Finally, Junior Year Begins

#. August 3, 2018

#-1. United States, Oahu, Hawaii

#-2. Honolulu CDP, Kahuku

#-3. Kahuku High School

#-4. Football Field

This season, the Hawaii high school football league had reorganized itself once again into a new form. Under the banner of the Open Division, three ILH schools would now compete against six schools from the OIA, with Open Division 1 and Division 2 stacked beneath them.

Kahuku, winners of back-to-back Hawaii championships, had of course been placed in the Open Division, and we received a schedule unlike any before it. Every team that had finished on top of its division last year was now crammed into one bracket. The league had gotten a whole lot tougher.

For me, that was cause for celebration.

And just like last year, the season opener would be broadcast on CBS. A reporter approached, and the interview began.

"Moi, with the new season about to kick off, how are you feeling right now? And what can we expect from this year's Kahuku?"

"We've prepared hard, as always. I'm thrilled the season is finally here, and all I want is to get on the field with our new teammates as soon as possible. This year we want to be champions again — winning the championship is our goal. We're ready."

Championship or not, though, I knew this year would be anything but easy. We'd be facing Saint Louis in the regular season, and both Mililani and Campbell were being hailed as serious offseason upgrades.

People were also worried about Coach John Morse's absence. We hadn't hired a separate quarterback coach this year — Coach Travis would be taking over the offensive coordinator duties on top of everything else.

But that would be fine too.

"Moi!"

"Yes, Sir."

"Not a bad first opponent. Don't rush it — stay calm, build it up slow and steady. Got it?"

"Yes, Sir."

Coach was right. Konawaena was a school on the Big Island, bumped up into the Open Division this year because of the earthquakes and volcanic eruptions. Talent-wise, they were several levels below us. As a warm-up, they were a decent matchup.

"D-LINE!!"

"OORAH!!"

"What are we gonna do to 'em?!!"

"TEAR 'EM UP AND STOMP 'EM!!"

"TEAR 'EM UP AND STOMP 'EM!!"

Defensive coordinator Coach Kimo Haiola had worked us hard over the summer, but the truth was that the gap left by last year's graduates was considerable. Coach Gavin Travis had thrown himself into recruiting, yet the atmosphere was completely different from last year. If the island's hotshot offensive players hoped to come to Kahuku, the defensive players hoped for exactly the opposite — a chance to stand against us in some way or another. Sticking a tackle on me for a sack, or jumping one of my passes for an interception, did far more for their recruiting tape.

So piecing together a defense had been a massive headache. We'd moved Peter from receiver to corner last season only because we couldn't find anyone serviceable at cornerback. Receivers, at least, could be replaced.

Jeremy Evans. A kid who'd transferred in from Leilehua. One of the best receivers in the entire OIA last year, and the most hyped of all the transfers.

I felt the same way. I had big expectations for him.

"Time to show 'em something, huh?"

"You know it. You haven't forgotten my routes, have you?"

"Was 2 the slant?"

"Are you serio— wait, got it! You're messing with me. Right?"

"Obviously, man. 5 is the slant."

"Dang it. My heart nearly dropped out of my chest."

He was fun to be around, and he knew a lot, too. He was the first transfer to knock on the Muscle Men's door this year, and I'd recently learned that his grades at Leilehua sat at a solid 3.2 GPA — well above average. A smart receiver who didn't just rely on instinct. As far as I was concerned, I'd picked up ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a serious new weapon.

Zach Kalahiki-Basque from Aiea was another one — a reliable Z-receiver.

Beep—!

(Andrew Catalon) — CBS Announcer: "Konawaena's kick gets us underway here. Alek Serao takes the ball and brings it up the field — he's down at the 36-yard line. Kahuku's offense now takes the field."

"Let's show 'em what we've got!! Let's Go-!!"

After bellowing that at the teammates stepping onto the field, I adjusted my helmet and jogged out to the line of scrimmage. Grandpa and Grandma, along with Aunt Mel, were seated along one side of the stands. I stole a glance toward that section — then immediately broke the huddle, dropping to one knee and calling the play.

New season, new playbook.

"Let's warm up first. Moses' Miracle."

"Man, I still don't like that one."

"Religious or something?"

"It feels like a sin, I'm telling you."

"Just play football already."

Clap!

We'd start things off light with a run. The front O-line splits the defensive tackles left and right, and the running back bursts through the parted sea — that's Moses' Miracle. The receivers just have to run their routes. It's a warm-up, after all.

Five O-linemen. Two tight ends. Two receivers. Once I confirmed everyone was set in position, I took the under center snap position.

"Green- 80!! HIKE!!"

Taking the snap from Marcus, I pivoted and handed the ball off to Wes. Wes Alo-Maiava, who'd transferred in last year, had focused on nothing but football ever since watching Enok make it to D1. Thanks to that, he'd transformed into a seriously solid, muscular athlete — and even back when he was skinny, his raw strength had always been good, so his explosive short-yardage running was something worth counting on.

Even now, he'd picked up an easy 8 yards. Time to go hunting for a first down.

"Turn left, two bodyguard."

"Metal Slug, enemy chaser."

"X-meatball, Raider, Z-salary."

Calling out a different play at every huddle, we ground our way down the field yard by yard. Before I knew it, we were in the red zone. Time to go straight for the score.

"Honolulu Swing."

Clap!

I called the play ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and lined up behind Marcus. And then—

"A-u!! A-u!!"

"?"

"They've got it, Marcus. A-u!!"

A'u. Blue marlin.

When I judged that the defense had figured out our play, I was supposed to call "marlin." So I switched the call fast. Keep it simple for now. The most basic tactic there is — the run. And within that, the most straightforward one of all.

"ULUA!!"

Ulua. Giant trevally. A fish commonly caught in Hawaiian waters — its teeth are razor-sharp, and in turn, it's a ferocious attacker.

Nothing fancy here. The line punches out as much space as it can, and the running back uses his flexibility to find the crease. Except—

"BLUE!! Blue 21!!"

This time, I was keeping the ball myself. I could've burned a timeout to draw up a proper play, but there was no need to waste one in the opening minutes of the first quarter. Coach trusted my audibles anyway — and more importantly, it was First and Ten. Even if this failed, we had three more downs to work with.

The number 21 I'd barked at the end meant I was running toward whoever wore that jersey — Zach. The O-line caught on and fired off their blocks, and I sent the tight end I'd lined up on the left out on a jet sweep to the right side.

And then—

"HIKE!"

Play call. Taking the under-center snap, I faked the handoff to Wes once again and bolted right without a moment's hesitation. Wes slashed on an inside slant and cleared out the route for me, which let me shove two defensive backs far out of the play.

Of course, by now they'd figured out they'd been fooled, and they were coming straight at me. The view through my helmet was shaking violently, and I spotted a defender charging in from the left. So I clamped the ball tight in my right hand and extended my left toward the defender — straight for the helmet.

Stiff Arm.

In football, grabbing an opponent's helmet normally draws a 15-yard facemask penalty, but shoving a helmet away with your palm mid-run is perfectly legal play.

Thud!

Number 10, who'd lunged in with both hands trying to drag me down, got knocked backward and ate turf instead. Having shed the defense that easily, I ran a few more yards and strolled safely into the end zone. Roars poured down onto the field, and I — having just created our first touchdown of the season with my own legs — rolled the ball across the turf like a spinning top, then leapt into a chest bump with the sprinting Zach. The rest of the guys came pouring toward me.

"COME ON!!"

"Let's Go-!!"

"ALL DAY!! ALL DAY!!"

(Andrew Catalon): "TOUCHDOWN!! Kahuku! A sensational rushing score from Dwayne Moi Stone!! Whoa-ow!! How about that speed and power!"

(Tom McCarthy) — CBS Announcer: "He sheds the oncoming defender like he's swatting away a fly. For the 2018 U.S. Army All-American Bowl MVP, the level of competition in Hawaii looks far, far too easy."

(Andrew Catalon): "Watching whether Dwayne Moi Stone can make Kahuku the best team in Hawaii once again will be absolutely fascinating. That's a 192-centimeter, 103-kilogram quarterback — the most talked-about prospect in the country right now."

#. August 4, 2018

#-1. United States, Oahu, Hawaii

#-2. Honolulu CDP

#-3. Aina Haina

"You were very impressive yesterday."

"Thank you, Sir."

"461 total yards with three touchdown passes. And 113 yards on the ground with two more touchdowns of your own. Thirty points came from your hands alone. Truly remarkable."

Saturday morning, a guest had come to Grandma's house. I'd wondered which school would be quickest to get in contact with the NCAA — and it turned out Alabama was ahead of the pack in this department, too.

That's right. Sitting in front of me right now was Nick Saban.

"I don't mean any disrespect, but—"

"?"

"Konawaena hasn't been able to train properly for three months. Because of what happened on the Big Island."

"I'm aware. It's a tragedy."

"Yes. It is a tragedy. Regardless — those kids came to Kahuku wanting to play football even in those conditions. So I didn't pity them. I just gave them my absolute best."

"…"

I wasn't saying it to score points. It was simply the honest truth. Every human being profits and grows off the back of someone else's tragedy — and while I could accept the benefit that came my way, I had no desire to savor it or exploit it. Exploiting something on the field? That was fine. A weakness is more than enough reason.

"If I misjudged you, I apologize."

"Not at all. Thank you for understanding."

"Ha! In any case — come to Alabama."

"…"

Last year, Alabama had won the D1 National Championship again. They'd dropped one regular-season game to Auburn, but they beat Georgia in the title game and climbed back to the top of the mountain. Sophomore quarterback Jalen Hurts took MVP honors, and sixteen players went pro in April's NFL Draft. The undisputed best team in college football — it was hard to find a weakness anywhere in the program. Their recruiting classes last year and this year had been outstanding too, so even by the time I'd join in 2020, they'd still be fielding an elite roster.

Except—

"What about Tua?"

"A fellow Hawaiian, like yourself."

"Yes. And a very good quarterback. When I'm a senior, Tua will be a junior. Even just to make the NFL, he'll be giving everything he has — I'm not sure how many opportunities would be left for me."

Nick Saban wasn't the type to park a freshman quarterback on the bench out of some rigid pecking order. Jalen Hurts had seized his chance as a freshman himself. Which meant ability was all that mattered. And while my words right now might have sounded like fear of competition, if anyone could read between the lines properly, it was Nick Saban.

"We've got a good tackle in Alex."

"Left side?"

"…Yes. And he'll be there for a long while."

"I see. But — couldn't he go to the NFL in 2020? He played well even as a freshman."

NCAA D1 head coaches who prefer a quarterback's running game tend to neglect offensive tackle upgrades. They value opening rushing lanes over building and protecting the pocket. So rather than the left tackle who'd shield the quarterback from a defensive edge, they prize the interior guards who bang open holes in the middle. They'd poached Alex Leatherwood, Florida's best player last year, but this cycle they'd barely glanced at the tackle position. Sure, they'd brought in one 4-Star, but Alabama's recruiting this year was heavily defense-focused — and that was exactly the part that gnawed at me.

Offensive tackle. Tight end. Two positions I didn't like.

"If you commit early—"

"…"

"—everyone will want to play with you."

"But the defense is… oh."

"Haha. Now you get it?"

Wow.

This old fox. He really was something else.

Just as our Kahuku squad had torn its hair out trying to rebuild its defensive line this season, there was no guarantee the same phenomenon wouldn't follow me into the NCAA. Right now, getting there was the priority — but once I made the NCAA, the NFL stage would be waiting. Meaning: any defensive back who produced results against me would soak up the spotlight, and whichever college I chose could find it harder and harder to land good defenders.

Saban knew that. That's why he'd loaded up on defense this cycle. His offense was already stocked to the brim.

But still. And yet.

"There are a few tight ends I'm keeping an eye on. Next year there's a promising receiver named Baylor Cupp, too. He plays in Texas, so it won't be easy — but if I have your commitment, I can make the attempt."

Alabama had promised me all sorts of things. A five-star-hotel-grade dorm room all to myself. A car to drive around the state. Tutors to help with my studies. Two personal trainers. Living expenses, and on and on. They'd promised hotel accommodations and premium seats at the stadium whenever my family flew to the mainland, along with full funding for a family vacation every summer break. The scholarship was, of course, a full ride.

And on top of that—

"We'll cover your insurance, too."

They'd even take responsibility for his health insurance.

"So today is my first visit."

"That's right. Coach, you're the first."

"Haha. The first is always the best choice, they say."

"That's what I was taught, too."

"…How many schools are coming today?"

"Four."

"Four?"

"Yes Sir."

Nick Saban was probably dying to know who else was coming, but I didn't give that up.

"Well then. Have a good month."

"You too, Coach."

He was saying he'd be back in a month, so I told him to at least let me buy him dinner next time.

"Now that's an idea. Any restaurants you'd recommend?"

"Yes. A place run by my grandfather's friend."

"Excellent. See you next time."

Nick Saban and the Alabama crew climbed into their taxi and headed for the airport. As I waved them off, I ran into a neighbor sweeping his yard across the street. What was his name again? God, seriously — why couldn't I ever remember? Oh! There it was.

"Jerry!"

"Moi! Don't tell me—!"

"Yup! You know?"

"Of course! Who on earth doesn't know Nick Saban?!"

Well, fair enough. A D1 coach with that kind of stature is more famous than most celebrities.

"You heading to Alabama?!"

"Don't know yet! It's just getting started!"

"Still, warm weather is the best, am I right?!"

"You are! Gonna push Florida on me again?!"

"Do you KNOW how great The Swamp is?!"

The Swamp — that was Florida's home stadium. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I'd heard plenty of sermons from Jerry about how wonderful Florida was, and about the Gators too. I was mildly interested, honestly, so I figured I'd sit down with the Florida Gators folks whenever they showed up.

"Don't forget! Florida!"

"I'll think about it!!"

I said my goodbyes to Jerry and headed inside, kicking off my shoes and taking a short breather. And that was only the first one.

"By the way, Moi."

"Yes, Grandma."

"Do you think the hospitality was lacking?"

Lacking? Was it, though.

"…"

I looked at the table where Nick Saban had sat and gone. He'd eaten a little, sure — but the spread barely looked touched.

Grandma had raided every bakery in the neighborhood for today's D1 visitors. That was how high the stack of cakes ran. We could eat on it all day and make no dent at all.

"Not at all, Grandma. It's plenty."

"Good. So, who's next?"

"Oklahoma."

"Oh— a cold place, that."

"Yup. Weather's moody there too."

After Alabama, the next team to visit was Oklahoma. Not a priority, but I figured a conversation couldn't hurt.

"Pleasure to meet you. Lincoln Riley here."

#. August 6, 2018

#-1. United States, Oahu, Hawaii

#-2. Honolulu CDP, Kahuku

#-3. Kahuku High School

First day of the fall semester. I was standing in the hallway, firing off messages.

A girl, you ask? Please.

Yeah—

I knew that was coming. We really did click, Amon-Ra and me. But you know what?

Slipping out of my Snapchat chat with Amon-Ra, I tapped into the room where six messages had piled up. There was someone else who wanted me here too.

Justin Jefferson. We'd only met for barely two days at the LSU camp, but we'd gotten tight fast.

Something I'd learned from all my experiences on the mainland: playing alongside genuinely skilled players is an absolute blast. It's not that I was unhappy at Kahuku or anything — but in San Antonio, I'd felt the pull of infinite possibility. Football would get more complicated, sure. But that much more fun, too.

Sensing things were about to get loud, I switched off Snapchat notifications and headed to my locker before first period. Dozens of notes were plastered across the front of it. I peeled one off and read it.

Fuck.

Get a grip, people. You're getting nothing from me?

Kate Upton. Emily Ratajkowski. Hailey Clauson. Kendall Jenner.

Shooting a wink at the photos ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠taped inside the locker door, I grabbed my books and walked toward the classroom.

Finally, junior year had begun.