Except One Game (1)

※ Secondary: A term in football referring to the defensive positions, synonymous with Defensive Back. One theory holds that the name arose because these players run behind the scrimmage line, which is considered the frontmost point of the defense. The positions included are safeties and cornerbacks.

#. November 27, 2020

#-1. Seneca, South Carolina, USA

#-2. Hampton Inn & Suites

#-3. Room 1403

We had just arrived at the hotel. The room I'd been assigned was number 1403.

Click.

"Hey."

"Warrup, D. This your bed?"

"Yeah."

"Then I'll take this side."

Whenever we left for an away game, I always shared a room with Darnell. The reason was simple — he was the quiet type. Because a starting quarterback's sleep quality the night before a game has an enormous effect on his performance, the team made a point of pairing players without disruptive sleep habits with quiet roommates. Some fussy quarterbacks demand a room entirely to themselves. I wasn't quite at that level.

"Ahhh — this is the best part of the day."

"Haha. Getting out of the suit?"

"Yup. I'm a Hawaii boy, after all."

"My mom's totally obsessed with that about you."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"I told you, didn't I? I said that's how it'd be."

Hawaiians, unless it's for work or a formal occasion, hate dressing up. Shirt, shorts, and flip-flops — that's practically the national uniform. And honestly, it's what I find most comfortable too.

I changed clothes and checked the time. 3:20 in the afternoon. Ten minutes until the meeting. Time to get moving.

"Let's go."

"Yeah."

Together with Darnell, who set down the Bible he'd been reading, we headed to where the team meeting was being held.

"Here's the schedule!"

Normally, when we traveled for an away game, the day before was reserved for sightseeing. In towns with nothing to see, we'd do group activities instead — the movie theater, bowling, that kind of thing. But with COVID, none of that was even a dream. Everything had to happen inside the hotel.

"Is there a pool table here?"

"Probably?"

"Damn it. Nothing to do."

"How about reading a book?"

At my suggestion, Zamir stared at me like he didn't even know who I was. It wasn't as if I was bragging.

"What are you going to do?"

"Gotta look at the Play Book."

"Damn. So glad I didn't play quarterback."

After Zamir shook his head and wandered off, I stayed where I was. When the meeting ended, only the three traveling quarterbacks remained in the room, and soon the offensive staff, including Coach Monken, filed in. Equipment was set up quickly, and a video began playing on the screen at the front.

"Alright, let's begin."

"Yes, sir—"

The area we intended to attack against Clemson was their loosened secondary. Up through last year, Clemson had maintained a top-5 national ranking in passing yards allowed, but this season they'd plummeted more than fifty spots to 59th — just an ordinary backfield defense. The prevailing assessment was that losing Tanner Muse, drafted by the Raiders, and K'Von Wallace, who went to the Eagles, had hurt them badly.

Still, there were players worth watching out for. Number 24, for example. Nolan Turner. Clemson's free safety.

Among the secondary positions, the free safety is often called the "quarterback of the backfield." He makes his own reads from the deepest part of the defense, which is why qualities like the ability to read a game and sheer versatility matter so much.

"Doesn't look like a stopper to me."

"Right. More of a tackler."

Depending on playing style, the secondary is divided into stoppers — those who shut down the advance itself — and tacklers, who can't stop the advance but bring opponents down with the tackle.

And yet, Nolan Turner...

"...He can't even tackle?"

"Haha. Let's keep watching."

"Yes, sir."

He was a textbook player who defended "with his head." His physique and athletic ability looked lacking. He clearly tried hard, and that effort had produced some good results, but he seemed to be trying to defend from too high a position, and his understanding of zone coverage appeared somewhat deficient.

It didn't look like he'd be that hard to exploit.

"Good. That's it for today."

"Thank you for your work."

By the time the meeting ended, it was five o'clock. About an hour remained until dinner. I briefly considered a nap, then chose to study instead.

Back in my room, I spread out the Play Book and copied the plays onto the notepad beside me. The routes the receivers ran. The shape of the O-line's blocks. I even recorded minute details like how many steps a receiver took on a specific route.

A quarterback can't simply memorize the plays. He has to understand them completely.

"South Light. Clamp. Fake 45 Slant. Zebra Highway..."

I knew how loud it was out there right now. I knew how much attention tomorrow's game was drawing. But for any of it to mean something, I had to be the winner tomorrow. That was the obvious plan — and for that, studying was essential.

"Pistol. Pasta. A-Left Stop. 322 Scat..."

#. November 28, 2020

#-1. Clemson, South Carolina, USA

#-2. Clemson University

I'd expected it to be quiet, since we weren't rivals on the level of Alabama — but apparently that was my mistake. From the moment the bus carrying us into Clemson's campus neared the stadium, a familiar chant echoed from every direction, set to WWE wrestler Kurt Angle's theme song, "Medal."

"YOU— SUCK!!"

"YOU— SUCK!!"

It was aimed at our Georgia team — and, beyond that, at me personally. The picket signs made that plain enough.

'Moi is no king.'

'Trevor Lawrence rules.'

'Moi, you freaking suck.'

'Hawaii hick, drop dead.'

Unbelievable. This popularity of mine just refuses to cool off. Only after we passed through the gate into the visitors' locker room could I finally shake off the rabid fans (?).

"Shiiiit. It's the size of a rat's ass."

"Was our visitors' locker room like this?"

"No. Bigger than this."

"Shiiiit."

It goes without saying that visitors' locker rooms have relatively poor facilities. But since a university's reputation was on the line, most schools at least kept up appearances. Clemson's visitors' locker room, though, was the worst. It was so small that a single backpack filled it up. In the end, my teammates and I had to leave part of our bags on the floor, which only made the cramped space feel more suffocating.

What a perfect welcome, really. And here I was trying to get in a good mood.

That was sarcasm, of course. But we enjoyed ourselves regardless of it all. We put music on, changed into our practice gear, sang along at the top of our lungs, and danced. What was it again — the Kalihi hip-shake? No way—

"LET'S GO—-!!!!"

Once we were fully dressed in our warmups, I let out one great shout and stepped into the corridor.

Clemson Tigers' home stadium, Memorial Stadium, holds up to 81,500 people. I walked out onto the field and lifted my head, looking around in every direction. On the second level of the north stands, a line of text caught my eye.

Welcome to Death Valley.

The east stands of Memorial Stadium are built at a remarkably steep angle, and from up there, the field supposedly feels like a gorge — which is how the nickname "Death Valley" was born. It also carries the implication that this is where teams who come to their home stadium go to die.

The Hill, the grassy bank beneath the scoreboard. The tiger statue in the northwest corner. I took it all in, piece by piece. The weather was a touch chilly, but nothing that would affect how we played.

And on one side of the stadium, a broadcast booth had been set up. ESPN's College GameDay booth.

After finishing our first warm-up, we returned to the locker room. Then came the taping, the lacing of the shoes, the putting on of the game uniforms. The coaches raised their voices along the way to stoke our fighting spirit, and the head coach came over to tell me there was no need to feel pressure — if I just played the way I always did, everything would stay exactly the same.

Everything staying the same meant we'd win again today.

When I passed through the corridor and stepped back onto the field, I spotted familiar faces. I walked toward one of them. Kevin Garnett. Former NBA All-Star.

"How you feeling?"

"Feeling great."

"I was born in South Carolina, but today I'm rooting for you. You know what I mean?"

"Yes, sir."

Kevin Garnett wasn't the only famous face. There was another — and this time, someone I genuinely loved. Paul Wight. If I put it that way, most people wouldn't know who I meant. You had to call him Big Show.

"Whoa—wow. I'm a huge fan."

"Right back at you."

Beyond them, I also exchanged greetings with Rob Lowe, memorable for his role as the press aide in the drama The West Wing, and Ryan Seacrest, one of America's most famous broadcasters. Ryan Seacrest in particular was a true Bulldog — born in Atlanta and a UGA graduate.

"Go blow Clemson up."

"That's the plan."

The last person I met was Maria Taylor. Also a UGA graduate, and once a truly outstanding volleyball player. She now covered SEC games for ESPN, and she'd come over to ask me a question right then.

"I heard your hip's been bothering you. How is it?"

"It's better."

"So you're in perfect condition?"

"I'm sore here and there. You know how it is — football players, always something. So yeah, I'd say I'm perfect."

"Got it. Can I use this conversation later?"

"Of course."

"Thanks. This one's off the record — go blow Clemson up."

"Just watch me."

That someone of Maria Taylor's caliber was serving as the sideline reporter said everything about how much attention this game was commanding. Once the final warm-up was complete, we filed back into the locker room, and the head coach raised his voice.

"As you all know, this game has drawn enormous attention!! In a game like this, there is only one thing you must remember!! Do not try to be a star!! We are at our strongest when we are a team!! When we are one, nothing can frighten us!! I'll say it again!! Do not try to be a star!! Do your job, each of you, from your own position!! That is the only thing that matters!! If you're ready for that, then get out on that field right now and crush them!! Are you ready to follow me!!"

Every single time, I felt it anew — the coach's ability to motivate was something special. At the end of the corridor we waited for the moment we'd sprint onto the field, and soon a great voice rang out ahead of us as the line of waiting players steadily grew shorter.

Before I'd come out onto the field earlier, I'd had another video call with my mom. The whole family was gathered in the restaurant. The walls inside were covered wall to wall with signs cheering me on, and outside, people had run extension cords out front to keep their TVs on, ready to watch today's game. The scene that came to mind — small clusters of them gathered at intervals, keeping their distance — brought a smile to my face without my even ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠realizing it.

"You smiling?"

"Yes, sir."

"I like that. Your guts have always hung outside your body, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠but in a game like this, that's exactly what you need."

People were saying today's game would post higher ratings than any NCAA National Championship Game played over the past twenty years. And in truth, over the past week I'd seen plenty of proof of it with my own eyes. Knowing full well this was an away game, the alumni association had still decorated the campus inside and out with everything related to today's game — and even now, people would be gathered all over campus, seated in front of TVs.

I didn't want to disappoint the people rooting for me. Everything else could go however it liked; the thought that I was playing for them remained the same. And not wanting to disappoint them was, in the end, another way of saying I didn't want to lose face.

A game with my pride on the line. I'm ready. Ready to take the win.

Soon, on the field — Aziz's hand signals came through, telling us we'd won the coin toss.