A Senior's Dinner and the Permanent Captain
After wrapping up my cooldown routine and a shower, I headed to the dining hall.
The senior players were already there waiting.
Since the game had just ended, the place was buzzing with people.
The players were posing for photos and signing autographs, soaking up the cheers of students as if they'd just met celebrities.
It's Saturday. Why are there so many people?
Must be because of the game, right?
Students who'd used their student IDs to sneak onto campus grounds were swarming in droves.
"Huh?! It's Kim Jaehyuk!"
"What? Did you say Kim Jaehyuk?"
My arrival set the crowd off all over again.
The way they came charging at me was honestly a little terrifying.
"Ugh."
Not that I could just ignore my fans.
In the end I got cornered and was stuck dealing with them one by one, until the seniors came to my rescue.
"You only fly around on the field, huh? Out here you're a total baby chick!"
"Hahaha. Now you finally feel like a freshman."
Only after enduring their teasing-that-wasn't-really-teasing did I manage to break free.
"So, where are we eating?"
"The buffet?"
"Hmm, that place is way too loud."
"True. Jaehyuk would just get mobbed again and end up not eating at all. Kuk kuk."
Alabama's campus dining was anchored by a buffet-style restaurant called The Fresh Food Company.
Truthfully, there were all kinds of eateries on campus—from that buffet, to Lakeside Dining where you could eat in peace, to Burke Dining with its traditional, local-style menu, not to mention a whole row of franchise restaurants.
Of all of them, we headed to Lakeside. It seemed like it'd be less crowded than the others.
Even as we walked, the cheers of people—Alabama students, that is—kept ringing out around us.
It felt like one big festival, except they seemed to be celebrating and enjoying themselves even more than we were.
Is it really that fun for them?
Using our football win as an excuse, it looked like they were the ones partying on our behalf.
Somehow we made it to the restaurant, where Ryan recommended the menu to me.
"This one, and this one. And for the drink, this one—no contest."
I wasn't picky about food, so I just ordered as he suggested.
"So. What's this all about, anyway? Calling me out right after the game."
Trevor answered.
"The season's about half over, so we figured we'd finally grab a meal together. We've never even hung out or eaten once, you know."
"That's fair."
"And like you've probably guessed already, this is our last season."
While Trevor was talking, a waiter came by, took our order, and left.
Trevor picked up where he'd left off.
"Next year, we're gone. But we'll still be Crimson Tide."
"?"
What was he getting at?
When I stared at him as if to say go on, the rest of the seniors spoke up with serious faces.
"Jaehyuk, because you joined the Tide, we've been able to rebuild a new dynasty."
"You could call us jumping the gun, but from where we're standing, with you on our side we've got a real shot at the conference title."
Wasn't that just stating the obvious?
They said it so gravely that for a second I thought I'd misheard them.
"Winning's a given, isn't it?"
"Puhaha. Right. You've earned the right to say that. But for us, it's different."
A brief silence.
Then Trevor continued.
"Next year, it'll be on you to lead the Tide."
The voice of a captain, dead serious.
He started counting off, one by one.
"Danny, Jaden, Ty, Green, Ryan, Tim, Jahim, Sean, Justin, Jalen, Domani, Xavian—and me."
Hearing it laid out like that, there sure were a lot of senior starters.
So next year, all of them would be gone.
"Of course, we've got some monsters coming up behind us too. Not just you—Marcus, Luke, Isaiah Horton, Justin, Keon, and more. They might end up even better than we were."
I nodded along at Trevor's words.
Even I, who had a terrible time matching faces to names, remembered every single guy he'd just listed.
They were legitimately skilled.
Some of them I was even close with.
"But the real reason we called you out here to talk like this is simple—because in football, at the end of the day, winning is everything."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Honestly, before you got here, the mood on this team was awful. The infighting never stopped. Because of that, a few of the original starters even transferred away."
That was when Jaden, who'd been listening quietly beside us, jumped in—my weight-room partner from the training facility.
"You probably felt it too, Jaehyuk, but the air around here changed after that scrimmage against North Carolina at Hills. If you hadn't come out and put on that incredible showing, we'd still be stuck in that ugly atmosphere."
"Was it like that?"
Truthfully, I'd been too buried in training to notice anything.
I had to adjust to my completely new college life and the training regimen, memorize an entirely new playbook cover to cover before the season started, and keep on top of my schoolwork at the same time, so······.
"Anyway, that's where this connects. A player's whole reason for existing is winning. If you can't win, the best locker room in the world means nothing. Flip it around, though, and if you just keep winning, the atmosphere fixes itself sooner or later."
"In that sense, Jaehyuk, you joining our Tide made a genuinely massive impact."
Right then, the food arrived.
The waitress set down our plates, gave us a wink, and left a dish none of us had even ordered.
"It's on the house. Thank you so much for the win today, boys."
"Thank you."
For a while, everyone dug into their food and the conversation died down, which gave me time to think.
My sense of pride in the team had always been faint.
Back in high school, when I first started, it had been for me and me alone.
But at some point, I'd started caring about the team.
Trevor was right.
A player's worth had to be proven through victory.
But in football, winning alone was next to impossible.
I knew better than anyone just how far I could fly and crawl.
And yet winning by myself, all alone? Absolutely not.
Just look at today's game—yeah, I'd torn it apart, but what if my teammates hadn't been there?
In the end, team was just another word for victory.
And since victory was what proved a player's worth, it was something I could never afford to let slip.
"That's actually what we wanted to talk about. First of all, we owe you an apology."
"An apology?"
"The truth is, Coach DeBoer and us seniors had a discussion—about next season's captaincy."
"And why is that an apology?"
Why would they owe me an apology?
"You know how it works, Jaehyuk. For the Tide, we first select a leadership group of captain candidates, and then the captains are decided by a vote. And, well... unfortunately, you're not on the ballot this time."
"Wait, that's what you're apologizing for?"
I asked, dumbfounded.
I mean, I was still a freshman.
When September came, a huge wave of freshmen had enrolled alongside me, but not a single one of them had played in a game.
I was the only freshman actually seeing the field.
And on top of that, they wanted me as a captain candidate?
Not that I wanted any of that anyway.
I was already run off my feet just managing my own business—what did I care about some frozen-over captaincy?
"Considering everything you've contributed to this team······."
"Hey, Trevor. Sorry to cut you off, but you do remember I'm a freshman, right?"
"Right. Honestly, that's exactly why you got cut from the ballot."
"Good, you know it well. So why are you apologizing for it?"
"Well, we just... worried you might feel slighted······."
What on earth did their image of me look like, that they thought I'd be hurt over missing the captain ballot?
When I burst out laughing in sheer disbelief, Ryan snickered.
"See! I told you! Jaehyuk doesn't care about that stuff. The way I see it, all Jaehyuk wants is to be recognized as the absolute best on pure skill! He's the same breed as me!"
Why am I the same breed as you, you airhead?
Still, he wasn't wrong.
What I cared about wasn't titles or positions.
Just being the best.
Becoming the best in this industry was my goal.
Sorry to say it, but even the college careers they treasured so dearly were, to me, nothing more than a stepping-stone.
"Still, a guy like Jaehyuk could totally make Permanent Captain, right?! Am I wrong?"
Danny, who'd somehow finished his entire meal already, looked around the table seeking everyone's agreement.
Permanent Captain? Now what's that supposed to be?
"Aw, come on. Permanent Captain is a stretch······."
"Hey! We're sitting here apologizing because we couldn't even get him on the captain ballot, and you're telling me there's something he can't become?"
"Well, if you think about it, actual captain is the harder job, so Permanent Captain······but when you weigh the symbolism, it's kind of murky."
In the end, exasperated, I asked them myself.
"What the heck is a Permanent Captain?"
"You know Alabama plays its last game of every season against the Auburn Tigers, right? Our biggest rival."
"I know."
The biggest game on the Alabama Crimson Tide calendar, played over Thanksgiving.
The matchup against Auburn was so storied it had its own name—the Iron Bowl.
From what I'd heard, the rivalry ran so deep that families split down the middle over it.
The entire state of Alabama essentially divided into red versus orange.
The two schools alternated hosting every year, and this year it just happened to be Auburn's turn at home.
"When the Iron Bowl ends, the players hold a separate vote to choose the player who showed the best leadership and the best play that year. That's the Permanent Captain."
"Their nameplate gets carved right into the outer wall of Bryant–Denny Stadium!"
So that tradition existed too.
The more you peeled this school back, the more kept coming out of it—like an onion.
"So in a word, you're voting on which player gets his name carved into the wall?"
"Honestly, if you put it that simply I'd love to nitpick, but sure—that's the gist of it."
Trevor nodded.
Then he cracked a smile.
"If we can just win this Iron Bowl, this might be the first freshman nameplate in team history."
"There's never been a freshman?"
"Starters who are freshmen are rare to begin with, and becoming Permanent Captain on top of that is a whole other mountain. There's only ever been one sophomore."
"Ooh, who was it?"
Now this had me curious.
A sophomore Permanent Captain, huh.
"John Mitchell, in the early seventies. The first Black player in Alabama history—and the only sophomore ever elected Permanent Captain."
"Whoa, okay, that's actually legendary."
The first Black player, and a Permanent Captain as a sophomore?
Considering the era, the fact that a Black player earned Permanent Captain back then felt genuinely, sincerely remarkable.
"Honestly? Part of why he got it was because he was the first Black player. Black buff, you know."
Danny said it out of nowhere.
If a white player had said it, he'd have been instantly dogpiled for racism—but Danny was Black.
"Huh?"
"And Jaehyuk's not exactly the first Asian player, but you're still right up there in that same tier, aren't you?"
"Kyaa. Congratulations, Jaehyuk. You make Permanent Captain, you're buying the drinks."
The whole table had suddenly turned into a roast session at my expense.
Looking around now, the table was about eighty percent Black, a handful of white guys, and exactly one Asian—me.
John Mitchell had been the first Black player in Crimson Tide history, and now Black players made up the clear majority.
Something about that felt kind of wonderful.
"You guys better stuff the ballot box for me."
"What, lobbying already?"
"Save the sweet talk until you've demolished Auburn!"
"If you can just break Auburn, I'll vote for you a hundred times! Hahaha!"
These guys were obsessed with Auburn.
Auburn, huh. Fine—I'll carry us to the championship too.
As your graduation present.
Week 7. Third Saturday of October. Mississippi State Bulldogs. Home game.
Same SEC conference.
Final score 48:10—a demolition. Seven wins, zero losses.
Week 8. BYE WEEK.
A full week of rest to recharge.
Then Week 9. First Saturday of November. Kentucky Wildcats. Away game, in Lexington.
A road trip for the first time in a while.
The SEC East Wildcats got smashed 68:6.
The highest score of the season to date, extending the streak to eight straight wins.
With his overwhelming rushing performance, Jaehyuk racked up seven touchdowns—a career high—while breaking his single-game rushing yards record yet again.
By now, there wasn't a football fan in the country who didn't know his name.
And then, at last, Week 10 arrived.
The opponent: the LSU Tigers, the team everyone called the strongest of the strong.
LSU was seen as the brake that might finally stop the Alabama Crimson Tide's runaway win streak.
What's more, the LSU Tigers were undefeated themselves.
Unbeaten versus unbeaten.
All eyes were locked on the matchup.
Even NFL fans refused to miss the Crimson Tide–LSU Tigers game.
It was, for all practical purposes, a game that would decide the conference title.
"Well, well. Look at this—all the familiar faces in one place."
"Haha. Didn't expect to see you here, Ben."
"Shouldn't you all be retired by now? Why are you still prowling the sidelines?"
"That's rich coming from you, Jeremy."
And countless NFL personnel had come out to watch this game in person.
With the two teams widely regarded as the strongest in the world right now, it was the natural course of things.
And then······.
"So I finally get to see the famous Redline with my own eyes."
"I've already seen him live. I was at the Texas Longhorns game. The sheer thrill of it······."
"You mean Kim Jaehyuk? To think he's only a freshman—it's astounding. His future is terrifying to imagine."
The first tremors of a superstar's birth were rippling through the football world.
This Asian player had already, with the mere handful of games he'd played, surpassed the majority of running backs in recorded history.
And he was a freshman, barely through the door of college.
When you considered the records still waiting for him to pile up, the scale of it was staggering.
"But LSU is no ordinary opponent this time."
"No, they're not—their franchise star is alive and well."
"The two-way player following in Travis Hunter's footsteps. His clash with Jaehyuk is going to be something else."
"Which of them is the true star player who will define this season!"
And so the Week 10 game that everyone had been waiting for.
Its curtain was about to rise.