# August 31, 2016 #-1. Oahu, Hawaii #-2. Honolulu, Kahuku CDP #-3. Kahuku High School
"Stephanie did what?"
"Exactly what I told you."
"Oh... my God..."
Ms. Maisy Young clutched her head as if a migraine had just hit her. She is the school's AAA—the Athletic Academic Advisor. Her job is to make sure student-athletes don't get benched due to failing grades. She's also our primary bridge between the players and the school, and between academics and sports.
"Sigh—Moi? I'll handle this myself."
"You'll make sure she stays away from me, right?"
"I have to. She might even get kicked off the cheerleading squad for this."
"Don't go that far."
"Are you sure you're okay with that?"
There are guys on the team who get a morale boost just by looking at Stephanie. In a cheerleading squad filled with typical dark-skinned, black-haired Hawaiians, a blonde, fair-skinned girl stands out. And she's just a high schooler. I don't want her to be scarred for life, regardless of how I felt yesterday. As long as she doesn't approach me, that's enough.
Ms. Young thanked me, calling it a "merciful decision."
"Anyway. Did you submit all your essays?"
"Every single one."
"Good job. I wish everyone were more like you."
"If they were, you might lose your job, ma'am." "Haha. I suppose that's true."
"Can I head out now?"
"Yes. I'll make sure the Stephanie situation is taken care of."
I got up from the sofa and walked out. A crowd of friends was waiting nearby.
"Did you turn in your essay?"
"Damn—Bro. I didn't even know we had one." "Then you should just consider yourself fucked."
"Shit."
A lot of football and basketball prospects believe that as long as they're good at sports, their lives are set. But let me tell you—that is absolutely not the case. Currently, there are over a million high school football players in 15,810 schools across America. Only about 81,000 of them secure NCAA scholarships.
And every year, 32 NFL teams play with a 53-man roster, which equals 1,696 players total.
Meaning, the probability of a high school player making it to the NFL is just over 0.1%.
"You really need to study."
"I just need enough to get into college."
"And then what?"
"What, are you my mom or something?"
"Fuck you. Try to look out for a guy and he talks shit."
"Heh heh. See ya later."
It's a shame they neglect their studies, but I guess this is just the normal, everyday reality for teenage athletes. With my assignments finished and the Stephanie drama handled, I went to find Aunt Mel. We grab lunch together about once a week.
Knock
knock.
"Teacher?"
"There's nobody here."
"Haha. Mel, let's go eat!"
"Okay, give me a second."
Aunt Mel has adjusted well to the school. She's highly rated among the freshmen. I was worried she might face prejudice because of me, but she silenced everyone with her skills and sincerity. I'm so proud of her.
"My goodness! Stephanie did that?"
"Yeah, I'm telling you."
"Did you tell the school?"
"Yeah, I told Ms. Young. She said she'd kick her off the squad, but I told her not to."
"That was a very mature decision."
"As always, right?"
Aunt Mel nodded and packed up her lunchbox. I helped her.
"Afternoon classes?"
"None. I'm heading straight to the field."
"Okay. Be careful not to get hurt."
"I will. Talk to you later."
After leaving her, I headed to the field. Today was the last practice before the game. Since there was plenty of time before the 2:30 PM team gathering, I went to find the coach. I knew exactly where he'd be. The QB Room.
Knock
knock.
"Huh? Moi?"
"No class. Can I come in?"
"Of course. Have you eaten?"
"Yeah. Damn! What are you eating, Coach?"
I asked because the plate in front of Coach John Moss was entirely green.
"My cholesterol numbers got bad."
"Is that why your wife packed you that lunch?" "Exactly."
"I told you to cut back on the drinking." "Please. I get enough nagging from my wife." "You deserve a little more."
"Hey!"
I reached out and grabbed a piece of roasted asparagus. While munching on it, I pulled my notebook out of my bag. All the team's offensive plays are already in my head, but I'm looking for ways to make them easier for the others to understand. Even now, half of our practice time is spent with the guys getting scolded. Not me—my teammates.
"What do you think the Head Coach will do the day after tomorrow?"
"Who knows—only Gavin knows that."
"We have two great Running Backs, right?" "We do."
"So why don't we run a DoubleOption?" "Because Gavin doesn't like it."
"Phew—yeah. That's the problem."
We have two competitive RBs in the division, Harmon Brown and Elvis Vakapuna. They're guys who could record over 10 touchdowns a season. In Hawaii, you won't find a team with this level of RB depth outside of St. Louis. But the Head Coach refuses to use plays that utilize both. It's frustrating. An Option Play would be perfect.
"Moi. I know you're talented, but..."
"I know—the team comes first. I get it."
"Haha. Good."
Though I felt a bit of lingering regret, I know how to be content with reality. Coach Moss watched me study my notes with a satisfied look and put a bunch of washed grapes in front of me.
"Eat while you work."
"Thanks."
"No problem. See you later."
Left alone, I focused back on my notes and picked up my pen.
"Left spread, X-block..."
The life of a QB. You can never separate it from studying.
_______
# September 2, 2016
#-1. Oahu, Hawaii
#-2. Honolulu, Kahuku CDP
#-3. Kahuku High School
#-4. Football Field
▷ GAME Kahuku: 00 Campbell: 00
Football is an incredibly masculine sport. I'm not trying to be sexist, but this ball-game really is. Just look at the defense. Right now, they're chanting:
"STOMP 'EM, TEAR 'EM!!"
"STOMP 'EM, TEAR 'EM!!"
"STOMP 'EM, TEAR 'EM!!"
They are literally hyping themselves up to stomp and tear the Campbell offense apart. Defense definitely has that raw charm. On the other hand, the offense...
"I'm the best Running Back."
"Catch. Touchdown. Make the NCAA scouts notice me!"
It's like a collection of selfish individuals. Wide receivers. Running backs. They only think about scoring for themselves. But in football, that's the right attitude. Those are the guys who actually perform.
The Offensive Linemen are usually the "nice" ones. Most of them are cheerful, though they act like they have ADHD. They'll be pulling ridiculous pranks one second and then get dead serious about crushing the opposing Defensive Line the next. It's hard to keep up with them.
Then there's the Quarterback.
"Hit the open gap clearly."
"Identify the weak link."
"Follow the play. Got it? Stick to the plan."
I'm giving instructions until the very last second. While these high school boys are turning into beasts, I have to maintain a cold, calm composure.
"K! A! H! U!..."
Since it's a home game, the cheering is loud. Stephanie has been perfectly ignoring me lately. What a relief. It's exactly what I wanted. During a break, I turned around to find my family in the stands.
Oh. There they are. I saw Grandma and Grandpa next to Aunt Mel. I raised both arms and waved. Dad couldn't make it because he was working. He sent me a "sorry" text, but I understand—a banker can't just take a day off every week. Just knowing he's cheering is enough.
"Alright, everyone huddle up!!"
After each line finished their own rituals, I called the whole team together. Sioele is the captain, but as the QB, I can do this. It's the only position that binds all these strong personalities into one. I thrust my fist into the air.
"Today has to be an easy game! Everyone's family is in those stands—let's not get embarrassed by a team like Campbell. Stay focused! When you see the ball, hunt it down and don't let go! On three, 'Red Raiders'! One, two, three!"
"RED RAIDERS!!"
"RED RAIDERS!!"
My teammates roared, their morale peaking. Between the cheers and the music, I could faintly hear the cheerleaders' chants. The linemen stepped forward to shake hands with the opponents, and soon the coin toss happened at center field.
"Hey, Moi."
"?"
"Let's try a couple of those today."
"You serious, Bro?"
"Hell yeah."
Looking at Sekope, who looked like he was itching for action, I told him to stay ready for my signal. That time came quickly.
1st Quarter, 12:46 remaining.
24 yards to the end zone. 2nd Down.
"Shotgun, Right Spread, G-Delta 45."
"Listen up. Shotgun, Right Spread, G-Delta 45."
"...."
"You got it? Let's go! Let's get some points!"
The team's main formation, the Shotgun. Two wide receivers on the right. They'll split and bolt upon the Snap. The Spread is a very honest description. G-Delta 45 is the O-line formation—the way they protect the Pocket where I stand.
"Green—50!!"
....
"SWITCH JAM!! HUT!!"
Most of my teammates probably heard the words "SwitchJam" for the first time. But since QBs often shout nonsense to confuse the defense, I knew they'd only focus on the "Green 50" I said before. That was exactly what I wanted. Because Switch Jam was...
Whistle—!!
"TOUCHDOWN!!"
"YEAH—!!"
...specifically for Sekope. We just scored a touchdown using a play we practiced in secret. Sekope came sprinting toward me.
"ALL DAY!! ALL DAY!!"
He shouted that he could do this all day as we jumped and collided in mid-air. Having succeeded, we walked proudly back to the bench. Now it's the defense's turn.
"Hey, Moi."
"Yes, Sir."
"What was that just now?"
"It was exactly like your play, Coach. Shotgun, Right Spread. I checked the backs and safety before the snap, and it looked like they were loading up on the right. Sekope happened to be in a good spot, and I felt like a pass to him would score."
"...Right. Good job."
"Oorah."
The coach was just surprised by Sekope's movement. He's a guy who didn't have a single touchdown last year. Kahuku's tactics are focused on the run, which is enough to get to the playoffs, but you hit a wall in the Open Division tournaments. You need a passing game, and for that, the Tight End and Wide Receivers have to step up.
Sekope was sitting on the bench with a massive grin. I walked over.
"I heard you loud and clear when you said 'Switch Jam'."
"How'd it feel?! Huh?!"
"Damn!! It was sick!!"
Shortly after making it 7-0, Sioele broke through the opposing O-line and delivered a massive tackle to the Campbell QB. The QB went down like a limp balloon, and KesiAh-Hoy scooped up the fumble and ran it straight into the end zone.
Another touchdown.
"That's it—!!!"
"You feel that heat?! You feel it?!"
"Damn!! What is happening?"
"Sioele's tackle was beautiful. It was killer." "The guy's got skills, I'll give him that."
If it weren't for the whole Huamatu clan mess, I probably would've been friends with Sioele. He's a defensive lineman with NCAA-level talent. But for now, I had to focus. I shouted at the offense again.
"Is it okay for the defense to have as many touchdowns as us?! Let's show them they don't even belong at the same table!! Let's Go!!"
2nd Quarter, 4:25.
Score: 17-0.
I was aiming for a second touchdown.
"I-Zone West Coast, X-Block."
"Keep it simple. I-Zone West Coast, X-Block." "Let's crush them!"
"That's the spirit. Let's Go!"
Ever since we had to settle for a 3-point field goal earlier because of a receiver's mistake, I kept poking at the offense's pride by comparing them to the defense. If you play your cards right, you can keep their focus at a high level.
This play utilized our position (just 5 yards from the end zone) by using a RB's charge to confuse the defense before looking for a short pass. It's the WestCoastOffense style—a core of modern football.
"23!! Blue 40!!"
The "23" signaled the opponent's defensive formation—Campbell was set up in a 2-3 line. The O-line is too close to the action to see the whole defensive layout, so telling them is the QB's job. The "Blue" was...
"HUT!!"
...the signal that I, the QB, might run. I made that call after reading the defense.
Thump.
The sound of the two lines colliding at the scrimmage line echoed. The moment the RB acted as a Decoy, I saw a linebacker charging from the right. The pocket was no longer safe.
Where to pass? Nowhere.
Campbell's CBs and Safeties were tight on our receivers. A pass would likely be intercepted or incomplete. So, I ran without hesitation. Just like I signaled with "Blue."
Thanks to the X-Block clearing the path, the sides were a bit loose even if the middle was packed. With defenders coming from the right, running left was the obvious move.
The line of scrimmage was at the 5-yard line. I had dropped back about 3 yards. My run started from the 8-yard line and quickly closed the gap. Seeing the defenders abandon the receivers to lung at me, I protected the ball with both arms and dove for the end zone.
Thud! Crunch!
Whenever you collide with a defender on a football field, you hear something crunch. I know it's just the protective gear, but sometimes I imagine my bones would've snapped if I were unprotected. But I'm as big as most linemen. A CB or Safety can't stop me. Two of them tackled me at once, but I overpowered them and carried the ball across the line.
Touchdown.
"THIS IS WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!! THIS IS IT!!"
"Did you see that?! That's Dwayne Moi Stone!!"
As my teammates bragged about my name to the opposing team, I stood up and brushed the dirt off my shoulders. I looked down at the fallen defenders.
"Light."
"?!"
A blatant provocation. The kid on the ground looked seriously pissed. I winked at him to drive it home, then turned and shouted:
"EKE— AKE—!!" (Stay awake. Hunt.)
My teammates responded: "HI!!" (We will!)
Fueled by the team's Haka and the high morale, the offense ran back to the bench. Ah—this is it. Moments like this...
"I really feel alive, man."
"Heh heh heh."
Right here, right now, I want to shout that I'm alive.
_______
※ Football Terminology: Snap: The act of the center passing the ball to the quarterback to start a play.