# May 30, 2016
#-1. Oahu, Hawaii
#-2. Honolulu, Kahuku CDP
#-3. Kahuku High School
#-4. Football Field
The training time we were notified of on Saturday was 9:00 AM. I didn't expect everyone to be gathered already—specifically, the upperclassmen. The veterans were huddled in a tight circle on one side of the field.
From the center of the huddle, a single voice boomed:
"Ko Wai Matou?" (Who are we?)
To which everyone else roared in response:
"Kaipāhua Kura!" (Red Raiders!)
Ah, the Haka. This must be the real welcoming ceremony for the freshmen. The chant repeated twice more. Then, the third time:
"KO! WAI! MATOU?!!"
The voices exploded in volume. "KAIPÃHUA! KURA-!!"
Now it was getting serious. The seniors slowly turned around.
The leader shouted: "EKE- AKE-!!" (Wake up! Seize it!)
The rest responded: "HI!!" (Yes!!)
This phrase was repeated five times. Next, they began to shout in rhythm with synchronized movements—aggressive and warlike.
"KEI TE PAPA PAKANGA-!!"
"HE IWI KOTAHI!!"
"MO NGA IWI WHANUI!!"
"TANGATA KAIRAKAU!!"
My fellow freshmen looked completely overwhelmed by the minute-long Haka. But at the same time, they couldn't hide their excitement. I could feel their desire to be in that circle, to be part of that tribe.
To be honest, my blood was boiling a little, too. I wanted to move right now. The Kahuku Haka ended just as it began:
"Ko Wai Matou?"
"Kaipāhua Kura HI--!"
It was a chant about who they are, the battlefield, the things they must protect, and their pride. When the Haka—filled with the spirit of how they must fight—ended, a guy with a thick head of curly hair walked toward us.
I remembered him. Huamatu. The one who picked a fight with me back in March.
"From now on!! You are Red Raiders!!"
"...."
"Acting like little girls ends today! If you want to keep doing that, stay where you are; otherwise, turn around and crawl back to your holes! Well? Do you have what it takes?!"
Naturally, no one turned around.
Fuamatu turned back, and four other seniors approached, carrying plates of red dye. They began smearing the dye on our faces—another Hawaiian tradition. The senior who painted my face looked at me and said:
"You are one of us now."
"Oorah."
After the intense welcoming ceremony, the head coach and assistants appeared.
"Welcome!"
Next was self-introduction time. We stated our names in front of the seniors. Soon, it was my turn.
"My name is Dwayne Moi Stone! I'm from Paia, Maui, and my intended position is Quarterback! This is my first time on a football team, but as an islander, I'll get the job done properly!"
I'm glad the atmosphere was more welcoming than before. It seems my refusal to back down in March paid off.
The real training began with running. We started by doing laps around the field. A football field is a standard size: 120 yards (109.7m) long and 53.3 yards (48.7m) wide. Since the 10-yard end zones occupy both ends, almost all play happens within the 100 yards between them.
From above, it looks like a barbecue grill, which is why fans and players sometimes call the field the Gridiron. We even joke about "getting grilled" out there. Well, we did in my past life; I'm not sure if they do here.
"Moi! Maiava! You two follow me! Cam! You too."
Coach Travis called the three of us to one side of the field. These were the team's quarterbacks for the season.
Hmm—positional training already? It felt a bit early for that.
"Cam? Introduce yourself to these guys first." "Hi. Nice to meet you."
CameronRenaud, the speaker, was the senior quarterback. After the introductions, the coach handed us large binders. Sol-Jay looked flustered, but I broke into a wide grin.
Finally! I received the Playbook.
"The sooner you learn this, the faster our training will progress."
"Oorah."
A playbook contains every offensive strategy of the team. A quarterback must know it inside and out. It varies by team, but by NFL standards, there are usually between 80 and 130 offensive plays. More isn't always better, but a coach with a weak playbook doesn't last long. In my past life, I used exactly 126.
The quarterbacks under me worked themselves to death, but in exchange, they all achieved massive success. Quarterbacks who played for the New York Jets under my tenure were always highly valued in the free-agent market. One backup received an offer of over $20 million a year, while my starter, Ryan Patton, hit a $55 million-a-year jackpot.
I had a knack for training quarterbacks. So, a high school playbook with 87 plays? Memorizing this would be a walk in the park.
"Alright. Put those down for a moment and follow me."
"Yes, sir."
Next came the core positional drills. The content wasn't much different from my past life. Coach John Moss, who was in charge of the quarterbacks, assumed I was a total novice and tried to teach me from scratch. I appreciated the sentiment, but I didn't want to waste time.
"Moi, throwing long is important, but—"
"It's more important to throw accurately?" I finished.
"Exactly. Haha. But to throw accurately, you need to—"
"Keep my head still."
"...How did you know that?"
"I studied ahead. A lot. Like, a lot."
I immediately showed off my knowledge. This was the only way to speed things up. To convince the surprised coach, I decided to elaborate.
"The quarterback is the position that creates scores, but it's also the position that can allow a fatal counterattack. That's why some say not losing the ball is more important than scoring a touchdown."
"...And why is not losing the ball so important?"
"Because the offensive team is the one on the field. If we lose it, the defense has to stay out there tired."
"Wow. Correct. You really have studied."
The reason a steady head is vital is because of the helmet. Wearing one narrows your field of vision; if your head is constantly moving, you can't scan the field properly. If you hesitate and get sacked, or throw a pick? Your value as a quarterback drops instantly.
"We still have to drill, though, right?"
"Of course."
On day one, my training focused entirely on head stability. I had to grip the ball tight with both hands and follow several specific rules. Sol-Jay struggled and had to do push-ups a few times. I, of course, was perfect. I used to give these demonstrations as a coach. This was the absolute basics for me.
Whistle!
"That's enough! Everyone, gather up!"
Wait, already? 120 minutes went by that fast? I felt like I hadn't even started, but training time was over.
"Don't forget your playbook," I reminded Sol-Jay.
"Oh, right."
I waited for him and then headed toward the head coach.
"Everyone finished the first day well without overdoing it."
"...."
"Organize the gear properly. And Moi?" "Oorah!"
"Haha. Follow me."
I quickly followed Coach Travis. He seemed concerned about how my first day went.
"So, how was your first day?"
"I enjoyed it."
"...I heard you were called to the warehouse last week?"
"Yes. That was fun in its own way, too."
"No trouble or anything like that?"
Well, it could have been considered hazing, I suppose—if I didn't have the memories of a middle-aged man.
"None at all."
At my bright smile, the coach looked slightly surprised but patted my shoulder, relieved.
"If anything happens, make sure to tell me first."
"I will. Can I go now?"
"Yes."
"Oorah!"
I headed back to find my fellow freshmen. Ah, there they are. But...
"Hey, you."
"Yeah?"
Someone roughly my size walked up to me. It was one of the "henchmen" from before. That meant he was a Huamatu. The middle brother? The youngest? The one who led the Haka was definitely the eldest.
"Change your clothes and come to the back of the warehouse."
"Sure. I'll be there."
I wonder what he thought of my "cool" response. He looked a bit taken aback. This made me want to bet on him being the youngest. Not that it mattered.
"Where are you going?" Marcus asked.
"Go on ahead. I have somewhere to stop by." "Okay. See you tomorrow."
"Yep!"
After parting with the freshmen, I headed to the back of the warehouse. One, two, three... about seventeen guys? In the middle, someone was sitting on a chair. I remembered his name: Sioele. He really thinks he's the king of this place. A chair? Really?
"You. The fake Samoan."
"...."
Starting right off with "fake Samoan." I noticed it before, but his attitude is trash. I ignored him. One of Sioele's eyebrows shot up. I ignored that too.
Honestly... they were just so cute. Why all the scowling? When I was in high school in my past life, the seniors were terrifying, but looking at them now, they were just kids.
Sioele, trying to flex his power, and his two brothers beside him—they were just little boys trapped in a small world, thinking it was everything.
It was almost pathetic.
"Where are you looking?! Look at me!"
"...."
"Listen well. No matter how great you think you are, it doesn't change the fact that you're a fake Samoan. Do you understand what that means?"
"I don't know. Not really."
"What?!"
Sioele stood up from his chair, clearly offended by my nonchalant shrug.
"Don't get cocky! You're a freshman!"
"And the team's starting quarterback."
"!"
Sioele flinched at the mention of "starting quarterback." I grinned, showing my teeth. I knew it wasn't a friendly smile. I felt like a predator baring its fangs.
As I said before: being a quarterback is a privilege. Especially in school. They can't just mess with me.
"You can call me a fake Samoan if you want. But you can't tell my family how to feel about their heritage. And you know what? This is really childish. Did you think gathering seventeen big guys would make me scared? If so, you read me wrong. I'm a Stone. A proud Stone."
"...."
"I assume these are the defensive linemen. The starters, right? Well, I look forward to working with you. You guys need to block so the offense can shine. It was nice meeting you. Bye."
As I turned to walk away, Sioele shouted again. Good grief, man.
"They aren't all defensive linemen!"
"What?"
"Loto Huamatu! my brother! He's on the offensive line! He's a Center! Do you know what that means?!"
I know. It means he's the one protecting me. So What?
"Are you saying he'll let people through on purpose?"
"Why? You think he won't?"
"No. He could. But here's the thing."
"?"
"If he lets people through at the level of our division, he's never getting into a good college. And if he lets people through in a big game? He'll be known as a coward who choked. So, let them through or not, do whatever you want. Aloha."
I'm sure he was fuming, but I didn't stick around to see his face. It was pretty satisfying. "Fake Samoan"? Please. Want to bet on when you'll finally acknowledge me?
I have no intention of bowing down to get on their good side. They're mostly on the defensive team anyway. One was on offense, but I'd already planted the seed of doubt.
"He's right, you know," I heard a voice say behind me.
"Loto!"
"What? It's true. If I get beat in the division, I'm not getting into a mainland college. And I don't want to be the reason we lose in the playoffs. I think we should just play football the right way."
"Shut up!"
There would definitely be some internal conflict now. I'd wasted enough time. Now it was time to study. I needed to memorize those plays. I wondered if the library was still open; it'd be better than studying at home.
Ah, there was Tamati, the guard who brought me the pie.
"Excuse me!!"
A few minutes later, I had the keys to the library in my hand.
# June 3, 2016
#-4. Library
It was already Thursday. The Huamatus had been quiet, and I was getting along well with the other freshmen. After training, we'd go to a burger joint near the school, eat, chat, and then head home. Afterward, I'd always hit the library. I was almost done memorizing the playbook.
Now, I was looking at other things—specifically, the game logs and tactical notes from previous seasons. By looking at how they scored, I could understand the team's tactical identity.
Center-oriented? Bold, or maybe just a sign of the talent gap. Kahuku High is an undisputed powerhouse in the Hawaii division. A year without an undefeated streak is considered a failure. However, on a national level, they usually rank around the Top 16 because the quarterback's limitations were always clear.
From that perspective, a center-oriented attack made sense. Long passes to the sidelines were probably too risky. But it must have been frustrating for the wide receivers.
A Wide Receiver (WR) is a position where two or three players are deployed on offense. They usually line up on the edges and catch passes to move the ball downfield. They score the most touchdowns, and to catch a fast, high pass while running requires elite physical ability. They might not be noticed much during the game, but they steal the spotlight the moment they score.
And the position that makes that possible is the quarterback. That's why quarterbacks and wide receivers are usually best friends. Occasionally they are enemies, but that's rare.
Anyway, our team has two great wide receivers. It feels like a waste not to use them, but with the current tactics...
"Sigh. Is it inevitable?"
A great quarterback diversifies a team's tactics. No sane coach would use a diamond-cutting blade just to peel an apple. It all came down to me proving it—proving that I could make the team better.
Being a coach and finding hidden talent was great, but the feeling I'm getting now is much more visceral.
This is thrilling.
[2016/17 Kahuku High School Academic Calendar Announcement – Kahuku High School Homepage @ July 20, 2016]