Athens, Georgia
Daniel, a scout from the University of Georgia (UGA), watched the screen with his arms crossed.
On his monitor, the clip that had set Twitter on fire kept playing: Andrew Pritchett-Tucker, speaking calmly, saying that "the whole country is going to be able to watch the beatdown live."
The clip had already surpassed a million views and, for Daniel, the controversy was almost irrelevant. What really mattered were the numbers.
In the corner of the screen, an updated ESPN graphic showed Andrew's stats.
ESPN, Rivals, 247Sports, they all confirmed it: what he had done at Palisades and at Dana Hills wasn't a fluke. Now he was repeating it at the highest level of high school football.
The worst, or the best, part was that the kid seemed to enjoy the spotlight. The ESPNU interview, a full ten minutes in prime time, had cemented that Andrew wasn't just a phenomenon on the field, he was one off it too.
Daniel knew that even college players at Georgia didn't get this kind of media buzz. Of course, that was partly because of his video game, like stats and partly thanks to his YouTube channel.
After watching the interview that same night, Daniel immediately scheduled a meeting with the head coach and the offensive coordinator for the next morning.
That Wednesday morning, before they arrived, he had already set up the room with multiple screens displaying stats, recruiting charts, and even clips of the interview.
Mark Richt walked in first, calm as always. His red Georgia polo and unhurried stride gave him an air of quiet authority. Behind him came Jeff Whitman, the offensive coordinator, walking fast, with an intense expression, as if he already knew what he was about to see would confirm his suspicions.
Daniel greeted them with a firm handshake, straight to the point: "In August I told you he was a unicorn. Today… he's a unicorn with wings."
"Give me his numbers," said Mark, crossing his arms.
As head coach of an elite college team, Mark followed a strict routine, he didn't obsessively track the stats of every promising prospect.
Still, ever since Daniel had shown him Andrew's profile after Dana Hills, he remembered him clearly and had a high opinion, just like Daniel.
Daniel pressed the remote, and the updated graphic appeared on the screen:
Andrew Pritchett-Tucker — Mater Dei, Junior QB
23 TD / 1 INT
~1,650 passing yards
5 official games (2 friendly matches + 3 in Trinity League)
Average: 4.6 touchdowns per game
Mark tilted his head, incredulous. "More than four touchdowns per game… and over three hundred passing yards a game."
"Exactly," Daniel replied. "Not Barkley, not Leinart, not Rosen, not any other big name from Mater Dei or another powerhouse did something like this in their first five games. And if we add the 41 touchdowns from Dana Hills in the summer… we're talking more than sixty in less than three months."
There was a brief silence. On one of the screens, a 50-yard pass from Andrew against JSerra replayed in slow motion.
Mark interlaced his fingers and rested his chin on them, thoughtful. "And the interview? I heard it went pretty viral," he asked calmly.
Daniel smirked slightly, aware of the storm it had caused. "I watched it three times. He wasn't arrogant. He was honest, maybe too honest. He said UCLA treated him better than USC. And then, that slip about the 'beatdown live.' He's becoming more famous than Jimmy Clausen in media buzz, but his stats and titles back it up."
Andrew's showcase wasn't just numbers that no other QB had. He also had 7 titles. Six with Palisades: 2x league, 2x section/regional championships, and 2x state championships. Then 1x with Dana Hills.
Among them were multiple MVPs in every final and tournament he played; awards as best player in his division while at Palisades, and more.
And without a doubt, he was already the favorite to win the Trinity League MVP. Even if his pace slowed against Bosco and Servite, which would be normal, since those two were the toughest in the Trinity, he was still the frontrunner.
Jeff let out a short laugh. "A 16-year-old kid that the whole country is talking about..."
"Exactly," Daniel added. "And it's not just media noise. Every play reinforces the narrative. Every stat confirms it."
Mark leaned back in his chair, thoughtful. "The timing is bad for us," he said calmly. "He's in California. The Pac-10 has the edge. USC and UCLA have him right within reach. And now that ESPN put him in prime time… everyone's going to want him, though he must already have offers from other conferences like ours, right?"
"Yes," Daniel replied. "Since August we've been sending letters and emails, as the rules allow. His family knows: Georgia is in the picture. But now the game has changed. They're going to push harder, especially UCLA and USC. However, what he said in the interview gives us breathing room: he doesn't care about currents or dynasties. And that's our advantage."
Mark nodded slowly. Georgia, despite being an elite and respected program, wasn't seen as a dynasty on the level of Alabama or USC. Their last national championship had been more than thirty years ago. Always competitive, always present, but not dominating the SEC in the past decade. That, paradoxically, put them in the perfect position to attract someone like Andrew: a kid who wasn't looking to follow dynasties.
Finally, Mark spoke calmly but decisively. "We can't offer him an official visit yet, the rules are clear. But I want letters every week, constant follow-up calls, presence without being intrusive. Let him know we've got him on our radar, that we're paying attention. And as soon as the official visit window opens, I want him in Athens. I want him to see Sanford Stadium with his own eyes."
Daniel nodded immediately. That was exactly what he had planned. "Agreed. That's exactly what I was aiming for."
Mark seemed ready to move on to the next point, but Daniel stopped him with something he had saved for the end.
"There's one more thing. I'm going to travel to California to watch the Bosco game."
Jeff looked at him, surprised. "You're really flying all the way out there?"
Daniel held both of their gazes.
"Yes. The rules allow me to be in the stadium, though I can't have prolonged contact with him. Just a few words after the game, nothing more. But if Andrew sees I crossed the country to watch him, he'll know Georgia doesn't speak into the void."
Mark considered it for only a second before nodding slowly. "Do it. If a kid like him deserves a gesture, that's the one."
Jeff smiled faintly. "Well, Daniel, you'd better bring an extra notebook. Because that Friday you'll be witnessing history live, probably one of the hottest, most-watched high school games in recent times."
Daniel allowed himself a restrained smile. That was true.
…
Tuscaloosa, Alabama
The morning was overcast in Tuscaloosa, and inside a meeting room there was a certain tension in the air.
Chris Bailey, one of the program's top recruiters, had his hands resting on the table while multiple screens played different highlights of Andrew, clips of his interview, and more.
Chris projected Andrew's updated ESPN stats onto the big screen.
There was no noise in the room, only the faint hum of the projectors.
Nick Saban sat at the head, unflinching as a rock. His white polo with the crimson "A" was perfectly pressed. His cold stare evaluated every piece of data without a word. Beside him, offensive coordinator Jim McElwain tapped his fingers on the table.
"This kid is… different," Chris began, breaking the silence. "We already knew it after the summer tournament at Dana Hills, but now he's doing it in the toughest league in the country. Twenty-three touchdowns in five games. Not a shred of exaggeration, no padded system, it's Mater Dei. Every throw is backed up on film."
Jim let out a low whistle, incredulous. "Four and a half per game in the Trinity… I can't remember any high school player ever doing that."
Chris nodded. "And it's not just on the field. The ESPNU interview blew up on social media. His YouTube channel has over two million subscribers. He speaks like a pro, acts like one, and he's generating more media buzz than most current college quarterbacks."
Nick leaned his elbows on the table, fingers interlaced in front of his mouth. His voice came out low, without needing to raise it: "Have we contacted him yet?"
"Just one formal letter, three weeks ago, nothing more. So far USC, UCLA, Georgia, Arkansas, and Oregon have been more active, according to my sources. We've got him marked as a priority, but we didn't want to rush and bombard him with letters or faxes."
Saban gave the faintest nod, almost imperceptible. "Then we need to move seriously."
"Yes. If he keeps this pace, he'll be the top prospect at any position in the country. In our system and with our defense, he'd be pivotal."
Silence reclaimed the room for a moment. Alabama was fresh off a championship in January, with a Nick Saban consolidating what most were beginning to see as the foundation of a modern college dynasty. The mere idea of adding a kid like Andrew to that machine was tempting.
Finally, Saban spoke, his tone firm like an order: "I want letters every week. Scheduled calls. Respectful follow-up, without overstepping. When the time for official visits comes, I want him in Tuscaloosa. I want him to see Bryant-Denny Stadium full, and to understand what it means to play here."
McElwain cracked a faint smile. "The kid said he's not drawn to currents or dynasties… Well, we'll just have to show him Alabama isn't a current or a dynasty. Alabama is the standard."
Chris nodded, scribbling notes quickly. "And I'll be going to watch him against Bosco this Friday. We can't talk to him beyond a brief hello, but if he knows a recruiter from Alabama crossed the country just to see him play, the message will be clear."
Saban fixed him with a sharp look, the hint of a smirk. "Good. Do it."
But Alabama and Georgia weren't the only ones who had sounded the alarm. Andrew's interview on Recruiting Nation Live had spread like wildfire, and his name was now on the lips of every recruiting office in the country. SEC powerhouses like Florida and LSU were already at work, preparing letters, calls, and even sending staff to the Bosco game.
Even in the Big Ten, historic programs hungry to return to the spotlight were drawing up strategies to enter the race.
The battle for Andrew Pritchett-Tucker was no longer about sending letters and the occasional email. It had become a true national race, and his senior year hadn't even begun yet.
...
Bellflower, California – St. John Bosco Training Field
Thursday, October 9, 2010 – 3:45 p.m.
The afternoon sun bore down on Bosco's campus, but the air felt heavier for another reason: Andrew Pritchett-Tucker's interview had been burning through ESPN, Rivals, 247Sports, Twitter, YouTube, sports forums, newspapers, and more for two days straight.
"The whole country is going to be able to watch the beatdown live."."
That phrase had reached every corner of the school. The hallways buzzed with whispers, and even the teachers had heard it.
On the football field, the St. John Bosco Braves gathered around their coaching staff. Jason Negro, the head coach who had taken over just a year earlier, stared at them with a deep frown, his navy cap pulled low over his eyes. He didn't need to raise his voice for everyone to know what he was thinking: he was furious.
"'Beatdown live?'" he repeated, slamming the marker against the board. "That's what he said on ESPN? In front of the whole country?"
A murmur rippled through the team. Some clenched their fists, others looked away.
"I want you to burn it into your minds," Jason continued. "No one mocks this program and walks away calmly. No one. On Friday, every play, every block, every hit… we remind him of that."
The defensive coordinator jumped in immediately, his tone harsher: "Our defense isn't like the ones he faced at Palisades. And a real game is nothing like a 7-on-7. This is Bosco. If that kid wants to hand us a beatdown live, he first has to survive four quarters with you."
The linebackers roared in response, banging helmets together. The defense was fired up.
In the stands, a dozen students, who normally didn't bother showing up to practice, had come just to watch. Some held up makeshift signs with messages like "Go Bosco" and "Defense Wins Championships." The news that ESPN would be broadcasting the game nationwide had turned practice into a spectacle of its own.
Bosco's starting quarterback, Chris, tightened the straps on his helmet as he chewed gum with barely contained anger.
"That guy thinks he's special because he's got a YouTube channel," he muttered to a teammate. "I want to see his face after we flush him out of the pocket ten times."
Chris still carried the sting of the lost final at Dana Hills. He had thrown 5 TDs in that game, but Andrew had put up 6 and taken the win.
Andrew had also stolen the tournament MVP that would've been his in any other year, except Andrew had shown up.
On defense, Braves captain Aiden "Tank" Johnson, a 220-pound linebacker, slammed his gloves against his shoulder pads with force.
"On Friday, we're shutting the YouTube guy up. Let the whole country watch," he growled.
He still remembered the brief clash he'd had with Andrew at Dana Hills, and it hadn't gone well at all, Andrew hadn't missed a single throw and hung 6 TDs on them.
Jason raised his hand to silence the team. "Listen. This isn't just about you. The whole school is watching. The whole state, no… the whole country. Now it's personal. This guy doesn't just want to beat us, he wants to humiliate us in front of all of America."
At that moment, a roar erupted from the fence line.
The players glanced at each other, fueled by the energy.
Suddenly, what was meant to be just another practice had turned into a rehearsal for war.
The offensive coordinator, aware of the pressure, drilled with the receivers and quarterbacks.
Meanwhile, on the defensive line, the coaches hammered their players through brutally intense drills. Every tackle sounded harder, louder, as if they were already hitting Andrew.
A student shouted from the bleachers: "Put him on the ground Friday!"
Jason stood at midfield, watching it all. Deep down, he knew Andrew was extraordinary talent.
He'd seen what Andrew did to them with Dana Hills, he'd seen what he'd done in three league games with Mater Dei. But he also knew pressure could break even the best.
And on Friday, in front of the whole country, Bosco didn't just want to win.
They wanted to be the defense that shut up the kid who dared to call one of the league's most anticipated matchups a "beatdown."
...
Santa Ana, California – Mater Dei Training Field
That same Thursday, but later, the sun dipped behind the bleachers as the final drills wrapped up on Mater Dei's field. The players gathered helmets and pads, exhausted after nearly two hours of practice.
On the sideline, Bruce and Rick, watched closely as practice came to an end.
The head coach stood with his arms crossed and a faint smile on his face, something unusual for him, though becoming more frequent since Andrew's arrival.
"You know what's funny, Bruce?" Rick said quietly, almost as if thinking out loud. "Everyone's talking about Andrew because of that one line. Portals, scouts, newspapers, social media… but what I see here is different."
Bruce nodded seriously, his eyes following Andrew, who was still out on the field throwing extra passes to a couple of receivers.
"Yes. That line was a slip. We know him well enough to know he didn't say it out of arrogance. It was pure honesty, nothing more. And the truth is, his work ethic backs it up."
"I've been working here with you for more than five years, and I've never seen anything like this…" Rick commented after a few seconds of silence.
"Same here. I've been head coach here for over twenty years," Bruce said with a nostalgic look.
He had been named Mater Dei's head coach in December of 1988.
"I coached kids who became legends: Leinart, Blanton, Brennan, Barkley recently… And still, I've never seen anyone like Andrew. This kid doesn't make mistakes. And if he does, they're minimal, and he corrects them instantly."
Rick nodded slowly. He knew Bruce wasn't one to hand out compliments lightly.
Leinart had blown up at USC, where he would win a Heisman and two national championships, but at Mater Dei he hadn't had the kind of media attention that now surrounded Andrew. His senior season had been excellent: 2,970 yards, 29 touchdowns, a 9-3 record, and a section semifinal run, but nothing comparable to the current hurricane.
Barkley, on the other hand, had been a phenomenon in high school: records shattered, constant press coverage, and the label of the next great QB.
At USC he was already the starting quarterback as a freshman, something almost unheard of in the program's history. His hype was enormous heading into his second year at USC despite the sanctions they were under.
Even so, some analysts doubted his NFL projection, since they didn't see an elite arm or the mobility of a Cam Newton.
Bruce, however, saw major differences in Andrew compared to Barkley, Leinart, or any other QB he had coached.
In him, he saw the complete package: ideal physique, flawless technique, football IQ, and the way he read coverages and made decisions. He looked like he had been playing college football for years.
In over twenty years at Mater Dei, he had never had three league games so easy to win.
"And this week, he's even more locked in. Since Monday, even before the interview dropped, he's looked different. More intense. Not a single mistake in drills, flawless…" Rick said.
Bruce nodded, watching Andrew throw another perfect 40-yard strike. "It's like everything that happened on ESPN just flipped his switch even more into competition mode."
Andrew, unaware of the conversation Bruce and Rick were having about his level, finished the set of throws with Victor and Sedric.
'Time for a shower and heading home…' he thought, as he exchanged high-fives with both.
Tomorrow was the day.
He hadn't planned for one slip of the tongue to create such a media storm. Did it bother him? Not at all. The only thing that mattered to him was keeping his word.
Since Monday, even before the interview went public, he had been one hundred percent focused on practice. He had just broken up with Pippa on Sunday, and to keep from thinking about it, he threw himself completely into football.
The media chaos didn't distract him, it helped him channel the energy.
Besides, he couldn't afford to lose. Not after what he said, and after letting ESPN broadcast it.
He valued how Mater Dei had backed him. Bruce didn't scold him for the remark; on the contrary, the very next day he gave him a pat on the back and made it clear they weren't going to lose, that this was their year. The rest of the staff did the same.
His teammates had also taken it in stride. No one was upset about the added pressure, they used it as fuel. Even the defense, with Kevin as leader, was more fired up than ever.
Everyone wanted to help him make sure he didn't fall short in front of the entire country. He was no longer just the team's quarterback: he was their leader.
Even the students at Mater Dei, in the hallways after class or during lunch, were more enthusiastic and prouder than ever, turning "the beatdown" into a slogan for the game.
Another thing Andrew appreciated about the staff and about Bruce was that they never pressured him about recruiting or USC, despite Bruce's historic ties to that university, nor did they act disappointed when Andrew said he currently preferred UCLA.
They were Mater Dei, and he was one of them. It didn't matter if you wanted to go to a college other than USC; it was a free country.
After practice, Andrew went to the locker room, showered quickly, changed, and said goodbye to the staff.
Along with Victor, Nick, and a few other guys, he headed toward the parking lot.
He spotted his Camaro, everyone at school knew it, too flashy, especially for the record-breaking QB.
But someone was leaning against one of the car doors. A girl with her arms crossed, smiling as she chatted with two other girls.
Andrew recognized her instantly: Madison, the cheerleading captain.
She was there with two friends, all wearing the same red-and-white jackets as they laughed together.
The three looked fresh out of their own practice: damp hair, backpacks slung over their shoulders, uniforms immaculate. It wasn't unusual, the Mater Dei cheer squad trained every day alongside the football team, usually wrapping up around the same time.
Madison looked up, saw him, and her smile widened. She pushed off the Camaro's body and, with confident steps, walked toward him.
"Well, well…" she said playfully once close enough. "Here he is, the guy the whole country's talking about."
Victor and Nick exchanged a knowing grin, while the rest of the guys chuckled under their breath before waving goodbye to Andrew.
Andrew raised an eyebrow slightly. He wasn't too surprised that Madison had approached him, but it wasn't something he was seeking either.
'Shouldn't have ended the relationship on Facebook…' he thought with a grimace he forced himself to hide. It had only been four days since he broke up with Pippa.
He didn't want, nor could he, think about another relationship right now, even if it was something more "casual."
Andrew knew that Madison, and probably the entire school, knew about the breakup with Pippa because of one culprit: Facebook. His profile was public, and he accepted friend requests from classmates, teammates, even cheerleaders he interacted with on game days.
On Facebook, his status had shown he was in a relationship with Pippa, but now both had removed it, and each had unfriended the other.
And of course, every gossip at school noticed.
He also noticed that Madison had started approaching him differently since Monday, unlike previous weeks when she'd kept it respectful.
"Hey, Madison. Girls," Andrew greeted.
Victor raised his hands in farewell. "Well, bro, I'm out. See you, Nick. Ladies."
He gave Andrew a conspiratorial wink and walked off toward his car.
Nick, however, stayed, he didn't have much of a choice. Since Andrew usually gave him a ride home, he leaned casually against the Camaro, arms crossed, wearing the faint smirk of a professional gossip.
"Since you promised a beatdown to Bosco on national television…" Madison said, raising an eyebrow seriously, "we're going to do the same from the sidelines. Right, girls?"
"Yes!" the other two exclaimed in unison, throwing their hands up with enthusiasm.
Andrew blinked for a moment, curious. "Bosco has cheerleaders? It's an all-boys school."
Madison nodded, amused. "Yeah, but their cheerleaders are from St. Joseph, the sister school. And trust me, we're not about to let them outshine us tomorrow."
Although the game was officially Bosco's home match, it would be played in a neutral stadium due to the magnitude of the event: a nearby venue with a capacity of 10,000. Bosco, however, would still get the larger share of ticketing and benefits, as if it were their home field.
Madison clasped her hands behind her back, leaning slightly toward him.
"And another thing…" she said in a playful tone, "are you coming to the party after the beatdown? It'll be at Jessica's place, starting at ten."
She said it with confidence, as if Mater Dei's victory was already written. Of course, being teenagers, the party would happen either way.
Andrew studied her closely. It was obvious Madison was interested in him. And yes, she was very pretty: she had a touch of Megan Fox about her, which was ironic, given she was standing right next to his yellow Camaro, bought precisely because of his love for Transformers. Straight black hair, blue eyes… not identical, but the resemblance was there.
Andrew shook his head and replied without trying to sound curt, "No, thanks. I'd rather rest after the game."
"Oh, come on…" Madison insisted, tilting her head slightly, "you always say no. One time wouldn't kill you."
Andrew took a deep breath, smiled, and answered calmly, "Fine, I'll go to a party… but only once we're champions."
Madison looked at him with a mix of surprise and amusement. Then she smirked and stepped a little closer. "Then it's a promise. And you'd better not break your word, Pritchett."
Andrew held her gaze. "I won't."
In truth, he had already thought about it before: he'd go to a party if they managed to become champions. A way to relax, celebrate with everyone, and at the same time not always be the guy who turned down every invitation from his new schoolmates.
Madison gave him one last confident smile before waving goodbye and walking off with her friends.
Andrew opened the Camaro's door, and just as he was about to get in, Nick couldn't hold back.
"Bro… it's obvious Madison's into you. They say she's really picky and doesn't go for just anyone. Her parents have a lot of money, if you know what I mean. You should take advantage, best way to get over a breakup is jumping into another relationship."
Andrew shot him a sidelong glance and kept to himself the thought that this was the worst advice he'd ever heard.
"Get in the car or I'll leave you behind."
Nick burst out laughing and slid into the passenger seat. Andrew started the engine, the Camaro's roar echoing through the parking lot.
He dropped Nick off, about ten minutes out of the way, and then headed home.
Finally, game day arrived.
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