Chapter 14 Interview

Please vote to show me your support for the story. The higher we climb in the rankings, the more motivated I will feel. Mass releases will be rewarded for each 10 rankings we manage to climb. 

Join Discord to connect with me and give your suggestions about the story so far. https://discord.gg/hTQJtj2K9U 

{!!!Please leave a Review it helps me a lot and lets me know how many people are invested in the future of this novel!!!}

~~~

#Sorry for the delay but have been listening to Can't Rush Greatness and decided to take a page out of C's page#

3rd and 7 to the endzone put a lot of pressure on the attacking side to somehow bring the football across the line. If this was a post-season match with the game on the line some teams would have crumbled under the pressure. Not these recruits though considering they are some of the best recruits of the class of 2021. They had earned their spot on the combine by performing miracles in such moments for their respective high school squads. So, despite Jace being frustrated at his WR and his shaky O-line he decided to focus on the task at hand. He called for a level's play which layered drag in routs from the left side.

His two WRs lined up on the left side along with one of the running backs who would run an in-route just in behind the line of scrimmage. The furthest left WR would sprint into the end zone before running across to the right while the other WR would do the same but on the entry line of the endzone. Scanning the defence in front of him he could easily tell they were going to blitz.

Their linebackers, tackles and tight ends were digging their toes into the turf, ready to explode off the line. Jace adjusted the band on his left wrist flexing his fingers slightly as he barked out orders, eyes darting between his receivers and the encroaching defenders. He had seen this look before—pure aggression and he had been punished for missing it quite a few times. They were daring him to get the ball out fast, and if he hesitated for even a second, they'd bury him.

He didn't care though as he scanned the play one more time before taking a couple of steps back as he wanted the Centre to launch the ball back. "Set, set—Hut," On his signal the centre didn't hesitate to launch the ball backwards into his hands. Jace caught the ball cleanly and immediately felt the pocket collapsing around him.

The defensive line exploded off the snap, their arms ripping through his O-line like a battering ram against a weakened door. He didn't have time to let the deep routes develop—the linebackers were already surging forward like a tidal wave, hell-bent on closing him down before he could make a decision. He took a sharp step back, eyes scanning the field in rapid succession.

His running back, just behind the line of scrimmage, was blanketed by a defender. His first receiver cutting across the end zone had a man draped all over him. The second receiver, though, was just a step ahead of his man but his man was going to make the play if he fired the ball his way. No longer hesitating he drew his arm back and quickly slung it forward but didn't fire as he pump faked.

360 spinning to his left he dodged a lunging tightened who thought he was slick as he manoeuvred past his second running back. Faking a handoff, he took off running to the right side as his running back took off to the left both hiding their upper body not letting anyone know who had the ball. The deception worked—just for a second, but that was all Jace needed.

The opposing linebackers who had broken free bit hard, hesitating as they read the running back's movement, their eyes locked onto him instead of Jace. That gave Jace just enough space to accelerate forward in a diagonal line towards the endzone. A defensive end broke free, recognizing the fake too late but still barrelling toward Jace like a freight train.

Jace tucked the ball tight against his chest, his cleats digging into the turf as he turned on the jets. The defensive end lunged, arms outstretched, fingertips grazing his jersey—but Jace twisted his torso, just enough to slip out of the grasp. He planted his foot hard, cutting inside, as he approached the chaos in front of him looking for a breakthrough before any other defenders could notice him.

It was too late though as most of the nearby defenders had realised that he was carrying the ball and were trying to make it to him as fast as possible. A defensive tackle lunged in from the side at full speed aiming for the spot he was just about to run into. managing to anticipate this Jace came to a sudden halt watching as the defender crashed onto the turf as he hurled over him.

Crossing the five-yard line he had only the cornerback to beat, and he would be in the clear. The guy had sent his tight end flying to the ground just in time to turn his attention to Jace who was approaching. Jace knew he had one move—one chance to make this count. The cornerback had already squared up, knees bent, eyes locked onto his hips, ready to pounce the moment he made his move. He'd be stopped short of the end zone if he hesitated, even for a fraction of a second.

He took a quick jab step to his left, baiting the defender into shifting his weight, then immediately exploded to the right. But he wasn't done—just as the cornerback committed, Jace hit him with a devastating dead leg, dropping his weight mid-stride and shifting back inside. The defender lunged—hands grasping at nothing but air.

Jace shot past him, knees pumping, chest tight, diving forward just as another defender reached for him. 'Touchdown' Team 2 immediately erupted with energy as they swarmed him in celebrations.

~~~ 

[Stanford, 17:00]

The afternoon sun was slowly disappearing from the horizon as the players who barely managed to wash up and have their dinner could be seen seated in a lounge. Most of them held invitation cards from different colleges who reached out to request an interview after seeing their performance in these two days. Some like Jace and Mike received a lot in their case 7 and 12 respectively while others barely managed to get one, which was Tariq's case.

Now and then a recruit would exit one of the neatly lined up rooms with a college logo after completing an interview either looking constipated or on cloud 9. Their expressions shifted between confidence, exhaustion, and, in some cases, outright confusion.

~~~

[UCLA, 17:00]

Jace sat back in his chair, his arms loosely crossed as the UCLA recruiting coordinator, a middle-aged man with a sharp suit and a lazy smirk, leaned forward across the table. "If you had to pick between throwing the game-winning touchdown or taking off on a 50-yard run to win it yourself, which would you choose?"

Jace smirked. "Whatever gets us six points, but if I had to choose, I'd rather throw it less variables to consider,"

The recruiter chuckled, shaking his head. "Smart answer, but let's get real. If you're scrambling, got a wide-open man on the sideline, but there's also daylight ahead… what's your gut telling you?"

Jace didn't even think about it and said the first word that came to mind. "That's easy If I have to leave my pocket, they either didn't get open fast enough or I didn't trust them enough to throw it to them. So, unless my O-line went on vacation I'm only leaving the pocket to run the ball forward or get a better angle on a man I can trust," The room went quiet for a second as the recruiter seemed to consider his words before he nodded in acknowledgement.

~~~

[Alabama, 17:10]

Tariq adjusted in his seat as the Alabama recruiter, an elderly black man in his early fifties adjusted his crimson cap. His name tag read Mike Dixon, Alabama Crimson Tide offensive coordinator bringing that much more pressure to Tariq. This was the only interview offer he had received despite his performance at the combine, so he had to do his best to impress the man in front of him.

Being a Crimson Tide is every running back's dream, especially for him who never dared to dream that far. His only goal was to get recruited by a college and perform well enough to get drafted so he could provide for his family. Getting honour or even playing for his favourite college ever since choosing his position never even entered his mind.

Tariq sat up straight, feeling the weight of his only interview offer pressing against his chest. Mike Dixon, the Alabama offensive coordinator, studied him from across the table, fingers tapping lightly against his notebook. He didn't seem like the type to waste time with fluff questions.

"You had 178 rushing yards today," Dixon started, his voice steady but probing. "Twenty-three carries, three touchdowns. I like that." Tariq swallowed and gave a small nod, unsure if he should speak yet.

"But tell me this," Dixon continued, leaning forward, "what's your plan when you see the defensive end shift inside at the last second, but you already committed to bouncing the run outside?"

Tariq blinked, running the scenario in his head. "If I see him shift inside, I gotta trust my instincts," he said quickly. "If the cornerback isn't tight to the line, I keep going outside. If he is, I plant my foot, cut inside, and try to turn his mistake into a five-yard gain instead of a two-yard loss."

Dixon nodded slowly, tapping his fingers again. "Good. Now let's get real." His eyes locked onto Tariq's. "How do you respond when your O-line gets beat and you get hit before the play even develops?"

Tariq clenched his jaw. "Get up. Run it again."

Dixon let out a low chuckle, finally breaking into a grin. "I like that." he laughed for a few more moments before suddenly getting serious. "I'll be honest.

.

.

.

.

To Be Continued...