| From Friday Nights to Sunday Afternoons - Travis Buchanon's Football Odyssey |

[DaaaaaBears]

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[image=http://i864.photobucket.com/albums/ab208/daaaaabearsactscore/PLD%20Football/13.jpg] [image=http://i864.photobucket.com/albums/ab208/daaaaabearsactscore/PLD%20Football/15.jpg] [image=http://i864.photobucket.com/albums/ab208/daaaaabearsactscore/PLD%20Football/4.jpg][image=http://i864.photobucket.com/albums/ab208/daaaaabearsactscore/PLD%20Football/14.jpg] [image=http://i864.photobucket.com/albums/ab208/daaaaabearsactscore/PLD%20Football/1.jpg]

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[blockquote]“Dan Forker here, reporting to you to on a beautiful July morning in Lexington, Kentucky, and it’s one of our favorite days of the year: the first full day of practice for our Paul Laurence Dunbar Bulldogs. There is a special buzz surrounding the team this year, coming off a 9 – 1 regular season in 2005 and a trip to the Kentucky state semi finals in the playoffs. While losing many key defensive players off of last year’s squad, Don Leyland is returning almost his entire offense in his sixth season as the head coach of PLD, in what will surely be – "

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Travis Buchanon turned off the radio of his mother’s car, having just pulled up to the parking lot of PLD’s practice field. He stared straight ahead, watching a group of much older and confident looking players joking around as they entered the gate to the field.

“Honey, last chance if you don’t want to do this.”

Travis glanced over at his mother. He was fourteen years old, with short, unkempt brown hair and deep blue eyes. He had good size for a freshman in high school, almost six feet tall and around 160 pounds. He shook his head, unbuckling his seat belt.

“I’m fine, mom.” She put a hand on his arm, giving it a comforting squeeze.

“It’s okay to be nervous, Travis. Be careful out there, please? I’ll have a nice dinner waiting for you when you get home.” She gave him that kind of smile only a mother could give when trying to reassure their child, but it wasn’t working on him today.

“Thanks, mom. Later.” Travis got out the car and closed the door to the family Sedan, and watched as she drove back home. He slowly began walking towards the gate, hoping to see a familiar face soon.

He didn’t know why he was so nervous. Everyone was guaranteed a spot on the team. And even if they weren’t, Travis was good. Very, very good. He set city passing records as a quarterback in middle school his eighth grade year, although Travis was more amused at the fact that somebody deemed it necessary to keep stats for kids who probably hadn’t even reached puberty yet. He had the best arm that nobody knew about, and he was hoping to show the coaching staff what he was capable of as soon as possible.

He finally came across a few of his friends from middle school, Kevin and Parker. They were walking to the entrance as well, when they caught sight of him and waited for him to catch up.

“Where you been, man? Tried calling you yesterday,” Kevin asked, punching him lightly on the arm.

Kevin Weston was Travis’ best friend and had been his neighbor since childhood. He was a little shorter than Travis, with a good amount of muscle and buzzed brown hair. He had been Travis’ running back in middle school, and relied a lot more on his strength than speed. Kevin was definitely the most troublesome out of all his friends, and the most girl crazy.

“He was probably throwing a ball through that damn tire all day,” Parker chuckled, chowing down on a Powerbar.

Parker Slone was from Louisiana, and spoke with a thick New Orleans accent. He was a Katrina victim, and Travis’ family had housed him for a few weeks last year while his family found a house in the area. Travis used the opportunity to get Parker on the team in eighth grade, and he had proven to be a beast from any position on defense. He had very tan skin, short, dark hair, and had a bit more muscle than either Travis or Kevin. He also had uncanny eating habits that would put anybody else at four hundred pounds, but he was somehow able to keep in shape.

“My bad, I was out all day with my parents getting gear for practice. And yeah Parker, I was throwing at that damn tire.”

Kevin and Parker laughed. Travis’ training method for passing accuracy consisted of throwing a football through a tire that hung from a tree in his backyard. He treated it almost religiously, and was often engaged in the ritual for hours at a time.

“One day I’m gonna chop that tree down, dude.” Kevin pointed at the sidelines as they walked onto the field. “Hey, there’s the guys.”

Derek, Taylor, and Sean were off to the side as the players were mingling before practice started. Taylor noticed his approaching friends, and signaled them over.

“Nice of you guys to join us. I’ve been here since 6 ****ing 30.”

Taylor Darby was a big boy. A little taller than Travis and a hundred pounds heavier, Taylor was a lineman to the core. He had short, curly blonde hair and hadn’t grown out of his middle school immaturity yet, but he was fun to hang out with in a group and had known Travis forever.

“Waking up before noon could be good for you,” Kevin said, laying his bag down. “Where are the coaches?”

“They said 7 o’ clock sharp. We’ve still got five minutes,” Derek said, checking the time on his phone.

Derek Cartwright was a lot different than most of the players. While lean and athletic, his forte was in the classroom. He had never gotten anything below an A in his life, but tried as little as the rest of the group. He had run track in middle school as well as play receiver for football, and had been the fastest guy on the team. Derek was of average height, with medium length blonde hair.

“Tight, I could have slept another five minutes,” Sean mumbled, folding his arms and reveling in his own misfortune.

Sean Todd was the last member of the group. He was very tall and lanky, leading to him having played a bit of almost every position, due to his unique size that didn’t really give him a definite spot on the field. He was awfully shy and modest, a desirable attitude given the influx of ego that exuded from the people he hung out with.

Parker rolled his eyes. “No one got much sleep, quit your bitching.”

“I’m not bitching, fatass.”

Travis ignored his friends’ squabble and became acclimated to his new surroundings. There were a lot of kids that looked to be around his age, but the upperclassmen were easy to spot. Most of them were huge; Travis couldn’t imagine looking like them in a few years.

Suddenly, a whistle cut through the brisk morning air. The players turned their heads in the direction of the sound.

“Bring it in! C’mon, right on the fifty!” a man yelled, waving his arms and standing on the white “PLD” logo that covered the center of the field.

Travis recognized the man as Don Leyland, his new coach head. He had seen him at all of the games but only once up close, when he came to talk to the middle schools about continuing on in high school to play for the Bulldogs. He was of average build and approaching middle age, and wore a cap and some shades to combat the rising sun. Travis heard he had played quarterback in college decades ago, and was supposedly pretty good.

Coach Leyland waited until the players had reached the logo to begin talking. Travis noticed the upperclassmen were on a knee, and he and his fellow newcomers imitated them by doing the same.

“Welcome to the first day of the 2006 season, gentleman. It’s a fresh start, an opportunity to wipe last season clean from the slate and begin anew. But with that new beginning disappears your accomplishments. None of you, not even you seniors, have proven anything to me yet. No one will coast through training camp thinking they’re at the top of the depth chart. That’s up to me and my staff, not you. If I don’t see 100, hell, 110 percent out here from every damn one of you, I don’t want you on my football team. Understood?”

The players shook their heads in silent agreement.

“Good. We’re going to start with some basic stretches, then get into conditioning. After lunch, you’ll break off into your positions to get more specific training. Now take a spot on a yard line, and we’ll begin. The quest for a state championship starts here, gentlemen!”[/blockquote]

---

 

[DaaaaaBears]

I'm definitely to finish this, I'm already pretty far along in the writing. I decided to end my last one because I was new to the boards, and didn't realize that a story line was necessary for a RTG to get any sort of following, and wasn't really capable of creating a believable background and future for that character. I hope to get to college by the time NCAA '11 comes out, so I can get started with the games as soon as possible.

 

[AirUpThere33]

Really nice start man.. it's always nice to see some fresh new writing on here. Looking forward to it.

 

[toine2345]

Nice start I'll be following

 

[DaaaaaBears]

Looks like everyone else decided to post their stories today as well. I have the next couple updates already typed up, so I should have a steady stream of updates for a while. I'll try and space them out.

 

[DrDraxion]

Wow this is looking really good, really blown away by this.

Keep it up.

 

[DaaaaaBears]

Travis had never been a superb athlete and wasn’t blazingly fast, but he had always considered himself durable when it came to distance running. But by the second mile under the blazing morning sun, he felt collapsing.

“Quit slacking! Only another half mile!” he heard one of the coaches yell behind him. Travis made a mental note to himself: never take a swimming pool for granted again.

When the team had finally finished, most of them were bent down and gasping for air. He glanced over at Taylor, who was completely out of breath.

“Holy shit, I can’t do that every day,” he choked out.

After a few more hours of drills, Travis felt like going home. Middle school conditioning never surpassed anything more grueling than a one mile run. Luckily they were given an hour for lunch, otherwise he might not have made it much longer. He and his friends found a table and began destroying their provided food.

“That was brutal,” Kevin said, chowing down a sandwich. “I’m nowhere near in as good of shape as I thought I was.”

“I heard it’s over ninety out now,” Sean added.

“Feels like 100 to me.”

“Wait until we get pads…”

A collective groan rose from the table.

“Not everyone looked dead out there,” Derek said. “You guys see Reggie Blount?”

“Yeah, man.”

“Kid’s a freak.”

“Who’s Reggie Blount?” Travis hadn’t been paying attention to anyone else; he had been concerned with just making it out of the morning drills. Parker answered him.

“Starting tailback. Been starter since his sophomore year. You’ll know him when you see him, dude’s 6’2’’, 200. That’s what his rivals page says.”

“Yeah man, I saw that,” Kevin said. “He’s five stars, it’s crazy. I heard he has offers from Ohio State and Oklahoma already.”

“I’m gonna be five stars in a few years, too,” Sean said, finishing his sandwich.

“How about you find a position first, dumbass.”

Travis laughed with the others, but tuned out the recruiting talk to think about quarterback drills. He wondered how many people he was behind talent wise right now. He wasn’t delusional enough to think he could start freshman year, but he hoped there weren’t too many people ahead on the depth chart so he could start for more than just a year or two.

---

After lunch, Travis and the other quarterbacks were shepherded away to a corner of the field by what he assumed was his new QB coach. He looked pretty young to be an instructor though; the guy couldn’t be any older than 25.

“Hey. My name is Luke Heron, and for some of you, this will be your first time throwing a ball as a Paul Laurence Dunbar Bulldog. I started here for three years, and won state my senior year in 2001. Won Mr. Kentucky, and played my college ball for Clemson. Supposed to be a day one draft pick according to the experts, and we were winning bowl games, so I thought nothing could touch me. That was until my senior year, when I got hit by a blindside and landed hard on my throwing elbow. Out for the season, didn’t get drafted, and barely graduated because I thought my future was set playing ball before that. Now I’m here teaching teenagers. So my first bit of advice: don’t ignore school. Football can be taken from you in a second; all it takes is a bad break.”

Heron let that sink in for a second, especially for the players who might have a future with the sport.

“But don’t worry about all that **** right now, and especially don’t feel bad for me. I still got more ass at this school than any of you will ever dream of.”

The players laughed, and Heron picked up a football.

“Good, nice to see some life from you all. Now pair up, we’re going to start with some long toss to wake up your arms.”

Travis checked out his competition. There were five other quarterbacks besides him, most of them looking pretty young. Heron appeared at his side.

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Travis Buchanon, sir.”

“Just call me Coach, Travis. Here, pair up with Neal over there.”

Travis looked over to see a kid already with a football. He knew who he was: Neal Koski. He was a senior and started most of the games for the Bulldogs last year. He had flowing black hair and deeply tanned skin, and was a little shorter than Travis despite being three years older.

“What’re you waiting for, rookie? Warm up my arm,” Neal called out, lobbing the ball to Travis.

They were about thirty yards apart, and the other pairs had already started throwing. Travis threw the ball, trying to make as nice of an arc as he could while putting some touch on it to make it easily catch-able.

Neal smirked, and fired a pass right at Travis’ chest. He barely caught it, sharp pain cracking in his fingers and the pads of his hands.

Neal was chuckling, aware of the freshman’s struggle to handle his pass. Travis was irked, but decided to take the higher road and ignore it, firing back another arcing pass like they were supposed to be doing. No point in pissing off the senior at the top of the depth chart.

But Neal threw another bullet as hard as he had before. Travis was ready this time, and caught it deftly.

“What’s your problem, man?” Travis yelled. Neal laughed.

“Just throw the ball, rookie.”

Travis glared, looking his elder straight in the eyes. He reared back and put all of his power behind a throw aimed right at the senior’s stomach. Neal didn’t expect it coming, and took a blow that knocked the wind out of him before he could figure out what was happening.

Neal crumpled to the ground, on all fours and clutching his stomach. The other quarterbacks stopped throwing to see what had transpired, and stared at the fallen senior. Neal slowly got up, and began walking over to Travis.

“Think you’re funny, asshole? Huh? Do you?”

Heron looked up from his clipboard at was causing the commotion, and quickly stepped in front of Neal.

“What the hell are you doing, Koski? Get back over to your spot!”

“He tried to injure me, Coach! Someone needs to put the kid in his place!”

Heron gave him a shove back to where he had come from. “Quit messing with freshmen and get back to your spot, Koski. That, or you can run some damn laps.”

Neal kept glaring, but eventually walked back to his spot. Heron looked Travis up and down, and went back to his clipboard. Travis was surprised at himself; he was never one to look for conflict and attention, but he wasn’t about to get punked on the first day of practice, even if it was coming from the seniors.

Neal arced his next pass like he should have from the beginning, and they were able to start their first real game of toss all morning.

“Trying to show me up, rookie?” Neal grunted.

Travis caught the ball, and tossed it back. He looked the senior right in the eyes, not backing down.

“Catch the ball next time.”

Neither of them said anything beyond that. After a few minutes of awkward silence, Heron finally put them to a new drill: one that allowed their coach to grade their arm strength. The players got into a line, and each were going to be given a turn the throw the ball as far as they could down the field.

“You get one step, gentlemen,” Heron said, tossing the ball to a sophomore at the front of the line. “Impress me.”

The first couple attempts didn’t get past the fifty yard line. Travis was confident he could outdo that, at the very least, but he had no idea how far he could actually throw a football. Middle school had been a joke, and rarely involved any deep routes.

After Neal had far surpassed the other with a throw that traveled almost sixty yards, Travis the last one to go. The freshman stepped behind the line of the endzone, brought his arm back and let it fly, hoping he could at least come close to Neal’s.

The ball soared, and soared…and kept soaring. It crossed the PLD logo on the middle of the field where most of the others’ attempts had landed, but it was still going strong. The ball finally landed around the opposite side’s thirty.

“Holy shit!” he heard one of the players quietly exclaim behind him. Murmurs and whispers soon followed; a freshman had just thrown the ball seventy yards. Travis made his way to the back of the line and glanced at Neal, who was standing with a blank expression on his face, not daring to acknowledge his freshman competitor.

Heron tried not to show any emotion, looking down at his clipboard and marking a “70” next to the slot belonging to “Buchanon, T”. That was the best throw he had ever seen from a high school arm, and that included his own. Heron might have been able to throw seventy by his junior year at Clemson, if that.

“Good throw Buchanon, good throw. Alright, this next drill…”

---

Practice was much of the same for the rest of the day, with Travis standing out ahead of the pack on every drill, whether it tested throwing accuracy or arm strength. It was about as good of a first impression as he hoped he could have made.

He met up with his friends outside the gates after practice. “Hey guys, what’s up?”

Travis was surprised to see the look they were giving, almost as if they didn’t know him. Parker smiled and thumped him on the shoulder.

“Well if it isn’t the golden boy himself.”

“What?”

“We heard about you throwing the ball seventy yards,” Derek said. “It landed by some of the receivers and it was all they could talk about. They didn’t believe me when I told them you were a freshman.”

Taylor threw an arm around Travis’ shoulder. “I can see it now, bro...twenty bucks says you’ll have a Rivals page by the end of the week.”

The others laughed, and exchanged stories about how practice went.

“You guys need to see this one kid, JaMarius Ferguson,” Kevin said. “He’s our age, and he's faster than Reggie Blount, no ****ing joke. And they clocked Reggie somewhere around 4.4 at some camp a few months ago. This Ferguson dude’s a freak.”

“Yeah, offense isn’t going to be the problem,” Derek added. “There’s a ton of good receivers, I was like the only white guy. Devon Crown’s a ****ing beast and still has two years left here. What about the QBs, Trav? You gonna start freshman year?”

Travis laughed, shaking his head. “Probably not, man. I outplayed everyone all day, but Neal Koski started last year so I don’t think they’ll demote him. Not his senior year. He’s a lot more mobile than me, too. It just sucks that he’s such a douchebag, or I probably wouldn’t have a problem waiting a year.”

More stories of the first practice were recounted, and eventually their parents arrived to pick them up. Travis didn’t think he could wait two more years to drive, but there he was nothing he could do about it until he was sixteen. He was way too tired to go out for the night, and instead turned on the radio while relaxing in his room.

“Dan Forker here, and the first day of practice is in the bag for our Bulldogs. Let me tell you, it was an absolute killer at 92 degrees for much of the morning. The staff seems comfortable with the returning talent, but they’re supposedly really excited about the incoming freshmen. One name I want all of you to remember is JaMarius Ferguson. He’s a fifteen year old tailback who recently moved from Mobile, Alabama, and boy can this kid run the football. He has blazing speed, and could be the perfect change of pace back for Mr. Kentucky hopeful Reggie Blount.”

Travis smiled; this town was obsessed with football. One practice in, and they were already writing the depth chart.

“…but the real story of the day came from the quarterback position. One of the spectators in the stadium today said that one of the freshmen threw the ball over seventy yards during a drill. We don’t know the kid’s name yet, but let me tell you, I’ll have to see that with my own eyes for me to believe it. That’s just incredible.”

Travis was dumbstruck. His name (well, kind of) was already on the radio, and someone had seen that throw. He still couldn’t believe he was capable of airing it out like that.

He put in his iPod earbuds, grabbed a football, and went outside, ignoring his aching joints and ligaments. Listening to his favorite band, Blink – 182, Travis rifled a pass through the tire swing, right on target. Peyton Manning, Tom Brady, Brett Favre. The best quarterbacks in the NFL and his boyhood idols, and he wanted to be better than all of them. He wanted to be the very best to ever step foot on a god damn football field.

First step to fame: beating Neal Koski.

---

 

[DrDraxion]

Nice update,keep It up.

 

[fearme504]

Nice writing bears, liking the story keep it up bro

 

[DaaaaaBears]

Thanks. I'm always open to constructive criticism and suggestions of any kind whenever.

 

[Saints101]

Good ish man

 

[Drownemtide94]

This is great. Keep it up.

 

[DaaaaaBears]

[blockquote]Practice went all through the week, with the heat seeming to pick up every day. More and more spectators attended the practices, and Travis now had an audience to show his arm off to.

Conditioning was going well; as each day passed the miles seemed to be shorter and end faster. Neal hadn’t spoken a word to him since that first day, and Travis hoped Heron was liking his performance as much as he was. He felt he had put a good distance between himself and the competition when it came to physical ability. If he didn’t get the starting job, it wouldn’t be because Neal had the better arm.

As the last minutes of the final practice of the week came to a close, the players got cheers and a standing ovation from the fans on hand as they approached the logo for the coach’s words.

“An excellent week of practice, men,” Coach Leyland said, taking off his sunglasses. “You should all be proud of yourselves. I want you resting this weekend. Have fun, but don’t do anything stupid that could jeopardize your season or anyone else’s. My staff and I will be discussing the depth chart for the first time tonight, so by next week you should have a better idea on where you stand. Thanks for your hard work, and have a safe weekend.”

---

Travis and his friends went out for the first time that week; not even sore muscles and sun burnt skin would keep them inside on a Friday night in July. They had walked to Five Guys, the best burger place in Lexington, and were chowing down, not having to worry about practice in the morning.

“Ya know, it’s kind of lame that we’re six guys eating at a Five Guys,” Parker said, grabbing some fries from a tray. He earned a blank expression from everyone else at the table.

“Dude, shut the **** up…” Sean said in between mouthfuls.

“I’m just saying – “

“I know what you’re saying, and it’s retarded. Eat your damn burger.”

“I already finished it, asshole. I’m gonna go get another.”

They laughed as Parker jumped from his seat, and stormed his way to the back of the line.

“I swear, he’s going to be bigger than me the day his metabolism runs,” Taylor said, chuckling.

“What do you all want to do after this? Hit up the mall or something?” Kevin asked, crumpling up his burger wrap.

“Dude, the mall’s for middle schoolers and scene kids,” Derek said.

“What the **** else is there to do? We’re fourteen.”

“Why don’t we ask superstar here what we should do?” Taylor said, nudging Travis. “He’ll be leading us soon anyway.”

Travis shoved him back. “Good one, dude.”

“Nah man, I’m serious. I bet they’re talking all about you in that depth chart meeting right now.”

---

Coach Leyland and his assistants sat around a conference table in the training facility, finishing up some Chinese takeout and making small chat.

“Alright guys,” Leyland said, pushing his food aside. “Let’s get to this so we can all go home. How’s the offense looking as a whole, Max?”

Max Gyver was Leyland’s Offensive Coordinator. He was much younger than most of the staff, and was an up and comer in Leyland’s coaching tree. It was only his second year with the team, but had proven to be an excellent evaluator of talent to go along with a brilliant offensive mind.

“I’m pretty excited, Don. There’s a great blend of old and new talent. I’ve got three receivers who I know I can depend on when writing up some routes, and the tight ends are solid blockers. Lot of size on the O-Line. Let me tell you though, I don’t know who’s going to stop our running game. Reggie was dominant on his own last year, but now we’ve got a kid who probably runs a sub 4.4 as a freshman. He hasn’t had to deal with too much contact yet, but honestly I don’t know who’s going to touch him on the field.”

“What’s his name?”

“JaMarius Ferguson. 5’8'', probably around 145 or so, I’d say. He’s got a lot of room to grow.”

“Lot of jitterbug in him?”

“It’s hard to imagine Reggie Blount being the bruiser in any duo, but he’d definitely play thunder to Ferguson’s lightning. Think Darren McFadden and Felix Jones. They’re both solid apart, but together I don’t think anyone can stop them.”

“So you’re giving me the green light to put this kid on varsity as a freshman?”

“No point in breaking JV records, Coach.”

Leyland chuckled, and made a few notes on his clipboard. He looked over at Heron, who was sitting at the end of the table. He was the youngest man on the staff, both in age and years on the team.

“How ‘bout you, Luke? What’s this about some freshman stud? That’s all the news station was asking me about today, but I honestly don’t even know the kid’s name.”

“Travis Buchanon, Coach.”

Leyland looked through the roster on his clipboard. “Buchanon…Buchanon…Buchanon…alright. 5’11’’, 160. He’s definitely not done growing. What makes him so special, though?”

“He’s got the best arm I’ve ever seen, Coach.”

Everyone in the room stopped what they were doing. Leyland stared at Heron, being careful not to blink.

“You’re serious.”

“I mean it. He’s got twice the arm I had in high school.”

“Based on what?”

“He can throw it seventy yards with barely any forward momentum. I’m not kidding; he’s been doing it all week. It’s beautiful. He’s also placing passes wherever I ask him to, almost down to the inch.”

Leyland was silent for a second, soaking it in. “So you’re telling me I apparently have the next Peyton Manning on my roster, and I’m just now hearing about it?”

“Sorry Coach, this is the first time we’ve had room to talk.”

Leyland leaned back in his chair, adjusting his cap. He let out a sigh.

“What about Koski?”

“What do you mean?”

“How does he compare to the freshman?”

“Buchanon’s got him beat by a good bit on physical ability. Koski’s got a solid arm, but nobody’s got anything on this kid.”

“What about mentally.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out. He could have Ryan Leaf’s mental toughness for all we know; the kid doesn’t talk much. I don’t think he has Koski’s scrambling ability, and he’s not battle tested, either.”

“So you’re saying that throwing him out there when we’re trying to win a state title isn’t a good idea.”

“I don’t know yet. His arm might be good enough that it wouldn’t matter. But we’ve still got a ways to go until opening day.”

Leyland put his clipboard down and took a drink of Pepsi, mulling his thoughts over. He eyed Heron pensively.

“Let’s let them battle it out. I want you to foster as much competition between the two, Luke. It’ll make them both better.”

“Good idea, Coach.”

“I think so too. Now, onto defense…”

---

The group was walking through the mall, having just gotten out of Dick’s. They had been bored and picked up one of the footballs, and were now tossing it back and forth as they walked past the stores and individual kiosks.

“I feel like a total *** being here,” Derek said, hands in his pockets. Kevin whipped the ball at him.

“You have a better idea? We can’t drive, and this place is close. Quit your bitching.”

“I’m just saying, we’re high schoolers now. And we’re on the Paul Laurence Dunbar football team.”

Travis chuckled. “Being 40th on the depth chart doesn’t count, brah.”

The rest laughed, and Derek rolled his eyes.

“Alright, hotshot. My bad that I’ve actually got competition at my position. I heard Koski isn’t even all that good.”

“Yeah, well I could do your job.”

“You serious?”

“Damn straight.” Derek smirked.

“Alright, go run your slow ass a fade route,” he said, bringing the ball into a throwing position. Travis sped out into the middle of the mall, not caring who was watching. Derek released the ball, overthrowing him by a bit. He stretched out to grab it, and would have made a great catch...had he not collided with someone.

“Oh ****, I’m so sorry – “ Travis blurted, quickly getting up and looking at who he had recklessly bowled over.

He was shocked to see it was a highly attractive girl that looked about his age. She had dark brown hair that went to her shoulders, and light green eyes that accentuated her tanned skin. She was wearing skinny jeans to go along with a tight fitting blue top and a red-checkered jacket that went over her slim figure. Odd fashion choice, but who cares? It looked good.

Travis caught himself staring, and offered her a hand.

“Get away from her, asshole!” Travis looked over; he had just noticed the girls that were accompanying her. They were all wearing similar outfits, with random color patterns a skinny jeans. Most of them looked older than the girl, but not as attractive. Scene kids, probably.

“Are you deaf? Get lost, moron!”

Travis was now aware of how awkward the situation probably looked, and slowly started retreating. He took one last glance at the girl, who was still on the ground looking at him with a confused, unreadable expression.

“Sorry,” he blurted one last time, before quickly scrambling back over to where his friends were standing. They had been laughing their asses off the entire time.

“Nice pass, mother****er,” Travis grumbled, shoving the ball into Derek’s arms while trying to keep his head low.

“Even nicer hit, man. You trucked that bitch!” Derek said, almost in tears.

“Could’ve been on ESPN man, no joke,” Sean added, clutching his side. “I wish I had my camera for that ****.”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s just get out here,” Travis groaned. He looked over his shoulder at the girl, whose entire group was still looking at him. Practice couldn’t come soon enough.[/blockquote]

---

 

[fearme504]

ahh and the first girl encounter for Travis, im sure she will come around again sooner or later...oh and hey Bears you used to be on maddenboard didnt you?

 

[JayHawKSXhenry1]

good update

 

[DaaaaaBears]

ahh and the first girl encounter for Travis, im sure she will come around again sooner or later...oh and hey Bears you used to be on maddenboard didnt you?

I did for a little over two years ago, but I don't remember doing anything too note-able. Good memory, though.

 

[toine2345]

Nice update.

 

[Saints101]

This has a lot of potential.

 

[GMSFootballa54]

This is tight man. Keep it up bro.

 

[DaaaaaBears]

Thanks guys, update as usual tomorrow.

 

[DrDraxion]

Keep the good shit rolling.

 

[DaaaaaBears]

Practice had been brutal over the last few weeks. The team had quickly moved on to pads and helmets, and nausea and dehydration had become frequent on the field.

Seven on seven drills had become the highlight of Travis’ day. He had excelled with his reads and accuracy, and earned steady streams of praise from Heron and Coach Gyver, his offensive coordinator. Guys like Reggie Blount and Devon Crown definitely made it easier on him.

Soon came the team’s first scrimmage of the year, and Paul Laurence Dunbar was traveling to face the East Jessamine Jaguars in a fully padded game. It was only two weeks until opening night of the regular season, so Travis felt the pressure. He knew it would take an undeniable performance and a great few weeks of practice to beat out a senior for the starting job, so it didn't have to be said that he had to outplay Koski today. They would be trading series, so it would be a good comparison for the staff.

Travis listened to some Creed on the bus ride to East Jessamine’s field; he hadn’t decided yet if mellow or faster stuff got him ready better for a game.

Kevin nudged him on the shoulder. “Think you’ll beast Koski today?”

Travis looked at the front of the bus, where Neal was messing around with a few of his fellow seniors, yelling obnoxiously and throwing crap around. It was almost impossible to distinguish who on the team were the seniors and who were the freshman.

“We’ll see, dude. I’m definitely more focused than him.”

---

Neal took the first snap of the game, rolling out to his right and looking for an open man. No one appeared, and he tucked the ball and ran it straight ahead, eventually being pushed out of bounds for an eight yard gain. Travis knew this was something Neal had the upper hand on: scrambling. The freshman trusted his arm too much right now, and was hesitant to run the ball when he needed to.

After a few big runs by Reggie Blount, PLD was in the Jaguars’ territory. Neal dropped back, fired over the middle, and hit senior tight end Ted Pollard for a fourteen yard strike, and a reverse to Devon Crown moments later put the ball at East Jessamine’s twelve. After two draw plays to Blount, the Bulldogs had their first score of the game, and in only four minutes.

Travis looked on as the defense took the field. It was an impressive drive. Not anything exceptional, but Neal had managed an excellent march down the field, just like he was going to be asked to do as the starter.

The freshman was jarred out of his thoughts by PLD’s sidelines erupting into cheers. Travis examined at the scene on the field: Keenan Martell, the team’s best defensive back, had intercepted an East Jessamine deep ball and returned it into Jaguar territory. The offense rushed back onto the field, ready to blow the game open.

“Buchanon, what’re you waiting for? Get in there!” he heard Leyland yell somewhere on the sideline. Travis realized he had just been standing around, and ran to catch up with the rest of the offense. He joined the others in the huddle.

“You ready for this, rookie?” Blount asked, looking down at him. He was massive up close; it was hard to believe he was one of the fastest halfbacks in the state. “Devon’s gonna run a post route, and you’re gonna look for him. Got it?”

He shook his head. “I got it.”

“Alright. Break!”

Travis stepped behind the center, getting in a crouch for the first time in front of a crowd. He immediately became hyper sensitive to everything he felt: the sweat forming on his upper lip, his suddenly uneven breath, the tightness of his cleats that needed to be re-sized…he pushed all of these thoughts away as he began calling out the cadence. This wasn’t the time for his mind to wander.

“Hike!”

Travis dropped back, scanning the field for Crown. He checked down his other options first; no on there. His protection was holding strong, but the pocket was getting smaller. It felt the play had only lasted a split second, but was taking a year all at the same time.

He spotted Crown right when his protection collapsed. Devon had just beaten his man by a good margin and was streaking for the endzone. Travis bombed it downfield, placing it perfectly in the endzone. The junior reeled it in, barely having to extend his arms for the ball.

The PLD crowd on hand was sent into a frenzy, and Travis was mobbed by his O-Linemen before he had time to compute what had happened.

“Nice throw, man!”

“Not bad, rookie.”

“****ing beautiful!”

Travis jogged over to the sidelines, where he was greeted by fist bumps and pats on the helmet. He walked over to Heron for his critique, as he had been told to do after every drive in practice.

“Hey, great throw kid. Nothing I can correct you on there, you led Devon perfectly and placed it on the dime. You just need to move around in the pocket more; don’t be afraid to use your feet. I can guarantee you that your protection won’t be that good every time.”

Travis smiled, still running off the high of his first touchdown pass .“I gotcha, Coach. Use the feet...right.”

Travis made it over to the sidelines in time to see the defense force a three and out and watch as Neal took the field. This time both Blount and JaMarius Ferguson lined up in the backfield. The first play on this sequence was a counter to Ferguson. The freshman ran outside to the left, and as soon as he turned the corner he was gone. He made the secondary look like statues, as he didn’t even have to make one move on his way to the endzone.

“Holy ****!” someone close to Travis yelled. The most entertaining part wasn’t even the initial score; JaMarius had dropped the ball in the endzone as soon as he had scored, and kept running all the way back to the PLD sidelines, where was mobbed by the whole team. The kid had had a seemingly infinite tank to run on, and wasn't even out of breath as he took his place on the sidelines.

The scrimmage ended after two quarters, with a final score of 31 – 0. Travis had gotten another series to show his stuff, but had just been asked to hand it off to Reggie and JaMarius while completing a few short slant routes. Final stats for the day: 3 – 3, 63 yards, 1 touchdown. Travis knew not to get too excited, though; East Jessamine had gone 2 – 8 last year and sure didn’t look any better after today.

---

“Dan Forker here, back with your weekly PLD wrap up. Let me just say, boy was today’s scrimmage a confidence builder for our Bulldogs! We got an excellent glimpse of both the present and the future, as freshman JaMarius Ferguson has surely played himself into a split role with senior Reggie Blount. And surprisingly, it seems Coach Don Leyland will have a quarterback controversy on his hands heading into the regular season, as both Neal Koski and Travis Buchanon played tremendously in their first action in uniform for the 2006 season. Let’s take some callers and see what they think about it.”

...

“I don’t know why we’re even having this conversation, Dan. Neal Koski is a senior and led this team deep in the playoffs last year; why fix what’s not broken? I don’t care how far this Buchanon kid can throw a football, he hasn’t earned my trust yet.”

...

“The caller before me obviously doesn’t know much about evaluating talent, because this kid Buchanon is undeniable. I was at the game, and saw him throw a 44 yard touchdown to Devon Crown by just flicking his wrist. Koski’s a good QB, but you can’t keep that kind of talent on the bench.”

...

“Dan, I agree that we’re jumping the gun here. People are acting like we don’t have Buchanon for the next four years. If he doesn’t play this year, then he’ll still have three seasons of his own to make his mark. Let's not get ahead of ourselves and just make him the starter after a scrimmage.”

...

“Buchanon brings a dimension to this offense we didn’t have with Koski: the deep ball. Teams can’t stuff twenty guys in the box to stop Blount and Ferguson with this kid under center.”

...

“Christ, just let Coach Leyland decide. I trust his decision. I think the competition is going to help both young men in the long run.”

---

Travis and his friends were chilling in Taylor’s basement, reminiscing over the win. Pizza boxes and soda cans littered the ground.

“I’m just pumped we all got to play,” Derek said, reclining the armchair he was sitting in.

“Yeah, I didn’t notice a big drop off from their first to second string,” Parker laughed.

“I don’t think that prepared us much for Henry Clay,” Taylor said, referring to their district rival they’d be hosting in two weeks for the regular season opener.

“Hey, any game is better practice than drills.”

Sean laughed. “We all know you had a good time,” he said, throwing a pillow at Travis. “You’ve got the starting job in the bag.”

Travis shook his head. “I doubt it; Neal managed a great game. Reggie and JaMarius are going to tear the **** out of defenses this year.”

They were quiet for a bit, gnawing on stale pizza and taking sips of soda that had lost its carbonation hours ago. Kevin tossed his empty can into the darkness.

“So when are we going to upgrade to something a little…I don’t know…heavier than soda?”

Sean rolled his eyes. “We’re fourteen. Slow down, tiger.”

“We’re in high school, c’mon. We’re ****ing Bulldogs now!”

His friends groaned, and Travis rolled his eyes at his best friend. “We’re freshmen, dumbass. Nobody even knows our names yet.”

“Yeah Kev, you trying to impress an older chick or something?” Taylor prodded.

“Nah, not yet…”

“Bull****. Tell you what, you find a way to actually get booze as a fourteen year old, then we’ll talk about partying for real.”

The night went on, with more food consumed and more trash talk dealt out. Finally, at god knows what hour, the group had shacked up all over the basement. Travis tried to drift off to sleep, but he had too much on his mind: football, high school, and life in general. He always had trouble sleeping, ever since he was kid. Might as well see if anyone else was awake.

“Man, school next week. Can you guys believe we’re in high school already?”

No response, except a thunderous snore from either Taylor or Parker. Travis smiled; they were growing up fast, but some things were probably never going to change.

---

 

[Saints101]

Amazing update. Best so far.

 

[GMSFootballa54]

Amazing update. Best so far.

I second that.

 

[DaaaaaBears]

Thanks. I'll get in another before work tomorrow.

 

[GMSFootballa54]

Possibly tonight?

 

[toine2345]

Nice update.

 

[DaaaaaBears]

“Dan Forker here, broadcasting on a beautiful Monday morning. It’s the second week of August and only four days from Friday, and Coach Don Leyland has still not named a starting quarterback for the season opener against Henry Clay. Will he go with the seasoned veteran in senior Neal Koski, or does he roll the dice on Travis Buchanon, the freshman with the golden arm? Either way, the man has to make a decision soon to put this one to rest once and for all.”

---

Travis walked through the doors of Paul Laurence Dunbar for the first time as a high schooler, gawking at the sheer magnitude of the structure in comparison to middle school. It was the first day of the 2006 school year, and he was looking for his first period class. He was shocked at how many attractive girls lined the halls; some of the upperclassmen looked like grown women.

He finally came across the room he was looking for on the bottom floor of the building. He checked his schedule card to make sure…yep, right number. It was Algebra 2, the highest math available for freshmen. Not the best way to start off a day.

Travis stepped inside to find the class already almost full to capacity. He looked through the crowd; there were a lot of familiar faces, but none of his good friends were one of them. He took an empty seat in the back, and laid back in his chair as the bell signaled the start of class. Travis couldn’t wait to get through classes for practice. Maybe today Coach Leyland would finally name the starter…

The teacher, an elderly woman named Mrs. Potts, had just begun introducing herself when a girl walked into class late. She handed the teacher a note and took a seat in the very back, the only one open in the room. Travis, who had been trying to get some sleep and had become aware of the disturbance, lifted his head up and glanced at who had come in.

He was surprised to find himself sitting next to the girl he had collided with at the mall. She must have recognized him as well, based upon the looked on her face.

“Hey,” he said, hoping he sounded casual.

“Hey, it’s you,” she responded, smiling a little. She was wearing another pair of skinny jeans, with a thin, hooded jacket. Travis wasn’t a fan of scene kid, punk, or whatever you wanted to call the style, but anything probably looked good on her.

Travis glanced at Mrs. Potts, who was ever so slowly trudging her way through the introduction to her class. He turned his attention back to the girl.

“Yeah, sorry again about trucking you in the mall. I was being stupid with my friends and wasn’t paying attention…”

She smiled, and brushed stray strands of dark brown hair from her face. “No, don’t worry about it. It’s cool. Sorry my friends were such bitches to you.”

Travis laughed. “Nah, I totally deserved it.”

“Well, you did ****ing knock me out,” she joked. They both laughed, earning a glare from their new math teacher. Travis faced forward; maybe teachers actually cared in high school.

“My name’s Josie.”

He looked back over at the girl who now had an identity. He smiled.

“I’m Travis.”

---

“Koski! Buchanon! Coach wants to see you both.”

Coach Gyver had approached them at their lockers before practice, and pointed them in the direction of Coach Leyland’s office while the other players changed into their pads and practice uniforms. The two exchanged looks, knowing exactly what this was about. The starting quarterback would finally be named.

Coach Leyland was at his desk when they entered his office, looking over some papers. Probably game plans for Henry Clay, Travis thought.

“Close the door,” Leyland said, not looking up from the particular sheet he was reading. Neal shut the door, and their Coach finally put down the papers and acknowledged him.

“I think you both know why I called you in here, correct?”

They both nodded, staring him straight in the eye.

“Good, I can skip the little speech I had prepared. Travis…”

Travis’ heart skipped a beat as Leyland turned his attention fully on him.

“You’re a great quarterback. You have the best arm of any freshman I’ve seen play the game, and you have a bright future with this team…”

Could this be it? Was Coach really making him QB1?

“…but I’ve decided to go with Neal as my starting quarterback this season.”

Or not.

“Neal, I think you give the PLD Bulldogs the best chance to win a state title,” he continued. “You’re a senior, and you know this offense inside and out. I trust you. Don’t take that lightly. If things go bad, I know right where to go if a change is needed.”

Coach Leyland reclined in his chair, folding his arms across his chest.

“Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes, coach,” Neal answered. Travis moved his head up and down robotically, not even thinking.

“Good. Both of you get out there; practice probably already started.”

As he walked out of Coach’s office, Travis’ stomach lurched as the realization finally him. He had lost. It was close, but the end result made that irrelevant. He didn’t know why he felt so torn up about this; coming into training camp Travis just wanted a spot on the roster. Maybe he had bought into the hype that the radio and his friends had heaped onto him, trying to make him into some ****ing phenom or something.

Travis was pulled aside by Neal when they returned to the locker room. “Cheer up, rookie. It’s not so bad.”

He looked past the senior, not in the mood for his bull****. “Yeah? How’s that,” he said monotonously.

“C’mon, man, it’s not like you ever had a shot. This can be a nice return to reality for you. Have fun on the sidelines,” Neal laughed. He jogged out to the practice field, leaving Travis the last player left in the complex.

Travis stared at his retreating figure, completely shocked. Ever since he was young child, he had been told by father and coaches to never wish injury on another player. But damn, Neal Koski made it ****ing hard.

---

“Buchanon, what the hell was that?”

Travis was having his worst practice of the year, by far. He was still getting plenty of snaps in drills despite officially being named QB2, but he had been overthrowing his receivers all day long. After he sailed a pass over Ted Pollard’s head by at least five yards on a simple drag route, Heron had seen enough.

“Get over here, Buchanon. C’mon, get over here! Yes, right now!”

Travis jogged over to the sidelines to face his mentor, hands on his hips.

“What are you doing out there, kid? You’re not even pushing off your back foot.”

Travis looked at the ground, not in the mood for any of this.

“Look at me...I said look at me!” Heron growled, pulling Travis’ helmet up by the facemask so they were eye to eye. “What’s with you today, man?”
“Neal got the spot.”

Heron released Travis from his grasp. “What?”

“Neal got the spot. He’s QB1.”

His coach looked off the side, running a hand through his short blonde hair. “Did he now?”

“Yeah.”

Heron exhaled. “Leyland doesn’t let me know ****.”

There was a short silence as both of them stood there, watching Neal run the first team offense. Heron turned back to Travis.

“Look kid, you can’t just take days off because you’re butthurt over something. You’re one sprained ankle or torn ligament away from leading this team. I need you out there giving this team 110% every ****ing day. And if you do, I guarantee it’ll pay off. Understand?”

Travis nodded his head.

“Good. Get back out there now; I don’t want to see any more overthrows today.”

“Yes sir,” Travis said as he quickly ran back to practice. His coach watched as the freshman hit one of his receivers on a pretty looking deep ball on his first play back in the drill. Heron shook his head, and began looking for Coach Leyland. He needed a few questions answered…

---

 

[DrDraxion]

God this is so good, one of the best RTG on the boards
Keep it up.

 

[DaaaaaBears]

Thanks man, that means a lot.

 

[toine2345]

God this is so good, one of the best RTG on the boards
Keep it up.

I second that, and man that Neal dude is a complete douche.

 

[xxYankeesFan2xx]

How long have you been working on this? I honostly believe this could be a published book and not just another RTG on the NCAA board. Have you showed this to a publisher or something if it's completed?

 

[DaaaaaBears]

How long have you been working on this? I honostly believe this could be a published book and not just another RTG on the NCAA board. Have you showed this to a publisher or something if it's completed?

I started about a month ago using my free blocks at school; I had an itch to write and senior year allows me a lot of extra time in school, haha. I feel really good about this story and how easy it is to get from mind onto paper.

 

[DrDraxion]

How long have you been working on this? I honostly believe this could be a published book and not just another RTG on the NCAA board. Have you showed this to a publisher or something if it's completed?

I started about a month ago using my free blocks at school; I had an itch to write and senior year allows me a lot of extra time in school, haha. I feel really good about this story and how easy it is to get from mind onto paper.

You should show it to an publisher once you finish it, this is better then most of the crap I have to read.

 

[joemetts10]

This is amazing Bears, I can't believe I hadn't checked it out until about an hour ago. I'm completely caught up now, so I can begin following more seriously now.

I really like Coach Heron, he seems like a good guy that believes that the best players will play, nothing based on age. You have several good story options already opened and your writing style is great. Keep it up.

 

[DaaaaaBears]

Damn guys, thanks a ton. I'll just keep writing and updating in hopes that more people hop aboard.

 

[DaaaaaBears]

[blockquote]“Folks, it’s finally that time of the year again: opening night for our Paul Laurence Dunbar Bulldogs! I’m Dan Forker, and I don’t know if I’ve ever been more excited for the start of a season than I am for this 2006 team right now. Our ‘Dogs are hosting a tough Henry Clay Blue Devils squad that went 7 – 3 last year and just missed out on the playoffs, so drop what you’re doing and head to Akers Stadium tonight for a great game of PLD football!”

---

Travis walked to his first block in his game jersey on Friday, sporting the black and red for the first time in public. He surveyed the scenes taking place in the halls with amazement. Students left and right were decking the place with Bulldogs posters, banners, and other memorabilia, and the seniors on the team looked like prodigal rock stars, surrounded by guys wanting high fives and girls who probably desired a lot more than that. He smiled, amused by the whole thing. This town really was football crazy.

He walked into Algebra 2 and took his normal seat in the back; Josie’s being vacant as usual. She always came in late for some reason. Sure enough, she arrived about a minute after the bell rang, handed Mrs. Potts a note, and quickly took the open seat next to Travis.

“Late again?”

Since getting over the first awkward introductions on Monday, they had begun talking a lot during class. Travis was surprised at how easy she was to strike up a conversation with, even though they hadn't really made anything but small chat yet.

“Yep. I was busy,” she said. “Miss me?”

“For the whole sixty seconds I was here without you...yeah, I was dying.”

She laughed, and then noticed the jersey he was wearing.

“You never said you were on the football team. #11, huh?’

Travis glanced down at the fabric, almost forgetting it was on. Ever since being officially placed in the back up role Monday, he hadn’t felt like bragging recently.

“Oh, yeah. I’m a quarterback…”

“The one that throws the ball?”

“Not bad,” he said, laughing. She frowned.

“Just because I’m a girl doesn’t mean I’m sports retarded. It’s hard not to pick up a few things about football in this stupid town.”

“Alright, alright, I got ya. Yeah, I throw the ball.”

Travis hadn’t noticed that Mrs. Potts had returned back the pop quiz they had taken yesterday on their desks. He glanced at the number written in red at the top of the paper: 100%.

“Hey, what’d you get?” Josie asked, looking over her quiz.

“100.”

“What? Are you serious?”

“Yeah, why? What about you?”

“I got a ****ing 64. How’d you do that?”

“I don’t know. Numbers and stuff have always been easy for me.”

She narrowed her eyes in confusion. “But we’re never paying attention…”

“I don’t need to,” he smiled. She returned with a roll of her eyes, and slumped in her chair.

“What, are you a genius or something?”

He chuckled. “Yeah, right. I’m just good at math. I barely scrape by in my other classes.”

“Uh huh.” She crumpled her paper up. “Since you’ve been distracting me so much, you need to make it up to me.”

“How?”

“I don’t know…how about teaching me this shit?”

“I can’t teach brilliance.”

“Shut up,” she laughed, throwing the balled up paper at him. Travis smirked, and looked back at the front of the room, where Mrs. Potts was answering questions about the quiz. He turned back to Josie.

“She’s going over it right now, you know. Paying attention could be a good start.”

“You just don’t want to teach it to me.”

“Hey, I’m not the one being paid to,” he said, pointing at Mrs. Potts. She rolled her eyes and started taking notes.

After a few minutes of listening to explanations of basic equations and applications he already understood, Travis was bored out of his mind. He laid his head on his arms, looking at Josie.

“Hey there, I’m bored.”

“I thought you wanted me to pay attention?”

“This class is killing me.”

“I’ll make sure to finish the job if I fail another test in here.”

“I’ll teach you it.”

She raised her eyebrows in skepticism. “Promise?”

“Promise.” Josie smirked and put her pencil down, resting her head on one hand.

“What’d you want?”

“Want to come to the game tonight? I’ll be there.” Travis wasn’t starting yet, but having someone there watching other than his parents would be nice. It also helped that his invitee was flat out gorgeous.

“You mean the football game?”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry, I’ve already got plans with some people tonight.”

“Hey, they all can come.”

She smirked. “They’re not into football, trust me.”

Travis shrugged his shoulders like it was no big deal. In truth though he was pretty disappointed, But he was quickly brought back from his thoughts by a poke on the arm.

“You still owe me some Algebra lessons, though. I’m holding you to that,” she said, smiling at him. He returned it, his mood having quickly returned back to normal.

“Just tell me when.”

---

Travis was impressed by the whole scene in the locker room as he pulled his jersey over his pads. There wasn’t any loud music blaring to pump up the players like in the movies, and there definitely wasn’t any fooling around going on. Even team jokers Neal Koski and Ted Pollard were sitting on a bench in silence, listening to their iPods in meditative silence like the most nervous freshman.

The room seemed to grow even quieter when Coach Leyland stepped into the room. He surveyed over the empire he had constructed, looking at each of his soldiers in the eyes as he spoke.

“It’s time, gentlemen. It’s time for you to see how much you’ve improved. It’s time to find out if those two – a – days and countless hours of your summer spent practicing were all worth it. Because Henry Clay is a damn fine team this year. They played us down to the wire last season, and you can bet they’re ready to turn the tables this time around. But we’re not going to let them. We’re too big, we’re too fast, we’re too strong, and we’re too disciplined to let one of our rivals come into our house and ruin our big night. Not this season, not any season. So get your asses out there, and show the world what the Paul Laurence Dunbar Bulldogs are ready to do this year!”

The entire locker room roared to life as the players stormed to the tunnel, ready to take the field under the Friday night lights. [/blockquote]

---

 

[DrDraxion]

Grand update, now keep some ass in the game.

 

[joemetts10]

Travis is very smooth with the ladies. I like that about him. It will open up a lot of doors for you in the next several months with Josie and other characters you introduce.

Game time.

 

[DaaaaaBears]

Update later tonight.

 

[Saints101]

I'm likin' this Josie character. lol

 

[xxYankeesFan2xx]

lol need to move this up on my recent post list so BUMB

 

[DrDraxion]

^Whats an bumb?

 

[xxYankeesFan2xx]

 my bad BUMP is what i ment, but i think you new that lol

 

[DrDraxion]

My mind powers suspected it was meant as a bump

 

[DaaaaaBears]

Sorry, when I wrote that I would get an update tonight I forgot UK played at 8. I'll get it in tomorrow.

 

[GMSFootballa54]

Keep it up man. What I really like is you don't need fancy fonts. You keep it simple and the writnt sells it. This is very good.

 

[DaaaaaBears]

“Blount cuts outside, at the twenty…the ten…cuts back in…and he’s in for the score! Another PLD touchdown! That’s Reggie’s second of the day folks, and there’s still plenty of football left to play!”

Reggie’s 26 yard touchdown gave him over a hundred yards on the day and his team a 17 – 0 lead, and there was still three minutes remaining in the second quarter. Henry Clay’s defense couldn’t do anything to stop the run, and their offense wasn’t helping.

“44 seconds left in the first half, and the Blue Devils are finally putting together a solid drive here, trying to get something positive going before heading into the locker room. On the PLD 34, the quarterback Masters hikes the ball…drops back to pass…nothing there. He slings it to the left side…and it’s picked off by Keenan Martell! He is off to the races folks; no one is catching him! The thirty, the twenty, the ten…touchdown Bulldogs! Martell jumped that route like a professional, and Henry Clay find themselves in a 24 – 0 hole heading into halftime.”

The PLD locker room was pumped beyond control; Henry Clay had absolutely nothing on them, and everyone knew it. Even after Coach Leyland reminded them that there were still two quarters to play and not to get cocky, nobody in black and red thought they could be touched heading into the third quarter.

“That was a nice drive by the Blue Devils to start the second half, with Masters rebounding well after that costly interception to end that last half. 24 – 7 Bulldogs now, and we'll get our first glimpse of the freshman sensation JaMarius Ferguson tonight, as he’s set to return this kick.”

JaMarius fielded it at the four yard line, faked to the right, and in the blink of an eye was heading left.

“Ferguson runs to the left side looking for some blockers, gets one at the fifteen…and he blows inbetween two defenders at the twenty! Dodges a tackle at the thirty, and he might be gone! Only the kicker to beat at midfield…and he’s no match; JaMarius Ferguson is gone, baby! That’s another PLD touchdown! I think Don Leyland and his staff just found their kick returner for the next four years, folks.”

The freshman followed it up with a 54 yard dash on a halfback toss later in the quarter that set up Reggie Blount’s third touchdown of the day.

“And Blount punches it in to make it 38 – 7 PLD! I’m telling you, this Ferguson kid is only fifteen years old and is a hell of an athlete, with speed only the Deep South can make. Coach Leyland has to be ecstatic with the running game tonight.”

Travis watched as the teams traded back possessions for the rest of the third quarter and much of the fourth. With about three minutes to play and the game all but won, Coach Leyland pointed at him on the sidelines.

“Buchanon! You’re in!”

Travis snapped back from his role as a spectator, stunned to see his coach signaling for him. He looked around to make sure there wasn’t some other Buchanon on the team.

“Yes, you! Get your ass out there and show me what you can do before I change my mind, damnit! X Post 47!”

Travis jogged out with the rest of the offense, a thousand emotions running through his mind: Exhilaration. Nervousness. Determination. Fear. The lights seemed brighter and the crowd louder on the field than standing on the sidelines.

“It looks like we’ll get a chance to see the capabilities of young Travis Buchanon much earlier than anticipated, as the freshman trots onto the field for PLD’s last drive of the game. He has to be one of the most hyped players to ever come though the Bulldog system in my time as an announcer in this city, and it looks like Coach Leyland wants to see what he has waiting in the wings."

Travis’ mouth had suddenly gone dry as he reached the huddle, fully aware of the thousands of eyes now being focused on him. “Coach wants X Post 47,” he stammered, hoping it got through to the ten men surrounding him.

“Surprised to see you out here so early, rookie,” one his linemen said, giving his helmet a smack.

“Me, too,” Travis muttered.

“Alright, that’s a deep ball to me,” Devon Crown said. “Just look for me, man. I’ve been beating my dude’s ass all game but Neal didn’t get it to me. There’s some scouts here, so I’ll try and make us both look good.”

The players laughed and broke the huddle, stepping up the line. Travis’ mind was racing as he crouched behind the center; they were at the 27 yard line, so he was going to have to get it over sixty yards at least if he decided to look for Crown.

“Hike!”

“Buchanon steps back, surveying the field. No one in the flats…but Devin Crown is wide open down field! The freshman sees him, airs it out…my god this kid can throw a football! Crown races for it…almost at the endzone…and it’s caught! An amazing 73 yard pass off the golden shoulder of Travis Buchanon!”

Travis pumped his fist in the air, literally running back to the sidelines. That was an even better throw than on the one to Crown in the East Jessamine scrimmage. He looked at the scoreboard: 44 – 7, seeing it with a new sense of pride. He had actually contributed to this win, and not just stood around on the sidelines all night like he expected to. The crowd thundered in approval as PLD tacked on the extra point to make it 45 for the night, and the celebration began in Akers Stadium.

---

Travis was in the locker room changing after the game, when Bart Gilliand, a senior linebacker the leader of the defense, approached him and clapped the freshman on the shoulder.

“Great game, man,” he said, giving him a fist bump. “Hey, there’s a party at my house in a bit, just wanted to let you know you’re definitely invited. Bring whoever you want.”

Bart left to talk to some nearby upperclassmen, and Travis finished putting his street clothes on. Kevin came up to him as he was lacing up his tennis shoes.

“What was Bart talking to you about?”

“He was telling me about a party at his house. Probably celebrating the win.”

“**** dude, you’ve gotta get me and the guys in there! There’s gonna be tons of beer and girls.”

Travis laughed. “He said I could bring whoever I wanted. You guys are on the team too, last time I checked.”

“Barely…”

He patted Kevin on the back, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Just be patient, bro. I’ll see you there, alright?”

---

 

[DaaaaaBears]

Sorry for the short update, the original chapter was pretty huge so I decided to break it up. The next will be a lot longer.

 

[GMSFootballa54]

Nice man. Looking forward to the next update.