A Matchup Worth a Wager
"Hey, David. You've brought us quite the entertainment."
David, watching the players from outside the field, turned to see who had approached him, then made a deliberate effort not to let his annoyance show as he answered, almost muttering.
"Shouldn't you be hanging off the seniors' coattails by now? What brings you here?"
"Oh, come on. Most of the prospects worth our attention already have their destinations locked in. And it's not like anyone's running off just because you watch them for a day or two."
It was Ralph, chief scout for Auburn University.
Auburn and Alabama were locked in a bitter rivalry, and the two men's relationship was hardly any warmer. Rivals was the polite way to put it — in truth, they were old enemies.
"By the way, I hear you've been in and out of Kansas lately like clockwork. That kid's the reason, isn't he? He stands out just for being Asian — what's this, does his personality stand out too? Heh heh."
At Ralph's needling, David simply kept his eyes on the field and said nothing.
"But are you really all right with this? You went back and forth in person for that one kid. Heading home right away — isn't that a bit of a waste?"
"What's that supposed to mean? Are you bad-mouthing my player right now?"
"I'm just saying. This is Texas, after all. From what I hear, half the prospects gathered over there are Texas boys. I wonder if he can survive that. Isn't he one loss in a 1v1 away from going home?"
The moment Ralph finished speaking, the 1v1 pairings began to be drawn.
Players were grouped by position and selected at random, with coordinators — tactical and strategy coaches of considerable renown — running the proceedings.
David ignored Ralph's jab entirely, quietly waiting for Jaehyuk's matchup to be called.
"Kim Jaehyuk of Wichita North."
"Yes."
Gulp.
David's nerves tightened for no good reason at the sound of Jaehyuk's name, and he strained his ears for the opponent's.
"Raysheen Guillory of Aledo."
The instant the name was read, Ralph beside him burst out laughing and began applauding.
"HAHAHA! Well, now, what a matchup! Guillory, of all people! Shouldn't you head up to your room and pack your bags right now, my friend?"
But David said nothing.
Emboldened by the silence, Ralph leaned in to savor his reaction a little longer when—
Pfft.
David laughed.
"Huh? Hey, are you okay? Did the shock get to you? Are you feeling ill?"
"Ralph. Are you going to be all right?"
"What are you talking about? Are you actually sick?"
"No, no. I'm just saying — keep mocking me like that, and later, when you watch my player light it up, you'll get so sour you'll want to leave your seat early."
What David had worried about wasn't losing.
It was that Jaehyuk might draw a weak opponent.
A 1v1 matchup? Anything else, maybe — but in this, he trusted Jaehyuk completely.
The Jaehyuk he had watched all this time could have started in the college leagues right now without missing a beat.
And the gap between a high school prospect and a D1-caliber college football player was far wider than most people imagined.
Right — Raysheen Guillory was a 5-star running back.
To be fair, the other side was no pushover either. Five stars — and considering Guillory's reputation, he'd have more than enough to thrive at the college level. David knew that perfectly well, but—
"Ralph. Care to make a bet?"
"A bet?"
"I'll put money on my player winning."
At David's brimming confidence, Ralph tilted his head.
"Ho! You truly believe that Asian kid can beat Guillory? Then I won't decline. Deal."
"Good. Then the loser reveals one piece of top-secret recruiting intel for next season that hasn't gone public yet. Naturally, a position player who won't compete directly with the other. How's that?"
At David's proposal, Ralph — who inwardly felt like he'd just been handed a free gift — visibly struggled to keep his face in check.
Top-secret intel held by Alabama.
For Auburn, whose whole existence revolved around stepping on Alabama's throat, that was an unbearably sweet fruit.
"Deal!"
Ralph provoked him no further.
He was afraid that pushing his luck might scuttle the bet entirely.
Meanwhile, the 1v1 matchups were already underway.
The format differed by position, and mindful of the size of the field, they had started with the quarterbacks.
Football was, first and foremost, a quarterback's game.
All eyes converged at once.
"Running backs are third in line, after the wide receivers."
A spectacular show had been laid on for them, so—
They might as well go see it.
The moment Raysheen Guillory confirmed that his opponent was an Asian kid from Kansas, his brow furrowed.
"You've got to be kidding me."
A proud boy to his core, he had wanted an opponent worthy of raising his own legend a little higher.
He was currently the running back ranked #1 among all high school sophomores in the nation.
Which meant winning this matchup would cost him more than it gained.
"Ah, this trash-tier nobody. Why the hell is he even at this camp? He should've just stayed and messed around in his own backyard."
The more he thought about it, the fouler his mood became, and Guillory kicked idly at the ground to vent his irritation.
Then he turned his attention to the quarterback matchups about to begin.
There was no way in hell he'd lose to some no-name Asian kid. No reason to spare him a thought.
Murmur, murmur.
As expected — the quarterback matchup.
Players and industry insiders alike crowded in to watch the quarterbacks at work.
"Jenkins, Mikey, Mateo... what a stacked lineup!"
"What's even more shocking is that half of them are going home today."
"Are they checking accuracy first? They're setting up targets."
Unlike any other position, quarterbacks command an enormous spotlight from their earliest days as high school prospects.
Even the prideful Guillory conceded that much. Knowing better than anyone how vital the quarterback was, he considered it only natural.
And through his field of vision came Mateo Rodriguez, whom he had glimpsed earlier that day.
Mateo, warming up at that very moment, spotted Guillory too.
Before long, Guillory strolled over.
"Hey there."
"...Raysheen Guillory?"
"Yeah. First time meeting?"
"I didn't recognize you earlier. So you're Guillory."
The two had been drawn into different brackets during the recently concluded regular season and never faced off. Both had made the playoffs, but Guillory had fallen in the round of sixteen while Mateo had climbed all the way to the final four.
So this was their first meeting face to face — but each knew the other's name all too well.
"If you'd played for our school, we'd have taken the championship. Real shame. Tell you what — why don't you come to our school next season?"
"..."
Mateo simply kept loosening up in silence. That quiet, unhurried composure came across as pure poise.
A monster of a player, and he's only a freshman.
What frightened Guillory was the thought of how much further that monster could grow.
The truth was, Guillory already considered himself a finished product. But Mateo, still a freshman, hadn't even finished filling out his frame.
"We're starting!"
One of the coordinators shouted, and the quarterbacks lined up.
"One-on-ones mean nothing for quarterbacks. So we'll be grading accuracy and pass velocity."
Nick Saban addressed the lined-up QBs, and the passing drills began.
Whoosh!
The rules were simple. Hit the targets with the ball — but the balls were limited, and the time it took to throw them all was timed as well.
There were even twists like this:
"Counter."
At Saban's call, a quarterback who had been stepping up to throw instead dropped back in the opposite direction and threw on the run.
"Bootleg right."
"Rollout left."
With each new call, the quarterbacks ran the corresponding route and fired at stationary or moving targets.
Thwack!
"Wow."
"This is genuinely worth watching. High schoolers putting on a display like this already!"
Roughly four quarterbacks rotated through.
Then came the fifth — Mateo, the only freshman quarterback in the camp.
Thud!
Thud!
Thud!
"!!"
"No— no way..."
Mateo began launching the ball at blistering speed.
What made it staggering was that he never missed a single target.
"Rollout left."
He executed Saban's call to the letter and delivered a fast strike — nailing the target dead center yet again.
And so he pulled off the feat of hitting every last target, at the fastest velocity anyone had posted all day.
"That's a freshman?"
"His body's still developing. How much better does he get once he's fully grown?"
"Mr. Mateo! Could we get a quick interview? Three minutes — no, two will do!"
For a kid who'd just showcased a monstrous display, Mateo was utterly deadpan. The expressionless face he'd maintained all along looked almost mechanical.
Screeech!
"Good work. Johnny, Dominic, Mick, Jimmy — you four can head home."
"Ugh."
Once the quarterbacks had finished their passing drills, Nick Saban immediately announced the cuts.
Everyone sucked in a breath at his merciless efficiency.
"What are you standing around for! Pack up and get out! Wide receivers, you're next — get ready. You all know the 1v1 rules without me saying them. Move."
"Wow, this is brutal."
"Tell me about it."
The invitees to this camp weren't limited to players.
Sports journalists, scouts from every major university, even promoters.
The bulk of the industry's insiders had been invited and gathered here.
The reporters in particular were positively electric over this unexpected, juicy event. The mere thought of writing up who survived and who went home had dopamine pouring out of them.
And now, with the wide receiver 1v1s also finished—
Nick Saban had kept his word.
The quarterback and wide receiver prospect pools had already been cut in half, and the mood on the field had turned dead serious.
"The atmosphere's changed."
Melinda Foster, ESFN's high school football beat writer, studied the players, who now wore a tension utterly absent from the morning.
"I did wonder why so many players were invited for a camp of the nation's very best prospects. So this was the plan."
Emily of 248Sports, watching alongside her, nodded along.
"Running backs are next, right? Everyone's fired up. They've watched people get cut right in front of them — they'll be going all out."
Emily nodded at Melinda's words, but her gaze had locked onto a single player.
"Who are you looking at?"
"Kim Jaehyuk of Wichita North, Kansas. You see him, right? The only Asian player here."
"Oh! Him! An Asian running back — that's remarkable. If I recall, we're the only outlet that gave him a 5-star rating. Is that right?"
"That's right. We gave him five stars."
"We're still holding off. I've seen the game film, but... it is Kansas, after all..."
At Melinda's words, Emily tilted her head.
How could anyone watch that game and still hold off? He'd beaten not one but two 5-star players. That was exactly who Jaehyuk was.
They just don't want to admit it.
Regional bias. Racial bias. They existed whether anyone liked it or not.
But Emily saw no need to call them out. The Jaehyuk she had witnessed was a player who would smash every one of those prejudices to pieces anyway.
"Oh — there's the first matchup. His opponent is... R-Ray, Raysheen Guillory?!"
Melinda startled and looked at Emily with open concern. And no wonder — Raysheen Guillory was the player every outlet in the country was calling the best sophomore running back alive.
He'd stood out since middle school, then delivered spectacular numbers through his freshman year and again this sophomore season.
Factor in that his home turf was Texas — the most cutthroat proving ground in high school football — and his dominance there was proof positive of his status as a true high school superstar.
"Isn't this going to be rough for him?"
"Hmm."
Honestly, Emily couldn't guarantee it either. The Redline she'd watched was a phenomenal player, but stacked against Guillory and his mountain of accumulated stats? The comparison was, at best, ambiguous.
"It's Guillory!"
"Guillory this round. Should be a good one."
"Who's he against? Huh? Oh — the Asian kid."
"Ah, I was going to write a piece on him just for being the only Asian in camp. Guess he's getting eliminated before it even starts."
The chatter buzzed all around them. Raysheen Guillory's fame drew attention to match.
Soon, Jaehyuk and Guillory stood facing each other on the field.
Two figures, ten yards apart.
And Jaehyuk, ball in hand, was rolling his neck.
"Looks like an broken-tackle showdown."
Melinda said, and Emily nodded.
"Jaehyuk's going first."
"Guillory has never once lost a contest like this..."
Standing face to face, the two made the contrast all the starker.
The difference in their physiques was enough to make you wonder if they were even the same species.
Guillory's superior, overwhelming body.
The hard muscle showing through his thin tank top was beautiful enough to be called sculpture.
Tap-tap-tap!
Guillory shook himself loose with a light step-work routine, while Jaehyuk finished rolling his neck and settled into his stance.
The contest was about to begin.
"Go!"
The coordinator standing beside them barked the start.
"There it is...!"
Every eye in the place — Nick Saban and the coaching staff, the prospects, the assembled insiders — swung to the two of them.
Ziiiing—BANG!
Jaehyuk moved.
A launch like a sprinter out of the blocks.
Seeing it, Emily remembered that he'd been a track athlete first. But—
That's only ten yards. Not even a tenth of the 100 meters!
She was just thinking that a runner with more freedom to maneuver might have been the better play than a track-style start when—
Whoosh—ping!
"Huh...?"
"Wh— what was that?"
"...?"
What? What just happened?
The same thought flashed through every mind in the crowd.
Jaehyuk, who had clearly been standing in front of Guillory, had strung together a blur of movements in an instant — and then, somehow, he was already past him.
In other words, he had completely overwhelmed Guillory.
It had simply happened too fast for anyone's brain to catch up.
What was that? Consecutive juke moves — I couldn't even count them. Then a spin move, another juke, a cutback mixed in, and then he pulled away?
Even she wasn't sure she had it right.
It had all unfolded in barely a second or two. Unless someone rewound the footage, nobody would ever parse it.
"..."
"..."
"..."
The crowd sat in stunned silence—
and only then, belatedly, did a single voice ring out across the field. Jaehyuk's, as he tossed the ball back to his opponent.
"Thought you were supposed to be pretty good? Show me something, then."