The Crimson Debut
The cable channel broadcasting the upcoming game between the Alabama Crimson Tide and the UCLA Bruins.
From the NCAA D1 level onward, games were broadcast nationwide on television. While the reach didn't quite match that of the major networks, anywhere from two million on the low end to well over ten million viewers tuned in.
And the current viewer count stood at roughly 5.5 million.
It was the season opener, and it was Alabama playing — a combination that had drawn a sizable crowd of spectators.
A crowd of more than a hundred thousand filled the stands. The searing heat of the moments before kickoff was practically leaking through the screen.
Before long, the broadcast feed cut away, and a camera panned into the commentary booth.
“Good evening, football fans everywhere! The NCAA college football season we've all been waiting for is finally raising its grand curtain. I'm Johnson, your play-by-play caster for today's broadcast.”
Johnson dipped his head toward the camera in greeting. At that, the man seated beside him introduced himself in turn.
“Hello, everyone — Michael Williams, your color commentator and former quarterback. The energy here in Tuscaloosa, at Bryant-Denny Stadium, is absolutely electric. It's no exaggeration to say that Alabama fans are the most passionate in all of America.”
“That's right, Williams! Today's season opener kicks things off with a blockbuster matchup between the storied powerhouse Alabama Crimson Tide and the UCLA Bruins, a surging program fresh off its move to the Big Ten Conference. Both teams will want to open their new season with a statement win.”
Williams nodded along, an expression of considerable interest settling over his face.
“This game carries enormous weight for Alabama in more ways than one. The past two seasons fell short of expectations — there was even talk of a dynasty in decline.”
“We've checked the roster, and it appears there was a sweeping overhaul of the squad this year. Third-years make up the core of it.”
“You'll spot the occasional sophomore too — and most notably, a freshman. Number 21, running back Kim Jaehyuk! He's the player I've been watching most closely of late.”
“A rarity in NCAA college football — an East Asian player! And not just that, a skill-position player at running back! This is a genuinely fascinating storyline. It seems Alabama has been holding this in reserve as their trump card. Williams, what's your take?”
At Johnson's question, Williams stroked his chin.
“Kim Jaehyuk's high school numbers are extraordinary. He was, for all practical purposes, the number one ranked high school running back in the country. If you take a look at the material we have here—”
Brief graphics flashed across the screen. Jaehyuk's stats and records from his Wichita North days rolled past in quick succession.
“Wait a minute — his rushing yards and touchdowns per game are—!!”
Johnson's eyes went wide at the sight. Watching him, Williams nodded vigorously.
“Of course, we do have to account for the fact that he played in Kansas. Even so, look at the 25-game stretch shown here — the championship opponent featured not one but two five-star recruits. To put up the kind of performance he always does against a team like that is a remarkable record.”
“And as it happens, one of those five-star players is now at Alabama as well, isn't he? Wide receiver Marcus Thornton. He's sitting on the bench for this one as a rotational piece.”
“College ball is a different animal from high school. NCAA D1 FBS is where only the finest, most battle-tested players from across the nation converge!! The question is whether he can keep delivering jaw-dropping performances on this stage!”
The feed cut once more, sweeping over Bryant-Denny Stadium in total darkness. Then the crimson lights ignited, and the atmosphere caught fire with the promise of kickoff.
“Here we go! Will the Crimson Tide rise from two years of mediocrity — or will the Bruins' unstoppable surge knock the Tide off its feet as well!”
“The players are taking the field!!”
A lavish marching band thundered through its fanfare, swallowed whole by the roar of the crowd. A hundred thousand voices cheering at once seemed capable of triggering an actual earthquake.
And yet the UCLA Bruins' players showed not a flicker of unease. If anything, faint, predatory smiles crept across their faces — the smiles of men planning to wipe that noise off every face here today.
Amid it all, UCLA head coach Foster let out a hollow laugh.
“So he really did bring it, exactly as listed.”
He had doubted the roster right up to the very last moment. There had been perfectly serviceable seniors available — sure, their talent fell short of the starters who had departed after last season, but they were seniors all the same. Experience and skill had to count for something over younger players.
Instead, Alabama's head coach DeBoer had pulled off an audacious gambit.
Juniors as the core…
Juniors anchoring the lineup, seniors after them. Even three sophomores made the starting sheets on offense and defense combined — and the running back was a freshman, of all things.
“Watch Ryan Williams at receiver and Ty Simpson at quarterback, and that should about cover it.”
Honestly, Williams was the only one who truly needed watching. Ty Simpson had been a backup quarterback until last season, elevated to the starting job this year — good enough to play at Alabama, but exactly that and no more.
The Bruins' players seemed well aware of all this, and their morale was skyrocketing. The cocksure swagger of a team that had already counted the win.
“Everyone, focus up!!”
Coach Foster called his players in.
“Heads on straight, all of you! This is the regular-season opener! The other roster might look a little strange, but this is still Alabama! A storied powerhouse! A program with more national titles than you can count on your hands!!”
His words pulled the momentarily careless players back onto solid ground.
“Unless their coach has lost his mind, he built that roster on purpose, didn't he? No sane man assembles a lineup like that planning to lose! They intend to beat you with this — which means they just disrespected every single one of you!”
“Guh!”
DeBoer, of course, had intended nothing of the sort. But Foster's words landed convincingly on the Bruins' ears, and just like that, UCLA's complacency was blasted clean out of the building.
“Go out there and tear them apart! Show the world exactly who the UCLA Bruins are! And make damn sure nobody ever looks down on us again!!”
“HUUAAAH!!!!”
Having whipped his team into a frenzy, Foster clapped each player on the shoulder as he sent them onto the field. Fortune favored them at the coin toss as well — the Bruins elected to defer, meaning they would get the first crack at stopping Alabama's offense.
Thwack!
“Gary! A lot of people are counting on you out there!”
“Just watch me, Coach!”
Gary Zamond flashed a dependable grin, strapped on his helmet, and jogged out. UCLA's Bruins — renowned across the Big Ten for boasting the conference's elite defense — took the field.
“Booooooo!!”
“Get off our field!!”
“Go home!”
The crowd jeered, but the Bruins didn't so much as pretend to hear it. Soon after, Alabama's crimson tide rolled onto the field from the opposite side.
““WAAAAAAH!!!””
“Roll Tide! Roll Tide!”
BWOOOOOOOM!!
A tidal wave of cheers and shrieks. Drowned in the wall of sound filling the stadium, Alabama's players lined up across from the Bruins.
And then, at last — the opening kickoff.
BOOOOOM!!
A hang time and distance in an entirely different dimension from anything high schoolers could produce. The ball off the Bruins' foot sailed long and deep, soaring clean out of the end zone.
And so the game naturally began with Alabama at their own 20-yard line.
“Cover the three and the eight running routes across the middle, watch for the shotgun formation — and above all, keep your eyes on Ryan Williams!”
In the sliver of time remaining after the kickoff, Coach Foster rattled off his dense tactical briefing before the defense filed back onto the field. The real game was finally about to begin.
Whew.
The roar of the crowd was staggering — yet to the players standing on the field, it registered as nothing more than white noise. Everyone was locked in on the game.
Hm?
Then something snagged on Gary Zamond's instincts. Something impossible to put into words — a creeping, crawling prickle at the edge of his senses.
A run?
He couldn't say why, but every fiber of him insisted Alabama was setting up a run play. He forced himself to settle down.
Their running back is a brand-new freshman.
Playing in front of a hundred thousand spectators was never an easy thing — for friend or foe alike. The pressure would come crashing down like a landslide.
Which explained it, probably: as far as Gary knew, the opposing running back hadn't worn an eye shield in practice — but for this game, he'd put one on for the first time.
Must be rough for him.
The weight of a hundred thousand stares was hard enough to bear. It might have simply been a trick to keep his face from being read. Either way, a rattled rookie wouldn't dare come out swinging with a run game from the very first drive.
“…?”
And yet.
Gary, who had been watching the eye shield all along, caught something. At first he thought his eyes had deceived him—
“Is he… smiling?”
The lower half of the rookie's face, the part the visor couldn't hide. The corner of his mouth was turned up.
“Get set! Ready—!”
Alabama quarterback Ty Simpson's voice rolled out across the middle of the field.
“Seeet!!”
“Hut!!”
Pop!
An off-beat cadence, deliberately hard to time. But the Bruins didn't bite.
BAM! CRUNCH! THUD!
The linemen collided with everything they had, churning the line of scrimmage into pure chaos. Gary Zamond never took his eyes off the quarterback, tracking the receivers bursting out to either side.
A quick pass?
One receiver broke toward the sideline — running a short route instead of going deep, the very picture of a man about to catch a quick throw.
Tap-tap!
Gary happened to be nearby and bolted straight for that side of the field.
And in that instant—
“IT'S A RUUUUN!!!!”
A single teammate lineman's scream. Mid-stride, Gary had no time to think; instinct wrenched his body into a turn.
And then—
FWOOSH—!!
Something red streaked past his eyes in a blink. Everything around him began to flow, impossibly, as if the world had slipped into slow motion.
…Huh?
As the runner turned his head, his eye shield met Gary's gaze dead-on. In the same instant, Gary confirmed it — that odd little smile from before was still there.
Swoosh.
Gary stretched out his hand. Just a little more and he'd—
Sliiide.
His black glove brushed the crimson jersey. Then the distance exploded between them in a heartbeat, knocking his hand away.
“…Fuck!”
Fast. No — too fast.
Granted, he'd been baited by the play design and dragged toward the sideline for a beat. But Gary Zamond was confident he could cover a running back one-on-one. His ability and his craft were that far above the rest — and his opponent was nothing but a freshman.
That confidence was precisely what doomed him.
FWAAAM!!
Krakrakrakrak!
The moment Gary lost containment, the Bruins' defensive front simply caved in. The cornerbacks, a beat too late, peeled off their receivers and gave chase — but Alabama wasn't content to sit back and watch.
“RUUUN!”
“Go! GO!”
Away from the ball-carrier, ferocious battles erupted at every corner of the field.
“Hup!”
“Get him!”
Throwing off Alabama's blocks, clawing forward, two Bruins finally arrived at the running back's heels. Twenty yards already conceded. We stopped him here at least, they thought, and allowed themselves a breath of relief.
SKRRRT!
Jaehyuk slammed on a monstrous, insane brake — bleeding his overwhelming speed from full sprint down to zero in a single stride, a movement so violent it seemed his legs might tear apart at the seams. The two defenders lunging at him lost every trace of their footing and toppled over each other, comically tangled, face-first into the turf.
Thump-thump.
Why? Why did it feel like this?
Jaehyuk standing perfectly still, the Bruins' players still chasing at his back. Why on earth was anticipation welling up inside them from a picture like this?
The crowd didn't know. Alabama's players didn't know. Neither the coaches nor the staff. Nor the broadcast crew, nor the millions watching at home.
And yet, somehow — every one of them held their breath, eyes fixed on Jaehyuk's next move.
And then, in a flash!
Screeeech—.
Jaehyuk dropped into his stance as if lining up for a hundred-meter dash, while the defenders were nearly upon him.
FWAAAM!!
With an explosive start, a red line etched itself across the ground. The defenders — a hand's breadth from swallowing him up — flailed their arms at him, desperately grasping at air.
Their hands touched nothing but an afterimage.
Fwat!
He slipped the last remaining safety with a spin and strolled, unhurried, into the end zone.
“…Son of a bitch.”
Gary, who had been staring blankly at that receding back ever since the moment he lost him, swore without realizing it.
The Red Line.
The strongest running back in high school —
becoming the strongest running back in college football.