[color=a8a8a8][right][sub]TIMESTAMP: Before the game
Introducing: [color=#dcd5cc][b]Coach Boone[/b][/color] & [color=#814bc2][b]Jem[/b][/color] [@LovelyComplex]
Starring: [b][color=#3665B8]t[/color][color=#4C70A9]h[/color][color=#627C9A]e[/color] [color=#8E937D]F[/color][color=#A49E6E]o[/color][color=#BAAA5F]o[/color][color=#D0B550]t[/color][color=#E7C142]b[/color][color=#E4B83F]a[/color][color=#E1B03C]l[/color][color=#DFA73A]l[/color] [color=#D99634]t[/color][color=#D78E32]e[/color][color=#D4852F]a[/color][color=#D27D2D]m[/color][/b]
[@smarty0114][@BrutalBx][@Bee][/sub][/right]
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[indent][indent]As the minutes ticked by and the bleachers grew crammed with bodies, all chattering over eachother, an energized feeling fell over the field. There was a palpable excitement in the air, stirred on by the cheer team’s routines and the efforts of the student section. Inside the boys’ locker room however, a quiet tension had settled over the Pirates. They were coming off of some bad losses, and while nobody wanted to say it, and risk jinxing the whole thing, they were all thinking it. We need to win this fucking thing.

Some of the players were stretching, others were abiding by their pre-game superstitions, and another group was trying to distract themselves by ranking the hottest girls in the senior class. Benji Mayhew was standing against his locker, eyes closed, doing his very best to not lose his mind. He had ridden the high of the Great Bullhorn Heist into the evening, but the momentum had run its course as the cheers outside grew louder. He felt like all their eyes were watching him through the walls, waiting for him to fuck up. The pads on his shoulders felt tight, restrictive, and it was making him nervous. The potential for failure was staring him down, and he was losing the contest.

[i][color=#3665b8]You are going to fuck it up. In front of the boys, in front of Aunt Gina, in front of Athena. You should bench yourself. Go home. Do everybody a favor.[/color][/i]

His thoughts spiraled and he dug the nail of his index finger into the skin of his thumb, a desperate attempt to stem the sudden deluge of doom and gloom. He pressed harder, until he couldn’t even feel it anymore, and then he pressed some more. His nerves screamed when he finally released the pressure, but his mind was on that now, and [i]that[/i] he could deal with. 

Whose house?

The Franchise’ house.

The stadium, the crowd, those beautiful Friday night lights that shone brighter than the pearly gates of heaven which he knew he would never see. This was Theo’s house, this was where he thrived. Between the manic stomping of feet from the unwashed masses clamoring to get to their seats, which they would never use anyway because they’d be giving the pirates a standing ovation constantly and the cheesy eighties rock that all football stadiums favoured on game day, he was fucking ready to go.

Pressure created diamonds and Theo Van Cise was at his absolute best when he was under the lights and in the watchful eyes of the entire pirate coast. He didn’t need to worry about scouts, he was already recruited by multiple D1 schools. He was the top ranked middle linebacker in the country, with a record amount of sacks to boot. Alumni? They didn’t mean shit to him. Fossils of bygone days, dead as the dinosaurs and only half as interesting. There were only three faces amongst the sea of onlookers that he needed to impress, that he needed to be a diamond for; his parents and his sister.

Bronwyn was his lifeblood, his humanity. He would protect her with his life and he needed to show her that no matter what happened, they would always rise above where they came from; they deserved better. Showing out on the field meant that they could be safe, at least for a short time. He rarely got to see his Mom, Bobbie, since the divorce and the custody agreement meant that he had to stay with his old man but she was there watching tonight and he was elated to see her. All he ever heard was how much he looked like her. He couldn’t wait for the game to finish so he could say hi. The third face was that of his father, a man who Theo really didn’t need to see any more of. Kip Van Cise was at every game, every practice, nearly every session Theo had at their home gym, his father was there. Glory, that’s all that mattered in the Van Cise house and Kip was desperate to control and share in his son’s.

Sitting on the locker room bench, holding his helmet in hand, Theo surveyed the room at his Pirate brethren; a means to an end, the lot of them. As long as they did their jobs, he could block anyone. They just had to carry a ball across the line, how hard was that?

[color=#e7c142]“Game faces boys, it’s nearly time.”[/color]

[color=#dcd5cc]“You’re absolutely right, Theo, it’s time for us to put our game faces on,”[/color] [url=https://static01.nyt.com/images/2023/05/31/arts/31tedlasso-recap/31tedlasso-recap-mediumSquareAt3X-v2.jpg][color=#1155cc]Coach Boone[/color][/url] responded, his voice echoing in the locker room chamber, as he entered through the side door that led to the gym. With his arrival, the football team grew silent, waiting on his word to be released into the battlefield where pirates would protect their turf from knights. Wearing a black tracksuit with red stripes, Coach strolled to the white board and crossed his arms. He looked at each of his boys, seeing nothing but potential in front of him. His lips quirked up, his own way of breaking the tension and nerves. This had been a rough season, anybody that’s anybody knew that but they weren’t done yet. They still had a season to finish. 

Even if they did lose tonight, he wanted them to understand that losing was essential to success. The secret to life was not winning but learning how to lose and while he didn’t think they would, he knew they were just kids and this was a game they thought would define the rest of their lives. Truly, Boone believed they could go out there and do something great. The game was all about the moments anyways. The journey. Sure, winning was nice and if you really wanted it, you could achieve it, but what people would remember was who rose, even after they fell. As long as they remember that football was an honest game, where the team at its core needed to share, they would be able to fulfill exactly what they wanted to tonight. If their common goal was winning? They’d win. In return, with a hard fought battle, they’d gain the ultimate reward of a lifelong lesson to carry throughout their lives. They’d grow stronger and find out a bit more about themselves. If they left the field tonight understanding who they were a little bit more, as growing teens, Boone would've done his job. Boone would be content. 

However, that wasn’t why he was here. He was here to motivate not give a lesson in philosophy. Motivate, he will. [color=#dcd5cc]“Team first. A battlefield. A neverending feud. I want you to think back on this season. The ups and the downs. The wins and the losses. The quiet before the storm. You’ve all worked hard to get to this place. I’ve seen some of you grow from lost boys Freshman year to the most dangerous, ambitious Pirates this school has ever bare witnessed to.” [/color]Nodding to himself, proud of what his team had become, Coach continued to encourage,[color=#dcd5cc] “Don’t forget how much you had to work through to get to this game. The weight room. The drills. The constant pain. That is all you. You got us here. Nobody else.” [/color]Coach paused briefly, to let his words settle in the room. He wasn’t here to be the humorous, goofy coach they knew well. He was here to be the coach they needed and that was someone that spoke firmly and told them to leave the bullshit at home. To go on the field as the hard working athletes he knew they all were and kick some warrior ass. 

He glanced between Theo and Benji, and the space between them, before looking back at the rest of the team. [color=#dcd5cc]“If you don’t want to be here, I suggest you leave right now. What was the point of all the hard work if you didn’t want to be in this locker room to play ball? I say that not personally but as a man who tore his ACL and MCL in his right knee, my college days, preventing me from pursuing a sport that runs in my veins. I’m not here stopping you from walking out of this room and calling it quits. The storm is here, boys, and if you can’t handle it, there’s the door.”[/color] He gestured toward the side door he came from, emphasizing his point. 

When none of the football players got up, all eyes on him, showing him how deadly serious they were, he nodded, glad they received the message,[color=#dcd5cc] “I know I’m a meme at this school because of my use of the word ‘believe’, but that isn’t a joke to me. Belief whether you care for it or not is part of the process to win a game. It’s in you, here,”[/color] Boone gestured to his mind,[color=#dcd5cc] “Here,” B[/color]oone gestured to his chest, [color=#dcd5cc]“And here,”[/color] Boone gestured to his gut.[color=#dcd5cc] “All that junk floating in you, your doubt, your fears, and your problems — whatever it is that is your junk — a lot of times we let that stuff get in our way. This isn’t the place for that shit and personally, I don’t want to mess with it, do you?”[/color]

[color=#814bc2]“No coach,”[/color] one of the [url=https://imgur.com/rlGhhdL][color=#1155cc]players[/color][/url] muttered in response. He was leaned up against a locker, observing his teammates quietly. A boy with eyeliner, a nose piercing and tattoos covered with bandages on his arm, marking his age. A boy who looked more suited for music than sports. A boy that was a raging rebel, or simply misunderstood because of how he expressed himself. Coach Boone found potential in him, even if he stood back a year. Even if he was almost at risk for expulsion. Even if he didn’t believe in himself. Coach was able to give this kid an outlet in football. First it was mandatory but then it became something he found comfort in and Coach made sure to set him on the right path. The path of success. He was a hidden strength on the team, an OT that many opponents underestimated. An emo kid that had more strength in him than he knew how to handle sometimes. Jeremiah Clark. A good boy that Boone believed in, just as much as he believed in the rest of his team. 

[color=#dcd5cc]“That’s right, Jem. We’re done messing with those bad vibes that bring us down. Regardless of what you achieve or not, I want you to believe that you matter. That you deserve more than a win, you deserve love. Whether you've been hurt or you hurt somebody else, you deserve to believe in yourself. Belief is just hope and you know what? That’s what I want to mess with. I believe things can get better, they always can, and if you want to win this game, we need to believe we will get better. As a team, as people, as men. To believe in yourself and to believe in one another? That’s just important to life.” [/color]Boone took a step forward.[color=#dcd5cc] “Now what's it going to be, team?”[/color] He asked, putting his hand out, waiting for his students to follow suit,[color=#dcd5cc] “Are you going out there into the storm or are you going to stay here and not set sail? Who’s going to believe with me? Who’s ready to fight?”  [/color]

Benji listened to Coach’s speech with a stoney expression, but still, the words helped. He was young and impressionable, and despite appearances, desperately wanted to reclaim his lost confidence. Even if the words weren’t necessarily true, even if the sharp and prickly part of his mind told him they were spilling from the mouth of a washed up has-been, he could pretend, for at least the next two and a half hours, that Coach was right. All he had to do was believe. The rest would come easy.

[color=#3665b8]“We’re with you, Coach,”[/color] Benji said as he stepped forward and placed his hand in the steadily growing pile. 

[color=#e7c142]“Believe in me.”[/color] Theo got to his feet and bashed his helmet against his locker.[color=#e7c142] “I’ll get us where we need to go.”[/color] He struck the locker again.[color=#e7c142] “Put them in my eye line, I’ll break them in half, you boys run up that scoreboard. That’s all there is to it.”[/color] With his blood boiling hotter than hell's swimming pool, TVC violently bounced his headgear off of the steel locker door several more times, each strike with an increasingly more visceral growl. [color=#e7c142]“Believe in the Franchise and the Pirates will sail the seven seas as fucking kings.” [/color]Theo’s deep dark eyes shot over to Benji, it was not a positive look that he was giving his Elite brother. [color=#e7c142]“Let’s fucking go.”[/color]

Benji didn’t know if Theo was trying to light a fire under his ass with his shitty little glare, but it worked. He’d been seeing a lot more of that look, ever since he’d started missing passes and fucking up plays. He hated that look, and he didn’t want to see it again. He met Theo’s gaze, and echoed his words. [color=#3665b8]“Let’s fucking go.”[/color]

Andre sat there, listening to Coach’s speech as he applied the eye black on his face. He’d heard it all before, but yet, he felt like running through a wall for his coach. 

He knew what he had to do.

As the coach put his hand in the middle, Andre got up, helmet dangling from his other hand as the team gathered for one last pre-game rally. 

[color=#d27d2d]“Let’s fucking go!”[/color]

[color=#814bc2]“Woo,” [/color]Jem finalized, putting his hand in, on top of the rest of the team. Coach Boone nudged him, giving him permission to give the last hoorah, as he stood beside the kid that needed him the most. Perhaps it wasn’t that Jem needed him but over the years he grew a fondness over the kid. So many of his students needed hope to climb themselves out of the gutter and he felt like he was doing just that with his team. The James Dean of the class of 2025 rolled his eyes. Instead of saying ‘believe’, he grumbled, his baritone, singsong voice echoing in the silence of the locker room,[color=#814bc2] “Let’s get ‘em.” [/color]

The locker room roared.  [/indent][/indent][/color]
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Three hours later, amidst the cheers from either side of the field, the game felt closer than anyone would’ve liked. The Pirates were down by three: not preferable, but not a death sentence either. They could still win this, if they kept their cool. Truth be told, for the first time all season, it felt like they might actually have a shot at doing just that. Andre had made some incredible catches, Benji had made some ridiculous runs, and Theo had skillfully managed to keep their opposition’s offense at bay.

As Benji looked up to the scoreboard, he allowed himself a moment of premature celebration. [i][color=#3665b8]I think we might actually fucking win this. [/color][/i]There were seven seconds on the clock, and thirty yards to go. He could do this. He had to do this. He had a moment to take a breath, feel his heart pounding in his chest as the teams stared off with eachother, a churning mass of adrenaline and heaving breaths. A moment of calm. Then, with a single shout, it shatters, and the seconds began to fall.

[i]One.[/i]

The offensive line begins to fall back at the quarterback's signal, as though to protect his pass. He fakes a pass to the right, before handing it off to Benji.

[i]Two.[/i]

Benji cuts left, as his o-line returns to position opening up some space. His cleats dig into the turf as his legs push him forward.

[i]Three.[/i]

His heartbeat is thudding in his ears while he cuts across the line of scrimmage and the Warriors’ defence. His breaths come quick as he begins closing the daunting gap between himself and the end zone.

[i]Four.[/i]

Jem and another member of the o-line are in front of him, pushing back against the linebackers hellbent on putting him on the ground. The scuffle threatens to send him out of bounds, and suddenly it is do or die and he is doing. He twists and maneuvers himself around the mass of bodies. [i][color=#3665b8]Fuck yes [/color][/i]he thinks to himself.

[i]Five.[/i]

He can hear the thudding of cleats behind him, but the way before him is clear. He pumps his arms and says a silent prayer. He has just enough time for his gaze to fall on the bleachers, for his mind to register a familiar face. [i][color=#3665b8]Mom? [/color][/i]

[i]Six.[/i]

He refocuses on the endzone he’s barrelling down on, so close he can already hear his peers going wild. He is almost there when he hears a grunt, and suddenly something is crashing into his side, knocking the air from his lungs and sending him hurtling into the ground. [i][color=#3665b8]Shit.[/color][/i]

[i]Seven.[/i]

Benji hits the ground with a groan, as the buzzer echoes across the stadium. His head throbs, as he slams it back into the ground, slapping away the hand of the boy who’d just ruined his night, and potentially, his entire life. All he can think is, [i][color=#3665b8]Yeah, that seems about fucking right.[/color][/i]

And just like that, the game was over. Go home everybody, the Pirates lost.

[color=e7c142]”Are you fucking kidding me?”[/color]

The vile and venom spat out of Theo’s mouth like the poison slides from the gullet of a snake. He launched his helmet across the field with great force, his roasted chestnut eyes burning with rage as he watched the face guard break off in the mud.  He was playing the game of his life, he had blocked every motherfucker that had gotten in his way. He had damn near broken the opposing quarterback in half and yet here they were, an L in their column and why? Because the offensive line couldn’t do their jobs properly. Because Benji couldn’t do his fucking job properly.

Theodore turned his attention away from the field, the chorus of cheers for his opponents felt like an acid rain on his skin, burning him up from the outside in. In the stands, he could see his mother and sister waving, timidly albeit, disappointment and pity throwing daggers from their eyes. A few seats away, as per the sealed restraining order that only those in the family knew about, was his father. Kip’s arms were crossed, his face statue-like in its stern perfection. He glared silently and rage full towards his son. He stood and simply began to make his way through the crowd; leaving Theo to further wrap himself in the arms of his own furious temper.

This wasn’t just any other game.

This was the homecoming game.

This wasn’t just a loss.

This was a death.

Theo scoured the masses on the field that were crashing between each other in waves of ecstasy and depression until he found what he was looking for; Benji. With clenched fists, the Franchise marched through the crowd, throwing several players out of his way until he reached a small circle of his fellow pirates. He made his way through the players until he reached the center and threw his head forward, straight into Benji’s nose. 

[color=e7c142]“What the fuck did you fucking do?!”[/color] Theo spat onto his “friend”. [color=e7c142]“Useless. Pathetic piece of shit! You fucking choked!”[/color] The crowd sounds and audible gasps began to disappear into a high pitched white noise that rang out in the linebackers head. Rabid, he jumped atop his friend and began throwing haymakers. The mask of sanity had slipped.

Andre ran over from his side of the field, coming toward the scuffling of his teammates who were about to devolve into a flurry of blows and punches. 

Watching his teammate run directly into his offensive line and bounce away from the endzone was about the last thing he wanted to happen. As he had his hands on his opposing man, he could only watch as Benji got wrapped up and taken down. It was the last chance they had to win the game, and they’d fumbled it.
Still, it didn’t mean that Theo was justified in doing that to Benji. He tried to get in between the scuffle, his helmet still on as the two were basically trying to kill each other.

[color=#d27d2d][b]“Hey! Knock that shit off!”[/b][/color]

The first hit caught him by surprise. The second, less so. By the fourth, he’d decided that honor and dignity, and all the other bullshit he thought he cared about was complete and utter trash, because he desperately wanted to hit Theo back. If only he could catch a fucking break. The bridge of his nose burned where Theo’s forehead had crashed into it, and the fire radiated out across his face, stinging his eyes. He could feel blood trickling from his nose, and then Andre was above them and he was trying to halt Theo’s attack, and it was enough.

Enough of an opening for Benji to shove Theo off of him and scramble to his feet. [color=#3665b8]“Fuck you,” [/color]he shouted, spitting blood onto the sideline, staining the white paint red. He launched himself forward, throwing a furious right hook that sent shockwaves up his fist as it connected with Theo’s jaw. He knew his mother and his friends and the entire fucking school was watching him, and he didn’t care. He knew that, beneath the shitty delivery, Theo was right, and still, he didn’t care. All of it only made him want to hit harder. He threw another punch, and took one in return. He shoved Theo backwards, creating a space between them, and they stood, glaring at eachother. Two Pirates, out for blood. Benji smirked, unusually cruel and far too callous. [color=#3665b8]“I think I finally get why Trixie broke up with you. You’re a fucking psychopath.”[/color]

Psychopath.

That word hung around Theo’s neck like a noose, waiting to hang him for his crimes. It was a word that had been battered around him his entire life in some way, shape or form. He was always told he was a little different, a little off. There’s just something not quite right with Theodore. There had been too many times to count where someone had to step in because of one of his rages. Usually it was one of his boys in Elite, there was always some excuse and when calm, Theo always had a way of talking his way out of a problem. If not the crew, his parents and family could always be counted on to bury the bodies for the prince of the clan. The self proclaimed Franchise was born under a bad sign, with fire in his eyes and acid in his veins, he was born dangerous.

[color=#e7c142]“Get the fuck off me!”[/color] Theo managed to free himself from Andre’s grasp before leveling a punch at his friend. He clenched his jaw, trying to shake off the ache caused by Benji’s solid fists and he stared down at a fallen Dre.[color=#e7c142] “Put your filthy hands on me again and I’ll put you in the dirt in chains like the rest of your fucking people.” [/color]

He turned his rabid eye to Benji once again and wiped some blood from his mouth. [color=#e7c142]“Don’t you fucking dare bring my Bea into this.”[/color] Every word uttered from Theo’s lips were absolutely soaked in furious anger.[color=#e7c142] “You wanna drag up the skeletons, Mayhew? Here’s one. Daddy goes to jail. Mommy is an addict and the son is a pathetic loser with no future but being locked up next to the old man just in time to see him get shanked in the showers.” [/color]
Hearing the vile words come out of Theo’s mouth struck an incredibly large sized nerve in him. Never before had he heard something come out of his [i]own teammate[/i]’s mouth, and he wasn’t about to roll over and take it like that. 

Benji was right, Theo was a psychopath after all. 

[color=#d27d2d]“The fuck you say to me?” [/color]Andre got up in Theo’s face, shoving him back, [color=#d27d2d]“BITCH, IMMA FUCKIN’ KILL YOU!”[/color]

Andre immediately threw a punch at Theo’s face, as hard as his 6’4 frame could muster. It didn’t matter if it was his own teammate, nobody who said shit like that deserved any ounce of decency.

Okay. This was enough. Jem did not sign up for this and if they kept it up, they’d all get expelled. The last thing he needed was another reason for his father to take out his disappointment on him and his younger siblings. This was supposed to [i]help [/i]Jem’s anger, not make it worse. Smoldering with resentment as his teammates threw quips at one another and acted like they were raised like he was, with a survival mentality, the eldest in the group felt the rage quicken his blood. All Jeremiah could see was stupid teenagers that couldn’t take a loss. They were all fucking dumbasses for not seeing the recruiters in the bleachers. 

[color=#814bc2]“You, him,” [/color]Jem gestured for Eli, the other offensive tackle, to take care of Andre, doing whatever was necessary to de-escalate/sedate one member in the situation. It wasn’t worth letting a racist get under your skin, especially not Theo. Andre knew better than to stoop to his level.[color=#814bc2] “Hayes.” [/color]Grabbing the attention of the middle guard, the son of the principal, Jem led his eyes to Mayhew and growled, with a clenched jaw, [color=#814bc2]“Grab him.”[/color]

Glaring at the rest of the team, veins bulging out of his neck, Jem cursed, [color=#814bc2]“Let’s all just fucking watch and not do shit! [b]Van. Cise.[/b]” [/color]The nineteen year old who was known for having surging adrenaline, bloody rage and many horror stories following him of sending people to the hospital because he hurt people more than a rich boy ever could, stomped toward his victim. Everyone knew that Jem stood back not only because he failed all his classes but because a student was handicapped, nearly brought to death, and ended up transferring, out of fear of seeing Jem again. This wouldn’t be the first body on Jem’s record. 

Since then he was forced to take anger management classes, strongly advised to join a sport, and was diagnosed with a few things that were no one’s business but his own. There were many people who wanted to play monsters but none of them truly knew what a monster looked like. The only ones that he could respect, that could hold their own, who understood where he came from were the kids from Gravette but even then he kept his distance. He wasn’t going to ruin anyone’s chances to succeed in life and Jem knew he was a curse and destined to fail. The Gravette kids had a chance, a chance that was hard for him to believe that he could have too. He had too much to protect and no help. 

Both Eli and Hayes grabbed their assigned peer from behind, bringing them into a bear-hug, over their opponent’s arms, and lifted them off their feet. They could handle getting kicked in the shins if Benji and Andre decided to oppose. There was a reason Jem sent the big boys to them. Cracking his neck, oozing with fierce, violent wrath, Jem was quick to enter the chaos, leering at the rabid animal that was Theo. There were no words left for Jem to say. His focus was on one thing and one thing only: the problem. 

Theo had found himself back on the floor, after Andre decided to fight back, which put him in a good position for Jem to put his arm around his neck, adjusting himself so that his teammate’s chin was in the crook of his elbow. He wasn’t trying to crush his windpipes. Not yet at least. The older boy pulled the volatile player by the neck back up, bringing him to his feet. Keeping him in a neck hold, he turned him to face the crowd, showing the boy exactly who he was disappointing. His family. 

It was then the principal and security came rushing out and Coach Boone had made his way through the crowd to his team. 

[color=#dcd5cc]“Well boys, you really fucked things up.”[/color] 

Most of the team shuttered at the fact that Boone was cursing. He never cursed. He was a ray of sunshine. That is until now. When security came in, running ahead of the principal to the boys involved, Mrs. Hayes looked at each of them, one by one, with a cold and calculative stare. There were videos already trending online and from a distance, the team could see teachers talking to the recruiters and the local news. 

They really did fuck up and it was only a matter of time they’d suffer the consequences of their actions. One storm ruined their ship and now it was sinking. They were sinking. They’d be lucky to finish the season. Any chance of big leagues were ruined for the class of 2025.

Happy Homecoming.
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