Four Stars
The second day of camp began.
Unlike the day before, the moment I arrived at the indoor field house, a crowd of people swarmed toward me.
Still before training hours.
They looked determined to squeeze an interview out of me one way or another.
"Player Kim Jaehyuk! We understand you emigrated from Korea not so long ago. What was school life like back there?"
"Would you say America's autonomous school system played the decisive role in your development, Jaehyuk?"
"How popular is American football in Korea? Is that what drives you to train even harder?"
"Player Guillory made a real comeback yesterday. Any comment on that?"
God, these people are exhausting.
Thankfully, David stepped in front of me and held the reporters at bay.
"Jaehyuk needs to focus on camp right now, so we won't be taking questions."
Polite but firm — the crowd eventually parted. Being famous, it seemed, wasn't all upside.
"Yo, bro. Slept well?"
Hopkins, who had somehow appointed himself my friend-of-years, tossed out a greeting like it was the most natural thing in the world. I gave him a vague nod, and he latched onto my side, chatter pouring out without pause.
"Did you see the article yesterday?"
"What article?"
"You didn't see it? It's about *you*. Those reporters over there were scribbling away like crazy yesterday. Look at this."
I checked the article Hopkins held out. There was my photo, stamped with four stars.
"Four stars?"
"Yeah! Rivals.com and ESFN finally gave you four stars. I think it's because you beat Guillory."
"Then why only four?"
"Hmm, reading what they wrote here... they say a 1v1 isn't enough to prove you're five-star material yet. Performance in actual games is what matters."
"Weren't my state championship finals against two five-stars?"
"That's... honestly probably just because our area is Kansas. Frankly I don't get their criteria either. Still, better than being unrated entirely, right?"
"Hm."
Looking a little closer, only 248Sports had given me five stars; every other outlet said four.
That stings my pride a little.
Most people would just be happy to get stars at all, but not me. Five stars was the bare minimum — I wouldn't be satisfied until there was a number *1* floating beside it.
Twelfth, huh.
Beyond star ratings, the high school ranking system assigned numerical ranks as well, position by position. I was currently listed as the twelfth-ranked running back in the nation.
For reference, Raysheen Guillory was third.
Above us, the seniors held first and second place.
"This is bogus. How am I ranked below Raysheen Guillory?"
"It comes down to track record. You've been playing football for, what, barely five months? Guillory's been stacking stats and results for years."
"Tsk."
Fine, I'll give credit where it's due. I can't dismiss years of effort. Let's just say what's actually impressive is how fast I climbed this far.
We wrapped up the small talk and started warming up. There'd be eliminations today too — if the tests weren't live scrimmage, even I'd be cutting it close.
"By the way, Mateo still seems out of sorts."
Hopkins, warming up beside me, glanced over at Mateo stretching alone in silence. Now that I looked at him — this guy had way too much heart in him. We'd only trained together for a few minutes yesterday. Why did he care this much?
Not like I'm one to talk.
I ignored it and finished my run.
Stretching came next, and just as I was finishing up, Nick and the staff filed in.
"Slept well? Day two of camp starts now. Yesterday's test cut the field roughly in half — forty-four of you remain."
Straight into the survival rules the moment he walked in. He kept going.
"By the final day, only twenty-two will be left. Those twenty-two will form two teams and play a full game. The winning team members will sign individual sponsorship deals with Nike and Under Armour once they enter college — for their entire college careers."
"!!!"
Every player froze at Nick's words. Even the observing staff and scouts jolted into frantic motion.
"N-Nike AND Under Armour? Both of them...?"
From Hopkins's reaction, it was clearly a very big deal. Sponsorships meant... that thing... money, right? Honestly, I wasn't sure.
"Feeling motivated now? Then allow me to announce today's survival test."
The instant those words ended—
A murmur rippled up from outside the field. I turned, and there they were: men who looked dangerous at a single glance, walking in.
Powerful builds. Finished muscle. Intimidating presence.
Seven in total.
"D1 college players. We pulled every string to invite them — go at them full force and soak up everything you can learn."
"C-College players?!"
Every jaw in the room hit the floor.
**
Two days since Jaehyuk left for camp.
And even in his absence, his influence was immense.
"Whoa, no way! The video's out!"
"Where? What video?"
"EUNBIIII!"
Eunbi darted over at the sound of her name and wedged herself into the cluster of friends.
"What, what is it!"
"The Redline versus Guillory video just dropped!"
"No way!"
Had it hit the news or something? No — when she pulled up the site, as always, it was Lejit.
Eunbi skimmed the comments first, then hit play on the video itself.
It was incredibly short — about thirty seconds. Shot from outside the field and zoomed in, the footage showed Jaehyuk catching the ball and settling into a sprinter's stance. In front of him stood Raysheen Guillory, the nation's top sophomore running back, loosening up casually.
"Whoa, that's really Guillory?"
"Incredible, seriously..."
As her friends' voices washed over her, the duel began. Jaehyuk exploded off the ground.
"......"
"......"
Everyone watching the screen held their breath. The camera angle was awkward and the zoomed-in footage was grainy — but the speed came through loud and clear.
Then Jaehyuk made a move that would've fooled anyone watching, and blew straight past Guillory in a single step.
"Damn it."
"Guillory went down. Insane."
The possession flipped. Guillory, on defense now, looked furious — and that fury looked dangerous.
Gulp. Someone swallowed dryly as the intensity bled through the screen.
This time too, Jaehyuk took Guillory down in a flash.
"Whoaaa!"
"He just flat-out ran him over."
"Guillory tried something and got stuffed cold."
"At this point, isn't Redline just the best running back, period?"
Riding the wave of her friends' awe, Eunbi felt her shoulders creep up for no reason at all.
"Isn't our brother basically the #1 running back now?"
"I'm not joking, I mean it! How does our school produce the nation's #1 high school running back?!"
They replayed the video once, twice, three times... on a loop. A few of the students, curiosity piqued about the camp, started digging around online.
"Whoa, basically every top prospect got invited."
"It's a survival format, apparently? So Jaehyuk's the one who got Guillory eliminated?"
"Goated. The man who eliminated Guillory."
"Hey, wait a sec. Looks like the second round of cuts just dropped?"
"Huh? Where where?"
"REDLINE SURVIVED!!"
Dopamine: overflowing. Eunbi and the students scoured the threads with their eyes blazing. Nick Saban joining the camp, Guillory's elimination, the cutthroat camp details — the whole community was buzzing.
And now the second day's cuts had apparently been decided.
The result...
"He made it!"
"That's our Redline! Death can't stop him!"
"The man who ELIMINATED Guillory!"
**
Day two was simple. Train alongside D1 college players, face them directly, and get evaluated.
And then...
THUD!
CRASH!
"Ghk!"
There was an overwhelming wall between college players and high school prospects. What made it all the more staggering was that the college players who'd come this time were D1 products but *not* stars — just guys grinding out respectable-but-ordinary college careers or riding the bench.
That's what Hopkins told me, so no guarantee it's accurate.
Still, the fact remained: the elite high school prospects gathered from across the nation couldn't handle them. Mateo was about the only one whose play didn't kneel before the college players.
WHAM!
"Ghk!"
"Ugh."
"Damn it."
Everyone else was having a rough time.
Fwoosh—!
Snatch!
"Wow, nice catch!"
"That's Dakorien Moore for you."
"Incredible player."
Ah, right — there was one more guy who was actually good. A five-star wide receiver, ranked second among all high school receivers in the nation.
Dakorien Moore. Genuinely fast, with elite hands. Even compared to Marcus, whom I'd gone up against before, there wasn't a thing he lacked.
On pure ranking, this guy's actually above Marcus.
Marcus's ranking? Honestly couldn't remember. Third? Fourth?
Either way, with Moore excluded, the high school prospects were getting their reputations stomped flat.
"Hoo... hoo... What the hell *are* you?"
"Hm?"
I'd been scanning the field when someone beside me spoke up. What was his name again? Isaiah Horton, was it? Since none of the college players were running backs, this guy — a receiver — had been covering the RB reps all day. With so many players to cover, he'd burned through a lot of stamina.
By the time my turn was done, Horton was absolutely gassed. Alabama guy, if I remembered right.
"Thanks for the reps. Keep grinding out there."
"Hold on."
What now. There were still people behind me in line.
When I stared at him, Horton caught his breath and asked, "You're Kim Jaehyuk, right?"
"Yeah."
"You coming to Alabama?"
"We'll see. Don't know yet."
His expression turned strange at that. Whether I did or not, he turned back for the next rep.
Once every rep had gone through, the eliminations were announced, same as the day before.
"...Benson, William, Derrick. That's eleven eliminations."
The eliminated players filed off the field, unable to hide their disappointment.
Hopkins survived. The man's a stubborn survivor, apparently.
"Why are you looking at me like that? Like I'm a guy who has no business surviving?"
"What, how'd you know?"
"What? I was right?"
We were mid-joke when I suddenly felt a presence behind me.
"Kim Jaehyuk."
"Hm? What."
It was Horton. Why was this guy so interested in me?
"Alabama's head coach wants to see you."
"Old man Nick?"
"No, he's the *former* coach. The current Alabama head coach — Kalen DeBoer."
"Ah."
Now that I thought about it, David had mentioned it this morning — that Alabama's head coach would be coming to take a look.
I nodded and followed Horton. We walked in silence until David came into view. The man beside him must be DeBoer.
"Good to meet you, sir."
At my greeting, the man I took for DeBoer regarded me coolly — then, as if none of that had ever happened, broke into a warm smile.
"So you're Jaehyuk. Pleasure to meet you. I'm Kalen DeBoer."
"Kim Jaehyuk, from Kansas."
We shared a brief handshake, and then DeBoer got straight to the point.
"I've watched your film. Not bad."
"Not bad?"
"Haha. Did that sting your pride a little? All right, honestly speaking — you were quite good. More than worthy of contending for a starting job at our Alabama."
I watched him, waiting for what came next. DeBoer held my gaze a moment longer, then spoke slowly.
"Win this camp all the way to the end, and I'll give you a shot at the starting job."
"Oh."
So he's finally offering a starting spot.
To be fair, it wasn't as though no one had offered before — but most of those offers had come from mediocre schools. Viewed against that, a starting offer from a program with Alabama's pedigree wasn't bad at all.
"Sounds good to me."
"I'll be rooting for you."
And with that, the conversation ended. I turned to head back for more coaching under Nick and the coordinators — and Horton trailed along behind me again.
I turned to look at him, and feeling my gaze, he said, "I'm helping with the coaching, that's why."
"Aha."
"Still, I'm jealous. A starting job..."
"You're not a starter?"
"I just transferred to Alabama. I was originally out of Miami. So I don't know how it'll shake out yet, but I'm probably starting from the bench."
"Your skills looked solid to me."
Honestly, they were. From the little evaluation drill just now, even to a football novice like me, his fundamentals felt rock-solid. Every other prospect got hung out to dry — this was the guy who put that wall up in front of them.
"Thanks for saying that."
"I'm not flattering you."
"...Right."
The type whose talent doesn't show up in actual games, huh? A random thought, but my curiosity was piqued. I'd been mulling over my Gift's versatility ever since analyzing Hopkins and Mateo yesterday...
Why not put the Gift through a few more tests?
"Horton, if you're up for it, want to train with me after coaching wraps up?"
"Sure. Wouldn't have anything to do anyway. I don't leave until tomorrow."
"It's a deal, then."
"Okay."
We were only watching each other for today — worth one try. Though of course, if I did end up at Alabama, I might be seeing plenty more of him.
If it works out, great.
Well, since it's come to this, might as well put the Gift through its paces.