Let Me Break Through

What happened last year at Bishop Gorman High School was repeating itself today at Bingham.

A national broadcast.

A swarm of NCAA recruiters.

Media figures of every stripe.

People had come from everywhere to lay eyes on the ever-rising star of Dwayne Moi Stone, and Bingham High School's football stadium was packed shoulder to shoulder without an inch of room to spare.

It was the kind of atmosphere that easily winds up high schoolers.

Bingham's head coach preached focus.

"No getting hyped up out there!"

"…."

"If you put on a clown show today, all you'll do is embarrass yourselves in front of the whole country. Is that what you want?"

John Lambourne, fifty-five years old this year, had spent the last thirty-five years coaching at four different schools.

He had been at Bingham since 2000, first as a position coach, then promoted to full head coach after his predecessor Dave Peck stepped down in 2015.

The very next year — last season — he'd led Bingham to a second straight 5A state championship, and he'd built his reputation on squeezing results out of a tight, cohesive team identity rather than any standout individual talent.

And above all.

The defense.

The defensive scheme he'd built together with the team's defensive coordinator, Karl Cloward, was rated among the five best in the entire nation.

On the strength ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of it, Bingham had surrendered only 163 points all of last year, becoming the only team in Utah to allow fewer than 10.0 points per game.

This year was shaping up the same way.

Despite moving up to the tougher 6A division, Bingham was still holding opponents to an average of just 10.3 points per game.

"Make today your moment!"

"Yeah-!"

"Let's Go-!"

"Show D1 who the hell you are!"

John Lambourne fired up his players, and starting quarterback Ryan Wood pumped them up one more time on top of that.

The Bingham players, spirits at full boil, charged out of the locker room, and the stadium erupted into music and roaring cheers all at once.

John Lambourne crossed the field.

And there he met Gavin Travis.

Referees stood nearby.

"Good luck to you."

"Same to you."

The perfunctory greetings and handshake concluded, and Bingham's head coach returned to his sideline.

Karl Cloward soon stepped up beside him.

"We can't let these hick kids run wild on us."

"Of course not."

On pure physical ability alone, the truth was that Kahuku had the edge.

The recruiting numbers said the same.

Hawaii's squad boasted eight seniors rated as 4-Star and 3-Star prospects, while Bingham had exactly one 3-Star and a pair of 2-Stars to show for itself.

And yet.

None of that mattered one bit.

John Lambourne's Bingham had won time and time again regardless of such things, and last season's 14-0 record had come against teams with more raw talent than their own.

Individually, they might come up a little short.

As a team, it was another story.

Defense.

Rushing.

Bingham had honed the fundamentals of high school football to a razor's edge — the textbook game played to perfection — and that was a formula that could beat anyone.

John Lambourne intended to prove it again today.

Exactly so.

An unshakable faith in his defense.

The Bingham head coach's eyes gleamed sharp.

The first half had been downright baffling.

Six penalties. Six.

Fifty yards lost to them outright.

Worse, those blunders came inside the very sequences that should have produced touchdowns — twice in the first quarter alone, mistakes had wiped points off the board, and the whole team began to wobble badly.

The unraveling started with the O-line.

They were helplessly shoved around by Bingham's #50 and #77, and once the line collapsed, Bingham's #38 came free to tackle me twice in the backfield.

With the pocket left unprotected, our offense degenerated into a one-dimensional rushing attack, and with the O-line getting driven clean off the ball, mounting any kind of comeback was out of the question.

Then came the missed kicks, too.

"We played the entire first half like absolute garbage!!"

"…."

"…."

"If this is how you're going to do it, then quit!! FUCK IT!! The O-line never gave the quarterback a pocket to work with!! And what in God's name was that kicking?! You missed THREE kicks!! Two of them were barely past twenty yards!! That goddamn Duke! Fire him tomorrow or I swear I'll throw you out myself!!"

Back in Hawaii, nothing like this had ever happened.

So everyone was probably scrambling, thrown completely off balance.

Coach had never blown up like that before.

Ninety percent of this year's roster were transfers, so most of them had no idea what had gone down at Bishop Gorman last year.

But my friends know it all too well.

They know exactly how badly we botched that first half.

If anything saved us, it was the D-line.

The unit that put a ventilator on a game ruined by receivers dropping even the easiest passes and an O-line getting flattened wholesale — that was our defensive line.

Our pride wasn't just bruised.

It was rotting on the vine.

"The second half has to be different! Or swim your asses back to Hawaii! I did not come all the way to Utah to watch this godforsaken brand of football."

Coach left the locker room first.

And I gathered the players back together.

I was every bit as angry as he was.

But I couldn't show it.

Why?

Because we hadn't scored.

Even if it was down to the O-line's shoddy protection and the receivers' drops, as long as I was the quarterback, the weight of all of it belonged on my shoulders.

"We owe the D-line for the whole first half!"

"…."

"And in the second half, the D-line is going to keep lending us more! Do you understand what I'm saying?! We're a TEAM!! You don't walk off a field still in debt to your brothers!! We settle our debts — every one of them!! So in the second half, get your heads back on straight and play the football we know we can!! And for the love of God, stop taking stupid-ass penalties!! They make me sick!! One, two, three!!"

"RED RAIDERS!!!"

.

(Ian Eagle) — CBS Announcer

"Bingham's first-half defense was simply phenomenal. They've shut out Kahuku High School — Hawaii's most explosive offense — at zero points. Dwayne Moi Stone didn't look bad at all, but the people around this kid clearly need to start giving him some help."

(Spero Dedes) — CBS Announcer

"Judging on the first half alone, Bingham simply looked like the more finished football team. To put it another way — Kahuku's weaknesses have been exposed. Bingham returned nearly all of the core players from last year's championship squad. Kahuku did not."

(Ian Eagle)

"It's still early in the season, so the lack of cohesion is understandable. But given the colossal attention Dwayne Moi Stone is receiving, that first half has to sting."

.

The second half was set to open with Bingham's offense.

And right now, I stood beside Coach.

"What are you proposing?"

"Code Blue."

"…."

Code Blue.

The scheme built around me carrying the ball.

Unlike shouting Blue as an ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠audible at the line, this was a package devoted entirely to my own legs.

"Let me open the gap for us."

My halftime speech had lit a fire under my teammates as best I could, but what we needed was a result people could see with their own eyes.

We're not pros. We're high school kids.

It has to be visceral.

Never letting your will break, all the way to the end?

How many teenagers do you think can actually do that?

More often than not, repeated failure just makes them quit faster.

What this team needs right now is success.

And I had every confidence I could deliver it.

"Enoch has been completely bullied by their D-line today too. He says he can't run the way he does back in Hawaii. Sekope can barely hold the line of scrimmage. So — let me be the one to fix this."

"…Two plays."

"Really?"

"Yes. Two plays to make something happen, or we go back to the original plan."

Two plays.

Six to eight chances, effectively.

More than enough, I figured.

Bingham's drive, starting from their own 30, stalled at our 22-yard line, and our D-line — coming up with another stop — handed the fate of the game over to the O-line.

I turned back toward my offense and shouted.

"Blow this one, and I'll KILL you!!"

With a round of whoops, we took the field.

And quickly huddled up with my teammates.

The current personnel:

Three tight ends.

And two running backs.

No wide receivers.

"Listen up — it's Code Blue."

"You're gonna do it yourself, boss?"

Yeah, man.

That's exactly why — because you guys can't get it done out there.

As my teammates grinned,

I laid out the specifics.

"Don Markham."

"DWPP."

"That's the one. Let's run it right. Let's Go!"

A single clap,

and my teammates broke to their positions.

The name of this play was Don Markham.

A man who changed the history of high school football.

He did away with the split line and developed an offense built around off-tackle power plays, power sweeps, and straps — and it was such a hit that it swept the game with explosive popularity.

And we'd bent it, just slightly.

On the original design, the running back takes the jet sweep handoff and goes. This time, I was the one running it.

"Blue- 50!!"

….

"Set, Set, Hike!!"

I took the snap from under center.

Then turned my body backfield.

I faked the handoff to Trycen Mau, who was pressed right up behind me, and without a beat of hesitation I spun my body to the right and started running.

My vision began to shake.

From the very start, the left side had been engineered to be the weak side.

The O-line's tackle play was also configured to open space on the left, so if everything unfolded as designed, the defense would be stacked to the right.

And just as I'd hoped.

The lane opened.

Gripping the ball tighter in my right hand,

I gave myself over entirely to running.

.

(Ian Eagle)

"Moi takes the snap. Is he handing off? He is NOT — he's keeping it himself! And for some reason, Bingham's right side is standing WIDE open!! The safety has to close that door!! But he's FAST!! Forty yards before you can blink!! Thirty!! Twenty!! Ten!! TOUCHDOWN-!!! OH- MY!! This young man is unbelievably fast!! Most of you already know he's the fastest fifteen-year-old in America!! A 10.01 hundred meters!! The national record holder — Dwayne Moi Stone!!"

(Spero Dedes)

"An eye-opening moment. The very instant the second half began, he went out and unstuck his own suffocating offense with his own two legs. You can read the faces of the NCAA people in the stands. They are, without a doubt, looking downright greedy."

(Ian Eagle)

"Kahuku High School ties the ballgame! It's now 6 to 6, and they'll look to take the lead with the extra point."

.

"ALL DAY!! ALL DAY!!"

"Let's Go-!!"

Peter came charging off the bench,

and we crashed into each other midair.

Luck had smiled on that play, sure.

But luck is part of the game too.

Coach John Morse came over and told me I'd done well.

And Coach, well.

Phi—iit!

"Again. Seriously. Unbelievable."

"…."

Duke, who'd already shanked two field goals in the first half, missed again — and with it went our chance to take the lead.

Coach, absolutely livid, ran Duke off the field.

Duke was trudging toward the locker room.

"Duke's having a rough one today."

"Sigh— and he's actually good. That's the thing."

"I know, right?"

Right now, at Duke's side,

was the special teams coach.

The kid can genuinely kick the cover off the ball.

But being a sophomore seemed to be the stumbling block.

A road game on the mainland.

A national broadcast.

He'd already lived through one nationally televised game, sure.

But with the hostile road environment piled on top, it looks like his nerves just gave way.

So who kicks now?

Sekope?

"Shione!"

Ah.

Shione it is.

A new kicker was settled on in short order,

and now it was time to play defense again.

Bingham's offense leaned mostly on the run, though they mixed in enough throws to their two main receivers.

The quarterback, though, looked average at best.

Not much of an arm.

Our defense had surely noticed it too.

"That one's going long."

Beep!

Bingham's QB Ryan Wood was genuinely excellent at the little things inside the pocket.

The way he handed the ball to his running back, and so on.

He executed all the small, shifty details beautifully.

It was like watching last year's Tua, honestly.

He ran the ball himself quite a bit too, which really did bring Tua's tape to mind — and then, of course, he'd gone and nailed down one fatal flaw on top of it all: the arm.

Bingham's #5 and #7 were clearly talented receivers, but with a weak-armed quarterback, their routes grew one-dimensional, and most of their catches were coming on back-shoulder throws.

Even just now — with a better arm, that pass gets there.

Instead, it fell incomplete.

Third down.

Five yards short of the first.

This time, they were definitely going to try something.

Huh?

A split.

"He—y!! It's a SPLIT!!"

The moment I saw their tight end jet across the formation, my gut told me they were going to a split offense.

Whether for a short gain or a long shot, I couldn't say.

But either way — a passing attack.

After the first pass fell dead, I'd naturally expected them to grind out yards on the ground, but whether it was counterintuitive thinking or plain recklessness, they boldly went to a split.

Wide receivers split left and right.

And a tight end on the line of scrimmage.

Three receivers in total.

And the quarterback runs the play.

The backs flanking the QB would take on halfback or fullback duties — and as expected, they stayed in to block on the line.

The instant the two teams' behemoths collided at the point of attack,

I saw Bingham's #9 pop out clean.

Him.

He's the receiver.

Kana'i.

You seeing this?

Both outside linebackers had bitten upfield on the QB rush, which meant the only man who could possibly catch #9 splitting through the middle was the middle linebacker — Kana'i.

If he loses him,

we give up a serious chunk of yardage.

Worst case, a touchdown.

But.

THUD!

CRACK!

Hawaii's finest high school defender did not betray his team's faith this time either.

#9, slammed by Kana'i's vicious hit, flailed like an inflatable tube man — and just as I threw both hands up in celebration, I caught sight of the ball tumbling loose on the field, bouncing crooked.

And then, as if on cue,

everyone lunged, hands outstretched, screaming.

"FUMBLE-!!"

"It's OUT!!"

The ball had squirted free before the catch was ever secured, so from here on out, possession belonged to whoever grabbed it first.

Players from both teams dove toward the ball in a heartbeat, and in the next heartbeat a mountain of massive bodies had formed on top of it.

Who is it?

Whose hands is it in?

Come on.

Tell me it's ours.

We were at ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠their 38-yard line.

Take this ball away, and we swing the game in our favor big time.

And then—

"KAHUKU BALL-!!"

The head referee, ruling confirmed, stretched his arm out toward Bingham's end of the field, signaling that possession was ours.

A defensive stop.

A score.

Another defensive stop.

So I turned to my teammates bouncing around in joy and hollered the same thing I had before.

Because the defense was still one up on us.

"That's one MORE debt on the books!!"

The first half now felt like a bad dream.

The momentum had flipped in a blink.

A textbook high school ballgame.

And I had to keep this wave rolling.

"Chandler Bing! Alpha 30!"

The play I'd stayed up studying last night before bed.

That was the attack we'd chosen this time.

.

.

While the Kahuku High School players, victors on the back of a brilliant second-half surge, bathed in their joy, the recruiters were busy at work.

Footage of Dwayne Moi Stone's rushing touchdown from the third quarter had already been retweeted thousands of times over, rapidly setting the internet ablaze.

A speed like he was running life on fast-forward — alone.

And a perfectly composed pass at the decisive moment.

The reports all said the same obvious thing — we must land this kid — but the recruiters on site couldn't cool their excitement down.

This wasn't against just anyone. It was against Bingham.

A Top-5 defense in the entire nation.

"Cooking a dish like that out of such ordinary ingredients. Remarkable."

"Just give him some real receivers…."

"And an O-line, too."

As the scouting unfolded,

visions of Moi's future college took shape in their minds.

And a few of the quicker ones among them

picked up the phone and dialed their universities directly to say this:

"We need to build a team around Moi."

The team-building project a handful of visionaries had launched last winter —

for Dwayne Moi Stone.

Today,

roughly twenty more universities joined the fight.