You're a Fool
After the first day of camp training ended.
Nick Saban, jotting something down on his tablet, greeted the approaching coordinators.
“Ah. Welcome.”
“Glad the first day went off without a hitch. You've worked hard, Coach.”
“No, no. You're the ones who worked hard. I just stood around striking poses.”
As training wrapped up, the players streamed off the field in clusters. Watching them go, the offensive coordinator spoke up.
“The level this year is remarkably high. These are only sophomores and freshmen, yet they don't seem far behind this year's senior class.”
“Well, we did gather only the most elite prospects in the nation. You're right, though—nothing below standard showed up today. And there were a few surprises I hadn't expected at all.”
Sitting on a bench and busily working his tablet, Nick looked up at the coordinators and staff.
“So then—let's hear it. Who stood out the most?”
“Hmm, first and foremost, Mateo Rodriguez.”
“That kid is simply insane. No wonder Mahomes has been name-dropping him on social media.”
“He was in a league of his own throughout the training drills. Frankly, the training seemed almost unnecessary for him—I thought he'd be better off doing separate weight training.”
Mateo's name came out of everyone's mouth in turn. Nick, who had witnessed that extraordinary talent firsthand, nodded.
“The kid is a phenomenal quarterback. If his body matures a bit more, he could play in the NFL right now. His physical development will take some time, of course, but his ability itself is exceptional.”
“Speaking of which, he's still out on the field. Looks like he intends to keep training?”
“Mm, that kid...”
Mateo remained on the field. And with him were two other players. One of them had a look that stood out more than the rest.
“Kim Jaehyuk, out of Kansas. Korean national.”
“Right, that's the one. A real surprise, that kid.”
Nick studied Jaehyuk with keen interest. The Asian player who had flaunted an arrogant, unhurried ease from the very start of the survival matches—then immediately proved that his composure was confidence built on something very real.
“Mateo wasn't a surprise. He's an already-proven gem. But that kid genuinely shocked me.”
“He shocked us too. Who would've thought he'd crush Raysheen Guillory so overwhelmingly, in one sweep?”
“I half regretted revising the rules to best-of-five. I would've liked to watch a little more of him going up against Guillory.”
Nick nodded along to the coordinators' remarks.
“Interestingly, he was rather ordinary during the drills.”
“That was the strange part. In his match against Guillory, his movement drew gasps of admiration, but during training he acted like a completely different person...”
“Either way, he's certainly an intriguing player. Wichita North High School in Kansas. State champion this year, with MVP honors on top. So that performance against Guillory was no fluke. Has he committed to a college yet?”
At Nick's question, everyone glanced around at one another. Just as it seemed no one knew, the offensive coordinator spoke up.
“I caught a glimpse earlier—it looked like Alabama's chief scout, David, was with him.”
“Oh, David, that guy? Is he still around?”
They looked, and sure enough, there he was. That familiar face made Nick order him summoned at once. For Nick Saban, who had spent years as Alabama's head coach in the fullness of glory, David was more than welcome.
“Hahaha! Coach, it's been far too long! I never imagined you'd be showing up at this camp.”
David, summoned on the spot, greeted Nick warmly with a handshake and a hug.
“I didn't expect to see you here either. What, has the chief scout's job gotten a little too easy these days? What brings you here?”
“Ah, I'm here as a player's guardian, actually. Kim Jaehyuk, right over there. I personally manage him with special care, so I've been keeping a close eye on him myself. Haha.”
At David's words, everyone turned curious eyes toward the field. To Jaehyuk, David was a familiar sight he saw often, so it meant little—but in truth, David held a rather lofty position in the industry. That a man of his standing would invest this much time for a single high school player struck everyone else as astonishing.
“Is he going to Alabama?”
“No. He hasn't signed anything yet.”
“What? You're looking after a kid this closely who hasn't even signed?”
“Haha. So you react much the same as everyone else, Coach. It does surprise people. But he's a player worth every ounce of that effort, believe me.”
Nick Saban had worked alongside David for years and knew his abilities well. How many times had it been now that David unearthed a pearl in the mud that no one else could see? He was the architect of more than one of Nick's own illustrious achievements.
“If you're saying that, my expectations only grow. Well, given that he's already sent Guillory packing, there's not much left to say.”
“Coach. This may sound a touch insolent, but his true worth is far greater still.”
“Hm? What do you mean?”
David glanced cautiously around. Most of those present were tied to Alabama in one way or another, so he judged it safe to speak.
“First of all—he only took up American football last August.”
“...What?”
“It's been reported in several outlets, but the information was so hard to believe that it never spread widely. Astonishingly, it's true.”
Last August? Then, since it was January now... No, wait. How had he even played a full regular season before that?
“Are you telling me that little Asian kid over there played an entire regular season after just one month in the sport—and won the championship on top of it?”
“It's the truth. The reason he could even start was thanks to Barry Sanders, the new head coach who took over Wichita North.”
“Barry Sanders? What's that man doing here?”
With one improbable revelation after another spilling out, the crowd's interest swelled. Nick Saban, too, had at some point fallen completely into David's account, hanging on every word.
“Barry Sanders is a Wichita North High School alumnus. He happened to stop by, discovered Kim Jaehyuk, and took the head coaching job on the spot.”
“Ohh.”
“Since he took the job because of Kim Jaehyuk, he presumably installed him as a starter immediately. A player with barely one month of football experience.”
And the result? Nothing less, astonishingly, than a state championship. Kansas was a less competitive state, granted, but a championship title was never something to dismiss. All the more staggering considering it was achieved while leading a team that had languished at the bottom for years.
“A fascinating player in every respect. An Asian running back—I can't get over that as it is, and he's good on top of it, heh.”
Talent like that went one of two ways. Either it flushed out and vanished, or it became a franchise star. In his experience the former was far more likely, but if Alabama's chief scout David was pouring this much care into him, he was worth watching.
“By the way—what is he doing right now?”
Then, without warning, someone spoke while looking out at the field. Where everyone's gaze had turned, Jaehyuk had grabbed hold of Mateo and was demonstrating a throwing motion.
“...”
“...”
A momentary brain freeze swept through the group. So, let them get this straight—a running back who had been playing football for all of five months was teaching a throwing motion to the genius quarterback nicknamed Sunrise?
“What... is he doing?”
“Well... I couldn't say.”
And at that very moment, Jaehyuk was delivering earnest advice to Mateo, his expression grave.
“You're a fool.”
When I first read the analysis of Mateo, even I hesitated for a beat. This couldn't be wrapped up with a bit of friendly advice, the way it had been with Hopkins—it went something far more fundamental.
What am I supposed to do about this?
If he'd been some nobody, I could have just spat it out and moved on. But this guy was a quarterback of staggering talent, and it felt wrong to blurt it out carelessly. Having learned what I'd learned, though, I couldn't exactly let it slide either. So I broached it carefully.
“Doesn't your shoulder hurt when you throw?”
“...!”
The instant my words landed, he faltered slightly, as if something had struck a nerve. At that reaction, Hopkins, standing nearby, cut in with a startled face.
“What? Seriously? It hurts when you throw?”
“...No.”
Mateo clamped his mouth shut and turned back with stubborn, expressionless eyes. Anyone could see something was there. That constant blank face—was it because his true feelings gave him away too easily? Talk about an open book.
Hopkins seemed to share my suspicion, eyeing Mateo doubtfully before turning to me.
“Why'd you ask him that out of nowhere?”
“He looked like he was in pain.”
“What's that supposed to mean? How could you possibly know that?”
“Just a gut feeling?”
If reading the Gift counts as instinct, then fine—instinct it was. An instinct only I possessed.
“Anyway, show me one throwing motion.”
“No.”
“No? Too bad, then. I've already got your throwing motion memorized.”
I picked up a ball and mimed the swing. Something like this, probably, was how the little punk threw.
Hey, Gift. Got anything more detailed for me?
I needed to know more before I could explain anything to Mateo. And astonishingly, as if reading my mind, the Gift began scrolling out text.
[Detailed Analysis: Mateo Rodriguez — Throwing Motion]
⚠ Problem: Excessive drop in elbow angle and a high-stress shoulder rotation path.
⚠ Cause: Insufficient strength is being compensated through joint angles and shoulder rotation, accumulating extreme stress on the elbow and shoulder joints.
⚠ Result: Rotator cuff and ulnar collateral ligament damage from the excessive load.
Whoa.
Now that was a report and a half. And far more dangerous than I'd imagined. This wasn't just a sloppy technique—he was eating himself alive from the inside. Left alone like this, Mateo's playing career would be finished.
“You're doing this on purpose to throw harder, aren't you?”
I lowered my elbow angle and drew a wide shoulder rotation arc, exactly as the text had described. Mateo's eyes went wide with shock as he stared at me.
“Looks like you've been making up for a lack of power by burning through your body's durability. A throwing form like this will wreck every joint you've got. How have you even lasted this long?”
I'd thrown it out there just as the Gift dictated—let's see how he reacted. Hopkins, wearing a is this guy actually right? expression, waited on Mateo's response.
“...If I don't throw like this, the ball comes out too slow.”
Mateo finally spoke. My Gift hadn't lied to me.
“Holy shit. Seriously? You've been wrecking your body just to get the ball out?”
Hopkins clutched his head in disbelief. I ignored him and turned to Mateo.
“You need to overhaul your throwing form. You know it too.”
“Like I said—if I don't throw this way, my ball is too slow. A slow ball gets intercepted.”
“Listen up, Mateo. I have no damn clue why I'm even bothering to stick my nose into your business, but pay attention anyway.”
Frankly, I had no reason to look after this guy. But wasn't it a shame? Because this guy had the Gift too. It wasn't the same one I'd been born with, but he was another favorite child of monstrous talent. And the thought that someone like him would never even get to bloom—that his career would end a year from now—made me feel oddly cheated on his behalf.
If he was going to be beaten, he should be beaten by me. Felled by a retarded throwing form? Absolutely not. Climbing to the number one spot without ever having broken someone like him would make the title a fake.
“What matters to you right now isn't your immediate results.”
“...”
“You'd trade your future for a season's worth of numbers? Are you a damn fool? No—no need to even ask. You're a fool, period.”
Mateo's expressionless face deepened further. Like a man sealing the door to his heart shut.
“Here's the thing. I'm going to stand at the very top of this industry—guaranteed. But climbing up there without ever having beaten someone like you? Meaningless.”
“Beat me?”
“Yeah. But the way you are right now, you'll shatter on your own before I ever get the chance to beat you.”
I gave Mateo my advice with total sincerity.
“Even if it means taking the long way around, climb back up slowly. Start correcting your throwing form now, and focus on strength training. I mean every word.”
“...”
Mateo didn't answer. Instead, he dropped the ball onto the ground with a dull thud, turned on his heel, and walked away.
“Uh, umm...”
Only a flustered Hopkins remained, glancing back and forth between me and the departing Mateo, at a complete loss.
Honestly, I didn't know either. This time I really had overstepped, and if he didn't like it, there was nothing to be done about it. It's not as if he could check his own condition with a Gift the way I could.
“Let's wrap up training.”
“Huh? Uh. Yeah, right.”
Watching Mateo's retreating back, I gathered up my things and headed out as well.
Thump.
Back in his room, Mateo Rodriguez collapsed face-down onto the bed. The thought that he should shower flickered through his mind and was gone just as quickly.
Even if it means taking the long way around, climb back up slowly.
Jaehyuk's words wouldn't leave his head.
“What would you know.”
Take the long way? Climb slowly? He had no such luxury.
Smack!
Mateo slammed a fist into his pillow, and a sharp pain lanced through his shoulder.
“...”
Jaehyuk's words had been the cold, hard truth. Not a single thing wrong with them.
But Mateo's shoulders carried a mountain of burdens that had to be borne. Younger siblings to look after. A sick mother. Football was the one and only means he had of protecting himself and his family.
If the man he was now overhauled his throwing form, a long slump was all but certain. And if that happened, the sponsorship and attention he'd been receiving would scatter in an instant—he could see it as clearly as day.
So he couldn't fix it.
“I can hold out. I just have to hold out a little longer.”
Feeling the ache in his shoulder grow steadily stronger, the expression on Mateo's face slowly faded away, bit by bit.