Page 16 of Campus Muscle

Delaney clasped his hands in a businesslike way that was far too formal for the occasion.

“It could be,” he said after a moment. “If you give these people a reason to believe it.”

I exhaled slowly. “I’ll just play my game.”

“You do that. Just make sure that it’s a game worth remembering.”

A whistle blew across the field, signaling that our time was up. I gave Delaney a polite nod and jogged to my position, joining the team just as they lined up. The initial energy I felt was still there. We were sharp and focused, driven by our last win, but it didn’t take long for the reality of the game to settle in.

Curry was unlike any other team we had faced before. They were faster, stronger, and a hell of a lot more precise than I was ready for. It showed on the first drive. The ball snapped, and their quarterback barely hesitated. It was a quick drop with an even faster release. The pass cut through the air before our secondary had fully turned, and their receiver caught it in stride, already speeding up.

Malik worked hard to close the distance, but he wasn’t fast enough, and they got the first down. The next play came even quicker. There was no wasted motion. Their running back slipped through a gap that shouldn’t have been there, and their line held just long enough to make it look easy. Another first down.

I stood on the sideline with my helmet in hand as I tracked every movement. Their timing and discipline were immaculate. And they didn’t second-guess anything. They just executed.

“Settle in!” Coach shouted. “Match the tempo.”

We got the ball back, and I ran onto the field, quickly settling into my position behind Ethan.

“Let’s move,” he said, keeping his voice steady.

The snap came clean, and I took the handoff before cutting right. I was aiming for a gap that had been there all week during practice, but it closed instantly. A defender met me head-on and dove into my shoulder with enough force to stop me cold. Another came on low, wrapping my legs. I pushed, fought for an extra yard, and went down. Second and long. I got up quickly and reset as we prepared for the next play.

Ethan dropped back so he could scan the field. The pocket held for a second, then collapsed, and I scrambled, barely getting the pass off before contact hit. It was incomplete. Third down. I flexed my hands, forcing my focus tighter.

The ball snapped. This time the gap opened just a sliver, and I hit it hard. I sped up through the line, slipping past one defender before another clipped my side. I stumbled but quickly recovered and dove forward. It was too short. Punt team. I ran off with a tight jaw, but Curry didn’t waste the opportunity.

Their next drive carved through our defense again, but this time it was methodical and controlled. There was a quick pass and a clean run. With a misdirection, they had both our defenders stepping the wrong way, and by the time they hit the red zone, the outcome felt inevitable. The crowd erupted as they got a touchdown. I stood on the sidelines and watched the shift on the scoreboard.

“Shake it off,” Lucas called, clapping his hands. “We’ve got this.”

I nodded, but my eyes stayed on the field. The first quarter had just slipped away from us with Curry dictating everything, and the second didn’t improve. I got more touches, but every yard came harder than it should’ve. The line held, then broke. The gaps appeared but quickly vanished. Every time I thought I found a space, someone moved in to close it.

Midway through the quarter, Ethan called the play, and his voice cut through all the noise. “Strong right. Let’s go.”

I lined up with a steady heart and coiled legs. The snap came, and I took the ball. I cut left this time, reading the defense as it shifted. There was an opening, and I hit it. For a second, it worked. I broke through the first line, accelerating into open space, but then a linebacker came out of nowhere, hitting me high and hard. The impact knocked the air from my lungs, and we went down fast.

I lay there for half a second, staring up at the lights as I tried to find my breath, which was stuck somewhere between my chest and throat.

“You need to get up, man,” Malik said, offering me a hand.

I grabbed it, happy for the help, and pulled myself up, ready to shake it off. The message was clear, though. Nothing here came easy, and by halftime the scoreboard told the story that all of us felt. We were outmatched.

*

The locker room was quiet even as helmets came off and bodies dropped onto benches.

Coach stood in the center with his hands on his hips and a concerned expression plastered on his face. “Okay, listen up.”

The door swung open, drawing my attention, and Frank Delaney stepped inside. He didn’t look too pleased, but he wasn’t the only one either.

Coach’s expression tightened as he tried to make a point. “This isn’t the time—”

“One minute,” Delaney said smoothly. “That’s all I need.”

He wasn’t asking for permission. He was demanding attention, and Coach didn’t seem to know how to deal with something like that.

“You,” he said, nodding at me. “And Harris, outside now.”