. He pushed through the crowd to the stage before climbing up next to the announcer.
Everything stopped as Ty faced the crowd. The announcer stared at him, mouth opening and closing soundlessly; he looked like a fish. Everyone was staring.
'I'm Tyrese Samuels. If you don't already know, I'm the star of the Dominguez Dons.' He peeled his nametag off and held it up, tearing it in half. 'Burn this face into your heads.' He grinned, black eyes gleaming. 'No matter what you've heard before tonight, no matter what anyone else says here, the Dons are the strongest team in the world. We're the ones who'll win this tournament. It's already decided, everyone else might as well not show up.' He scanned the crowd. Most of the other boys glared up at him. His grin widened as he stared down at them, meeting eyes with as many as he could. 'You're all just stepping stones for me. I'll prove that I'm the best and lock you ALL up.' He pulled on his chain, brandishing the padlock that hung at the end.'And WHEN I face Kentavious Rice in the final, I'll lock him up, too.'
Ty found Kentavious in the crowd. There was fire in his golden eyes; Ty was sure its reflection filled his. 'Everyone else standing between me and my destiny,' Ty continued, 'is just an insignificant bug, not worth my time or re—'
Ty's legs were yanked out from under him. He crashed onto the hardwood stage, air rushing out of him, and then he was tumbling down further, pulled straight to the floor. Richaun Howard stood over him. The snarling boy pounced, fist flying down to connect with Ty's jaw.
'You gonna squash me!? Hell nah, nigga. You the fuckin' bug!'
Richaun whaled on Ty, who covered up as best he could, fists raining upon him. There was a loud crunch, and the punches suddenly stopped.
Stephen towered over Ty and Richaun, holding the Cobra against the stage, slamming meaty fists into Richaun's ribs. Richaun fought back, and the two struggled for leverage. Ty quickly scrambled away. The moment he was back on his feet, someone shoved him aside. Another Cobra rushed to Richaun's aid. Ty moved to stop them, but Deshaun beat him to it.
Ty whirled around as a hand landed on his shoulder. A punch went wide as Donte tackled the Cobra. Chaos had erupted, and Ty found himself in the middle of it. No-one else was near except for Cobras and Dons. Another Cobra lunged for Ty. He slapped their punch away and shoved them off. They tripped over, and Ty might've lost his balance as well if not for the stage against his back.
Someone was pulling Stephen away from Richaun, and Richaun was struggling to get out of Stephen's grasp. Ty's long arm flicked out. His fist slammed into Richaun's face, landing right on his nose with a satisfying crack.
Richaun staggered back, clutching his nose. Ty could already see blood spilling out of it. He lunged forward to press the attack, to send a message that he and the Dons wouldn't be fucked with. Large arms wrapped around him like a seatbelt, stopping him dead in his tracks.
Ty writhed and threw an elbow back into sturdy ribs cushioned with fat. He squirmed around and all his fighting ceased as he saw the adult face grimacing down at him. Just as fast as the brawl had started, it ended as security moved in to separate the fighting boys, pulling them apart and dragging them away.
Cameras flashed. All eyes were on the boys being forcefully escorted out of the room. Ty stared back at the shocked faces. Insults were shouted across the rooms as Dons and Cobras were kept separate and taken through opposing doors. Ty laughed.
It was too absurd. But it was good. The Cobras were mentally weak. They wouldn't survive when they had to share the same field with the Dons.
'You see that?!' Ty screamed. 'He's scared! He knows he can't win on the field, so he has to fight off it! You should ALL be scared! I'm the best! And I'm gonna prove it by destroying each and every one of you!' Kentavious was watching, face still a mask aside from the raging fire in his eyes. 'You're no different, Skywalker! I'll save you for last, but I'll enjoy taking you out the most. NOBODY can survive Tyrese Samuels!'
The door swung shut as Ty was still laughing. The man dragging him didn't let him go until he was all the way outside.
Kentavious Rice Jr. shared the backseat of a luxurious Rolls Royce Phantom with his father. The drive was silent as they headed towards the airport, where a private jet awaited. Kentavious Senior wore an extremely satisfied smile as he sipped whisky from a glass and scrolled through social media. The news from the gala, and of course, the fight involving the Dons and the Cobras had already gone viral.
'That went better than I imagined,' Senior said. 'Who knew that boy could be such a fire starter? We could've just sat back and watched him set the noose around his own neck.'
Junior winced. 'Do you even hear yourself?'
Senior sighed but didn't look up from his phone. 'You disapprove, Junior?'
'You already know the answer.'
Silence crept back in. Father and son may as well have been sitting on other sides of a plane already.
'Why him?' Junior eventually asked.
Senior laughed. 'Were we not at the same party tonight? A personality like that comes along rarely, but it elevates a star to be remembered greater than they truly were. Think of Ochocinco or Terrell Owens, Richard Sherman—greats but they'd be forgotten without their theatrics. Besides, he met all the criteria.'
'What if he's not as good as you think he is?'
'Of course he's good. My sources have kept a close eye on all your peers. Sierra Canyon was a strong team. Everyone expected them to emerge from California … but this Samuels, he's strong. Of course, he's not in the same league as you—nobody is.'
'What if he doesn't make it?' That question had been nagging at the back of Junior's mind since he saw the Dons get pulled out of the hat second. 'Won't all your propaganda be wasted if he loses before then?'
'Not at all. Whoever beats him will do so through the effort of their star Receiver. That team will continue to have high-scoring shootouts, winning off the back of their star. If they're defeated, it's because another star Receiver was so good they could outshine the Receiver who bested the strongest Corner in the tournament. Such a chain will continue until it reaches you, where you'll double or triple their accomplishments. You'll be greater than the strongest Corner by a power of ten at that point. And that's only IF this young Samuels doesn't live up to the hype. If he and that pitiful team somehow make it to the final, you'll have the honour of breaking the unbreakable, and the first part of your legend will be born. No matter what happens to Samuels and the Dons, their fate is already sealed. They're nothing but a footnote in the first chapter of your story, Junior. Best not to waste any thought on them.'
Junior's stomach twisted itself into knots as he listened to his father's insane spiel. Those were people he was talking about. Kids his own age. He was talking about them as if they were pawns on a chessboard. Less even, more expendable than even pawns.
'Those boys you're talking about, they're someone's sons, brothers. They have families and dreams too, just like anyone else, and you'll crush them before they can even see a glimmer of light. And for what?' But Junior knew why. It was all so he could look better, look like the crown prince of football, a saviour. The best Receiver to have the name Rice. 'They could grow up to be the greatest… you won't even give them the chance.'
Senior shifted in his seat, turning to face his son. 'Junior, they could be great. I'm sure they would be. They could have many All-Pro selections in their future, maybe even a Super Bowl or two amongst them. But you're SPECIAL, Junior. You're going to change how we view football. You'll be the Greatest Of All Time. Not just the best Wide Receiver, but the greatest to grace the field. When your career is over, after all the accolades and championships you claim, everyone will realise just how overrated Quarterbacks are. Why is the conversation for Greatest Of All Time strictly between the likes of Marino, Brady, and Mahomes? No, you'll be so much better than all of them. The only conversation after you will be about second best.'
Junior shuddered. He couldn't match his father's gaze for long; it reminded him that despite all those words, all that praise, he was still a pawn in his father's game, too. Fireworks popped in the distance, bathing the city of sin in a kaleidoscope of colour, unheard inside the car.
Junior watched the lights melt away and burst forth again and again. Stars that shone brightly, and lasted only seconds. Another chill rushed through him when he realised how much that reminded him of Tyrese.
'Can we visit Mother?'
Senior's silence was an answer Junior was all too familiar with.