Undefeated team

September 29, 2009

Palisades High School – Home Stadium

The clock read 7:42, and the game was in its final quarter.

The stadium lights poured down onto the field. The scoreboard showed a lead for Palisades, but not the blowout they were used to. 34 to 21. Comfortable enough.

From the sidelines, the school band's drums pounded like a steady heartbeat. The home crowd was cheering, though now their voices had quieted, they were watching closely, waiting.

Andrew lined up behind the center, eyes locked in, body low. His clear voice cut through the air:

"Set… HUT!"

The ball flew into his hands in a perfect spiral.

The pocket was holding, for now. Giving him time to take a few steps back and scan the field.

The pocket is the protective space formed in the backfield when the offensive line shields the quarterback. It gives him time to find a receiver and throw the ball.

He looked to his right, his most trusted wide receiver, Steve, was running his route, just like they'd practiced a thousand times.

But once again, Steve's route was weak. No explosiveness. No hunger. The cornerback covered him with ease.

'Same thing again… He's playing at half speed,' Andrew thought, frowning.

Since they'd won the state championship last year, Steve hadn't played with the same drive or seriousness. He seemed satisfied with what they had accomplished, like the peak had come too soon. Yet he still bragged about every win like everything was easy, like his performance was still untouchable.

Andrew looked away and checked the other two receivers. Both were new starters, promoted after Jason and Alan graduated. But they weren't up to the task.

'Never thought I'd end up missing Jason and Alan,' Andrew admitted to himself, a mix of resignation and frustration creeping in.

It wasn't like he'd ever disliked them. He always treated them with respect, but deep down, he knew they weren't special talents. Just average, reliable players.

In his past life, Andrew had played with top-tier athletes in high school. He'd faced elite defenses and won games under heavy pressure.

And now he was in peak form. Since the age of five, he had trained his body and mind with a focus most wouldn't reach in a lifetime. His physique, his vision, his reflexes, everything was at its best.

Thinking this, he suddenly realized an outside defender had broken through the block. And up the middle, a linebacker was crashing in hard.

With no other choice, Andrew broke the pocket. He moved left, still staying behind the line of scrimmage. He moved horizontally, looking for an opening.

The linebacker closed in. Andrew gave a shoulder fake and spun quickly. The defender missed the tackle and lost his balance. That gave Andrew space.

The safety came down from deep coverage to cut him off. Andrew faced him, faked left, and made a sharp cut to the right. The defender fell for it.

Another gap opened. Andrew kept running.

Another defender appeared quickly. This time, there was no room to dodge.

But Andrew didn't stop. He gripped the ball with one hand and extended his other arm in a sharp, forceful motion, straight to the defender's chest.

He shoved hard, throwing him off balance and bringing him down with a precise stiff arm.

The stadium roared.

Two more players dove at him from opposite angles. Running any farther was impossible.

Andrew lifted his eyes, and there he saw it.

One of the new receivers, Jack, had broken off his original route, sprinting toward the right corner of the field. Finally, someone reacted.

Andrew stopped on a dime, twisted his body, and threw on the move, arm fully extended, in one smooth, fluid motion.

The ball sailed through the air, tracing a perfect arc toward the corner of the end zone.

Jack stretched out and caught the pass with both hands, just before stepping out of bounds.

"Touchdown! An incredible play by our favorite quarterback, finishing with a perfect throw under pressure!" shouted the commentator, voice full of excitement.

The stadium exploded with cheers and applause.

Andrew stood still for a second longer, watching. Sweat dripped down his forehead. Jack was celebrating on his knees after the catch, throwing a dab. Reggie and Archie ran up to him, jumping and wrapping him in a hug.

Coach David clapped enthusiastically and immediately turned to the defense with serious instructions, they'd be on the field in just a moment, after the two-point conversion, which he fully trusted Andrew would complete.

David had changed a lot. A year ago, he was a mess of a coach. He let players show up late with no consequences, practices were disorganized, plays improvised. No one seemed to care. But everything changed when Andrew arrived.

David watched a freshman lead the team with a level of seriousness he himself had forgotten.

A kid who trained with intensity, studied plays carefully, and demanded more than anyone else on the field.

That's when David realized that if he didn't start taking things seriously, he wouldn't just lose the team's respect… he'd be an idiot.

One who deserved to be ignored, or even punched, as he joked once with his assistants, if he didn't do his job with the same passion.

That's why Andrew respected him now, unlike when they first met. He had even considered suggesting the school look for a new coach. But after seeing David's change, he didn't.

Steve jogged into the end zone with a confident smile. He gave Jack a pat on the helmet and tossed out a line with a smug tone,

"Nice job, rookie. You're getting the hang of it… still got a long way to go, though."

Jack smiled awkwardly, lowering his gaze a bit.

Archie and Reggie glanced at each other but said nothing.

Andrew, walking toward them while taking off his helmet, heard it.

He stopped and looked straight at Steve. His face was serious. Brow furrowed. Eyes locked on him with a silent mix of disappointment and warning.

During the game, Andrew had told Steve to run his routes with more intensity. He pointed out the adjustments. He encouraged him, without sarcasm, without reproach.

But Steve didn't listen.

Andrew wasn't going to repeat himself. He wasn't there to carry anyone, and if he kept pushing, all he'd do was end up angry at Steve's incompetence, losing patience and causing an awkward scene.

If a better receiver, stronger, faster, or more committed, came along… Andrew wouldn't hesitate to leave Steve behind.

Friendship had no place on the field. Only performance did.

The celebration faded. No one said a word. The air felt heavier. Everyone noticed.

They converted the two-point attempt with a precise pass from Andrew, once again caught by Jack.

A short route. Clean. No flair. Simple and effective.

The game went on.

Palisades scored another touchdown, widening the lead.

The opposing school, West Valley, didn't give up and managed a touchdown of their own, but time wasn't on their side.

The clock hit zero.

50 to 28, Palisades wins.

Another victory. Their fifth straight this season. Undefeated. Their ticket to the regional playoffs was almost guaranteed.

The crowd's cheers still echoed as Andrew unlaced his cleats in the locker room.

His body was hot from the effort, and his head felt full. Not because of the scoreboard, 50 to 28 was a solid win, but because of everything he'd had to let slide during the game.

The missed routes. The receivers who didn't step up.

Steve, with his spoiled-kid attitude, ignoring clear directions.

While the team celebrated, Andrew changed in silence.

He pulled on a gray T-shirt and looked at himself in the mirror, his face serious, not a hint of a smile.

'Again with this?' he thought.

He ran a hand over his face.

He knew he was being unfair. The team had five straight wins, a very good run.

He couldn't demand that all the players play like him, or that they repeat last season's results as if it were an easy task. It was absurd to expect everyone to have the same mentality or level of preparation as him.

Of course, Steve was a different case. He was going to bench him if he didn't get his act together. There were no more excuses for his apathy, and Andrew wasn't going to let his attitude drag the team down.

On the other hand, Jack and the other new guy, Marcus, a fast but still inexperienced receiver, played with hunger. They made mistakes, yes, but they were mistakes made by someone trying their best, not by someone playing half-heartedly or without effort.

A 22-point win is a good result. He couldn't expect to win every game like last year, when they averaged 50-point blowouts.

They weren't in Division Five anymore, this level was tougher. And they'd lost several key players, like Jason and Alan.

'We won… I shouldn't be wearing this face. I put myself in this position,' he thought as he took a deep breath.

Little by little, he managed to relax his expression. The hardened look he'd carried since the end of the game began to soften.

He started to regain a bit of his good mood. He high-fived Reggie, Kevin, and Archie, who were laughing and reliving plays as they celebrated.

A few feet away, Liam was drying his hair with a towel, still wearing his gloves. His face was serious, but there was a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes. Andrew walked over to him.

"Good game," Andrew said, approaching and raising a fist.

"Thanks, Captain. You too, as always," Liam replied with a smile, bumping fists with him.

Liam was in his senior year. Last season, he had already been the defensive leader of the team. This year, he was taking it twice as seriously, like he had no room for mistakes.

He trained twice as much, studied opposing formations obsessively, and was constantly talking to Andrew, the coach, and the assistants, soaking up anything that could improve his game.

Andrew respected him for his mindset and work ethic.

Liam had been at Palisades since freshman year, back when the school barely made it to the playoffs with average or even losing records.

So Liam could be considered a late bloomer, just like Derek. Not everyone peaks at 14 or 15.

Even Tom Brady flew under the radar in high school. He played at Junípero Serra High School (San Mateo, California), a school with some reputation, but not nationally elite. And while he had talent, he wasn't heavily recruited.

In fact, he only got one real offer, from Michigan, where he spent years as a backup.

He was picked in the sixth round of the NFL Draft.

After chatting a bit more with Liam, Andrew left the locker room in better spirits.

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