"It Just Means More."
"It Just Means More."
It was the famous slogan of the SEC.
The conference wore its differences like a badge of honor, boasting the fiercest pride of any conference in the nation.
Every year, it sent more players to the NFL Draft than any other. The list of first-round picks never failed to be lined end to end with names out of the SEC.
Which meant the SEC was the surest gateway to the NFL—and the war zone where future superstars collided more brutally than anywhere else.
Alabama, Georgia, LSU, Florida, Auburn, Texas A&M, and most recently, the newcomers Texas and Oklahoma... Giants of college football whose mere names made the chest swell.
Most universities in the SEC owned stadiums with bleachers pushing a hundred thousand seats, and they were packed with fans of fanatical devotion. An ace from another conference all too often found himself reduced to a mediocre player on an SEC roster. That was how vast the gulf was—even within the same FBS, the SEC played on an entirely different level.
"He's running! He's running! He's RUUNNIINGG!"
"TOUCHDOOOWN! Touchdown! That's his FIFTH touchdown of the day!"
"Is this even real?! A freshman, straight out of high school, has FIVE touchdowns in his very first game—the season opener, his debut!"
"This has never happened in the history of football!! A true freshman—emphasis on true freshman—unleashing a rushing blitz from the very first game of his career!"
CJ Baxter wiped a hand down his face as he watched the footage, a sound of genuine awe escaping him.
"My eyes didn't lie to me. Whew."
He'd already sensed the kid was something special when they'd crossed paths at the Nike camp. Call it the way a master recognizes another master. It had taken only a handful of exchanged movements for Baxter to catch a glimpse of Jaehyuk's astonishing talent.
And now, rewatching Alabama's season opener for the dozenth time or more, he felt goosebumps rising all over again.
"Still, that was the Bruins they were playing. A team that barely just migrated over from the Pac-12 to the Big Ten. Alabama's been in a slump lately, sure, but they're not about to lose a non-conference game."
A Longhorns teammate next to him offered the words. But they were words, and only words.
In truth, it was closer to self-hypnosis.
Everyone on the Longhorns knew. They knew that the Alabama team they'd face tomorrow was nothing like the Alabama of old. What staggered them was that the transformation had been wrought by a single running back.
"Right. He's just a freshman. No match for Baxter."
"There was some luck in that first game. He didn't even suit up for the second one, did he?"
"As long as we manage our condition, we win this going away. Alabama's got nothing going for them but their offense anyway."
The Texas Longhorns currently stood at 2-0. Better still, one of those wins had come in conference play—meaning they'd already beaten an SEC team. Alabama, by contrast, had played two games against comparatively weak non-conference opponents.
"We ought to teach that freshman what the SEC is all about."
Half joke. Half dead serious. That was the cry of the Longhorns.
And yet—why?
The goosebumps wouldn't fade.
Hmm...
His finely tuned instincts were telling him something. The player on that screen was not one who would stop at the college stage. To shut him down, you'd need, at minimum, an NFL-caliber defense.
Heh.
At that thought, Baxter let out a laugh despite himself. No way. Not even that. He didn't believe college football bowed to the NFL, exactly—but the league was a dimension further advanced. Stopping one Jaehyuk? Their own defense was more than enough.
"Let's give the freshman a good, hard lesson. He's only played non-conference games, so he doesn't really know what level this place is at. Time he found out properly!"
"Heh heh heh. Now you're talking."
"Tomorrow can't come soon enough!"
Riding the wave of everyone's shouts, Baxter squared his shoulders as well. He granted that the opponent was good. But the Texas Longhorns were no pushover either.
And with good reason: the strongest team in the SEC in '24 had been the Texas Longhorns themselves. A monster squad that had gone 7-1 against conference opponents. They'd fallen in the playoff semifinal, yes, but they'd carried terrifying momentum all season. Last year had ended respectably too—another playoff berth. Painfully, they'd lost to the Georgia Bulldogs in the quarterfinal, but even among the SEC's perennial playoff contenders, they ranked near the top.
Judged purely on last season's play, Alabama's defeat had been all but certain. So it was hardly strange that everyone was brimming with confidence.
Baxter predicted victory.
"Hook 'em Horns!"
"Gore 'em with those horns!"
"Stampede 'em!! Haha!"
At last, the long-awaited game day had arrived.
Today's matchup would unfold in Austin, Texas—home turf of the Longhorns. The venue: Darrell K Royal–Texas Memorial Stadium, a colossal arena capable of swallowing more than a hundred thousand spectators.
In other words, Alabama would be playing in front of roughly a hundred thousand enemies.
So this is it...
DeBoer kept his face carefully blank, but worry churned beneath it. His gaze kept drifting, again and again, toward Jaehyuk as he readied himself for the game.
"Mm."
He couldn't hide the flicker of concern a second time. This was Jaehyuk's first road game. And the stands would inevitably be flooded with Texas Longhorns faithful. It would be his first experience facing down a hundred thousand people.
DeBoer wasn't the only one worried, either. Most of the coaching staff—even his own teammates—were anxious on Jaehyuk's behalf. No matter how gifted a player was, a hundred thousand booing, hostile fans were a bitter drink to swallow. And all the more so for someone facing that kind of hostility for the very first time.
"Keep your head in the game, rookie."
Trevor Johnson, the captain, clapped Jaehyuk on the shoulder as he said it.
Jaehyuk only pulled a face like the whole thing was absurd.
"Why are you busting my chops? You're the one who's nervous, aren't you?"
"What?"
"I'm fine. It's not the championship—it's one game. You really think I'd be scared of that?"
Under Jaehyuk's vaguely pitying stare, the whole room faltered. Then Jaehyuk finished his preparations, rose from his seat, and thumped his chest.
"Nobody stops me. Go on—tell every last one of them to come at me at once. I'll demolish the lot."
"Pfft—HAHAHA!!"
Trevor burst out laughing and nodded.
"That's right! Who in the hell could stop our Tide?!"
"Let's snap the Longhorns' horns clean off!"
"Let's go, Tide! Roll Tide!"
Jaehyuk's confidence sent morale surging through the Crimson Tide locker room. Watching it all, DeBoer and the coaching staff could only conclude—once again—that this kid was truly something else.
An Asian athlete clawing his way onto the football stage—Jaehyuk must have endured discrimination beyond anything they'd witnessed, countless slights that never surfaced in the open. And yet that unbroken will. That presence that swept everyone up in its wake.
Once, when he'd spoken with Nick Saban, the old coach had said it plainly.
That kid Jaehyuk... has an aura.
He wasn't wrong.
DeBoer had seen a handful of players carrying that kind of aura over the years. And every single time, they had become the kind of player who carved his name into history.
Jaehyuk would be one of them. Of that, DeBoer was certain. Because this wasn't a question of athletic talent at all. It was a matter of inborn temperament—of nature itself.
"We're taking the field!"
The visiting team entered first, as away teams do—Alabama marching out ahead of the home side.
The moment they passed through the long tunnel and onto the field, a thunderous wall of boos came crashing in from every direction.
"BOOOOOOO!!"
"Hook 'em Horns!"
"Hook 'em!"
"Horns!"
It was Jaehyuk's first road game. And yet, somehow, he only felt more electric.
"Heh heh."
The thought that he was about to shut every one of those mouths sent a thrill down his spine. Wasn't that what sports were all about? Nothing got Jaehyuk's blood up like the sight of an opponent's face going sour—and here were nearly a hundred thousand of those faces at once?!
"Yeah, yeah! That's the stuff! Keep it coming!"
Jaehyuk waved at the stands, and the crowd answered by turning the volume up another notch.
"That little son of a—!!"
"Drop dead, you scrawny Asian freak!"
"Hope a tackle breaks you in half!!"
To the torrent of venom, Jaehyuk simply pulled off his helmet, grinned, and waved again—looking for all the world like a man having the time of his life. Even his own teammates stood frozen, staring at him in a daze.
Does this guy have multiple lives or something?
The Longhorns surely knew what he was doing, too. That taunt guaranteed a rough, chippy game to come.
Just can't afford to get injured.
With that thought, Alabama's entrance concluded—and then, bathed in a dazzling parade of lights and roaring music, the Longhorns took the field. Bellowing war cries, they charged out like a stampede of buffalo. And as each one ran past, he made a point of turning his head to look at Jaehyuk.
You're dead.
Every gaze seemed to say exactly that.
With both teams on the field, the coin toss followed—and as luck would have it, Alabama won and chose to receive. They'd open the game on offense.
"Jaehyuk, sit this one out."
DeBoer had spoken, bracing for the worst. Jaehyuk shook his head.
"I'm good."
"If you're out there, you're a target. Even if you're not carrying the ball, they could light you up with a tackle."
"Don't worry. Trust me just this once—let's go."
So confident was Jaehyuk's voice that DeBoer wavered, deliberated for a moment, and finally gave in. But he had absolutely no intention of calling a run. If they ran the ball now, Jaehyuk would be turned into dried fish jerky.
And so Jaehyuk took the field. Over the headset of quarterback Ty Simpson came DeBoer's command:
Pass.
A passing play. Ty had already guessed as much, but he frowned all the same.
They'll be expecting it too.
A telegraphed play call never worked at this level. That was college football for you.
Ty was still weighing his options, about to flash the confirmation sign, when—
"Hey, Ty!"
Jaehyuk called out as he headed to his spot. There would be no audible protection this game either.
"We've got to hit them where it hurts. You know that."
With just those few words, Jaehyuk slipped naturally into his backfield stance. And that sweet, dangerous whisper shook Ty's resolve to its core.
"We're going run."
What?! Absolutely not! If Jaehyuk takes the ball and starts running now—!!
But the fifteen-second communication window snapped shut, and the game was underway.
"Falcon! Left 80! Left! Left!..."
The quarterback's play call rolled out across the line. The moment his teammates heard it, shock rippled through them—but they buried it, settling into their stances without a flicker. As each man committed his assigned route to memory, Ty finished the cadence at last.
"Reeeady—! Seeet—! Hut!"
Thwack!
The game's first snap. The ball on the turf shot from the hands of center and captain Trevor straight into those of quarterback Ty Simpson—and in the same instant, Alabama's offense exploded into motion, exactly as called.
Bam! Crash!
Wham! Crack!
Savage collisions detonated all across the line, and a lane began to open as if on its own. But the middle was the feint. The truth of the play lived on the sideline.
The receivers, who had sprinted out as if to catch a pass, shifted direction in the same heartbeat—as if reading one another's minds—and slammed into the second-level defenders with blocks.
The defense scrambled, blindsided by a play they'd never imagined. And then, down the corridor the receivers had carved open, something red appeared.
"HE'S RUNNING!!!"
The roar tore through the stadium. But the Longhorns were still in chaos.
Da-da-da-dak!
In a blink, Jaehyuk was knifing down the sideline. Alabama's first line of defenders, hoodwinked by the linemen's fake push up the middle, had spent their strength on the wrong battle and mistimed everything. Jaehyuk blew straight past them and hit the second level—only to find those defenders already locked up by Alabama's receivers.
"Ugh!"
"MOVE!!"
It bought him only the smallest sliver of time. Stopping a man was always harder than running free, and they couldn't hold their blocks forever. But that sliver was all Jaehyuk needed.
Tatatak!
He surged forward without breaking stride, defenders scrambling after him a beat too late. And still ahead of him loomed the last line of resistance—the third-level safeties.
Yet somehow, impossibly, every Alabama player on the field felt a strange calm settle over them.
Ah. That's a touchdown.
CRACK!!
The sleek defender who stepped up to cut Jaehyuk off ate a stiff arm full in the face. Jaehyuk's forearm, swinging with monstrous force, sent the man flying outright.
"Holy..."
"......"
The Longhorns linemen who had given up the chase simply stood there watching, souls leaving their bodies. One more defender managed to latch onto Jaehyuk from behind—but Jaehyuk toyed with him, a freakish deceleration followed by an explosive burst, and the man grasped at empty air.
Jaehyuk was only running the lane his blockers painted. To everyone else, though, it looked like pure, overwhelming genius at work. As he shed one man, two more gave chase from behind.
WHAM!!
And then, at last—Jaehyuk took the hit. A brutal, full-bodied tackle.
"Oof!"
"Hahaha! Serves you right!!"
The Longhorns crowd erupted in celebration. But...
"?!!"
"Why isn't he going down?!"
Hit by two tacklers in succession, Jaehyuk had teetered on the edge of collapse—and then planted one hand on the turf and pushed himself upright, never touching the ground with anything else.
Insane balance. The impacts should have shattered through his whole body, yet Jaehyuk was up and moving as if nothing had happened. It was the tacklers, instead, who lay sprawled on the grass, unable to gather themselves after the collision. One of them strained out a desperate hand and caught Jaehyuk's leg as he sprang forward—and Jaehyuk simply shook him off, flicking the grip away like brushing off dust.
"......"
"......"
"......"
At the absurd, unbelievable spectacle, every soul in the stadium stood with their mouth hanging open, staring at the field. The jumbotron had zoomed in on Jaehyuk's every movement, which only made this impossible feat more vivid, more undeniable.
Bam!
Even so, a defender who had chased him down at last managed to hurl his entire body at Jaehyuk and drag him to the ground. Just eighteen yards short of the end zone.
Jaehyuk had forced his way through a staggering sixty-two yards.
"What... did we just watch?"
"......"
"Wow, no, huh? Wha—wow..."
The blazing heat of the crowd's cheers had gone ice cold.
Jaehyuk, who had absorbed one last violent tackle at the end of the run, rose to his feet with the ball in hand as though nothing had happened and looked around. Then he raised the ball, leveled it at the stunned stands, and bellowed:
"THIS is what the best running back in the world looks like!!!"
Jaehyuk's first conference game. And on its very first offensive drive, he had burned his image into every mind in the stadium.