The Meaning of Silence

Every year, in early August.

The D1 football teams enter training.

Also known as.

Summer Camp.

In high school, it started the day after graduation every year, but at the college level, the preparation period lasts roughly a month.

So in exchange.

There's something called the voluntary training period.

'Voluntary.'

Training.

During this period, NCAA D1 football teams are not allowed to force their players to train — they can only work out with the players who show up of their own 'free will.'

Which means.

There's technically no obligation to train at all.

#. May 31, 2020

#-1. Athens, Georgia, USA

#-2. University of Georgia

#-3. Vandiver Hall

Yesterday, a little past 7 PM.

I arrived in Georgia.

When I opened the door to Room 607 of Vandiver Hall — where I'd be living from now on — the first thing that caught my eye was the food sitting on the table.

The head coach must have worried I hadn't eaten dinner, because he'd left behind a steaming hot lasagna.

Thanks to him, my stomach was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠full last night, and after unpacking my things I drifted off to sleep.

And now, today.

"What the fuck? Is this Gap real?"

"Haha. What dorm are you in?"

"Shit, the f— Brown Hall. It's nice and all, but… damn!! Isn't this place just heaven??"

I had guests.

The very first visitors to my Georgia dorm were…

Sophomore Zamir White.

Position: Running back.

We'd met at the 2018 U.S. Army All-American Bowl.

Back then, he'd played on Trevor Lawrence's team.

And that summer at camp, he tore his ACL and was forced to take a redshirt year off.

"Son of a—. I was a 5-Star too, you know."

"Says who?"

"Fuck. A 6-Star really is the way to go."

"Damn—!!!!"

"Hm?"

The voice was coming from the bathroom.

Wondering what was going on, I headed that way.

George Pickens, who'd come along with Zamir, was sitting in the empty bathtub with both legs stretched out.

What the hell is this one doing now?

"This thing has a massage function too?"

"So I've heard."

"Damn------!!!"

He's from Alabama.

Plays wide receiver.

Whoever said it wasn't going to be the receivers —

the first ones to come find me were the RB and the WR.

"Can I come by sometimes and use this for a massage?"

"Knock yourself out. Just bring your own towel."

"Yo. You know what? From today, you're my brother."

"Sure, sure. Get out. Let's go eat."

"Huh? There's food?"

In the age of COVID, getting groceries in Georgia was extremely difficult.

But there's an exception to everything, wherever you go.

The school had filled the fridge for me, and I'd prepared a few dishes in advance.

Taking care of guests —

that's the Hawaiian way.

More precisely.

The Stone way.

"Whoa."

"Hm?"

"Why is this so good?"

"Don't startle me."

"Is this pork?"

"Yup."

"This is the number one pork dish I've ever had in my life. What's it called?"

"Kalua pork."

"Kahlúa? The liquor?"

"No. Not that."

Traditionally, kalua pork is supposed to be wrapped in banana leaves, but there weren't any, so I'd wrapped it in cabbage and steamed it instead.

It wouldn't taste quite like the island version, but with my mom's sauce, it would still be good.

"My mom runs a restaurant back in Hawaii. I waited tables there from the time I was little."

"Since when?"

"Five years old."

"Look at you, working since you were a kid. My dad had me lifting weights when I was four."

"I started at six. I had to become a football player, no question about it."

As the old saying goes, sharing a meal is how you grow close.

Over lunch, we traded all kinds of stories.

Zamir proudly showed off a photo of himself from age five, right after he'd squatted 80 pounds (about 36 kg), and George pulled out old family pictures from his childhood.

But then.

The background of George's photos…

"Wow. You were a silver-spoon kid, huh?"

"You didn't know?"

"Know what?"

"Carl Pickens. That's his dad, man."

"What?? For real??"

Carl Pickens.

The legendary receiver of the Cincinnati Bengals.

1992 NFL Offensive Rookie of the Year.

Two-time Pro Bowler (All-Star MVP).

Tied for the most touchdowns in the NFL in 1995.

The wide receiver most beloved by Cincinnati fans was George's father.

Coming to a mainland college really is something else.

Already, a big-shot dad had popped out of the woodwork.

"What about him? Doesn't he count?"

"Who?"

"Peter. Peter Skoronski."

"That's his grandfather, isn't it?"

"Whatever."

Offensive tackle Peter Skoronski was also born into a football family.

His grandfather won the NFL championship a whopping five times.

He was there for the very first Super Bowl, and the next year's championship as well.

He lived through the golden age of the Green Bay Packers, and — naturally — is enshrined in the Hall of Fame.

Bob Skoronski.

A living legend of football.

"By the way, what about the other freshmen? Are you the only one here?"

"I think a few more are coming?"

"Damn— and they're still missing. This isn't gonna work."

"Cut them some slack. It's COVID."

"Fair enough. This whole thing is a pain in the ass."

Right now, I'm the only freshman who's arrived at Georgia.

The rest will come on the 2nd or the 3rd.

Some players had caught the virus after the Memorial Day (May 25) weekend, so it would take a while for all the freshmen to gather.

But the situation wasn't much different for the returning players.

Fewer than ten of them were on campus.

Especially the ones projected to go to the NFL —

they're being extremely careful with their bodies right now.

Guys like James Cook and Zamari, whom I'd met at the U.S. Army All-American Bowl, might not show up at all during the voluntary period.

"My body's itching to move, though."

"Mine too."

"Then should we go lift later?"

"Can we, though? Doesn't it start on the 4th?"

"We can go somewhere else."

Besides the facilities where the football team trains, there are ones open to regular students.

With the pandemic on and summer break overlapping, hardly anyone would be using them.

As long as we kept our distance.

And stuck to groups of six or fewer, wouldn't it be fine?

"Do we have to?"

"Come on— George, don't be a buzzkill."

"Yeah, don't be a buzzkill, Silver Spoon."

"…Fine. But."

"?"

"Don't call me Silver Spoon."

George wanted me to give up the nickname as the price of hanging out with him.

Outrageous — but since it's our first meeting, I'll let it slide.

"How about Bronze Spoon, then?"

"Also no."

"Copper? Then… iron?"

"FUCK NO!!"

One thing I learned today.

George is so serious that he's fun to tease.

This is important information.

I must remember it.

After eating, we killed some time playing games while digesting, then headed outside toward the gym.

Hawaii or here —

when you've got nothing to do, apparently everyone does the same thing.

For that, at least.

I felt a little reassured.

The campus was completely empty.

When would this place be filled with people again?

I couldn't say for certain yet.

#. June 2, 2020

#-1. Athens, Georgia, USA

#-2. Kirby Smart's House

While the NCAA D1 committee was slowly rolling out its countermeasures, Kirby Smart was still waiting on the SEC's final ruling.

The most critical question on his mind right now: if the season were canceled because of the pandemic, would the SEC guarantee the players' scholarships?

If they refused to cover the costs, he would have to rescind certain recruiting decisions — which could easily spiral into lawsuits.

But more painful than any lawsuit was the thought of failing to protect the players who had trusted him and chosen Georgia.

Day by day, Kirby Smart's worry deepened.

And yet, this morning.

Some long-overdue good news finally arrived.

"What? Is that really true?"

"Yes, sir. Some of them have already started working out."

"…How many?"

"Three at first. Then five yesterday."

"…"

Because of the regulations announced by the NCAA D1 committee, football training facilities wouldn't open until the 4th.

But starting on the 31st of last month, they'd begun voluntary training anyway.

The location was a gym open to the general student body — which meant it counted as personal time, so it didn't technically violate any rules.

"Moi, Zamir, and George — those three started it, sir."

"Zamir and George aren't the type to do something like that."

"Exactly."

"It's Moi, then."

"Yes, sir."

Every coach in every sport weighs one thing above almost all else when evaluating a player.

Work ethic.

It's a kind of professionalism.

How well a player maintains the conduct and mindset befitting their profession — on the way to going pro, and after making it — all wrapped up in those two words.

"That boy's work ethic is something special."

"It's been famous since high school."

"And he shows it the moment he sets foot here."

Kirby Smart smiled brightly for the first time in a while.

It had been a long time since anyone had seen him like this.

"I've warned Moi not to let the group get to ten."

"It won't even get that far."

"True enough."

"Too anxious because of COVID, or looking for an excuse, or feeling like they've caught a break — there are plenty of guys out there who'd love to use this damn virus as a shield. They're trying to turn it into an excuse to be lazy."

Kirby Smart had already received messages from several players.

Saying they'd caught COVID, or come into contact with someone who had.

Saying they didn't think they could make it to campus.

For now, he'd chosen to trust them.

But trust them one hundred percent? Not quite.

Some of them had poor track records of conduct.

And some had always been short on work ethic.

"You said five just now?"

"Yes."

"Three at first. Who are the other two?"

"Both freshmen. Peter. And Darnell."

"Good to hear."

When ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Dwayne Moi Stone's commitment was confirmed, the thing Kirby had hoped for most was his leadership.

By nature, a quarterback earns the respect of players at every other position.

It's a feature of the position — and a feature of football itself.

A quarterback's character and conduct always become the face of the team.

In the NFL, that influence fades somewhat.

But not at the college level.

If anything, the effect runs even deeper there than in high school.

College players are more mature than high schoolers, but still carry plenty of rough edges.

From that standpoint, the fact that Dwayne Moi had led players to the gym the very moment he arrived on campus was extremely encouraging.

It was safe to be hopeful about this year's team.

Because sweat never lies.

"I suppose I should push myself a little harder too."

Kirby Smart rose from the couch, picked up his phone, and walked off somewhere, and Rodney Garner — watching him go — scratched his head with a strange expression on his face.

Kirby Smart had found his energy again in the example of a freshman.

That was a very rare thing.

'Something you only see once in a lifetime.'

It was early June, and everything still felt uncertain.

And yet, Georgia dared to hope.

#. June 4, 2020

#-1. Athens, Georgia, USA

#-2. University of Georgia

#-3. House of Payne

The House of Payne.

Georgia's pride and joy — its indoor training facility.

Ranked among the top five in the entire country.

The facility was dedicated to the university in honor of Billy Payne, a former Georgia football player, and Porter Payne, his father, who had also served the school as its mail carrier.

It sat right next to the Woodruff practice fields and connected directly to Butts-Mehre Heritage Hall — the so-called central nervous system of the football program.

Day one of the voluntary training period.

I arrived at HoP early in the morning.

A few coaches were already inside, so I walked over and greeted them.

The head coach came up beside me.

"Good morning. Sleep well?"

"Yes, Sir."

Over the past few months, there had been some changes to the Georgia football coaching staff.

First.

Coach James Coley had left.

That news had shocked me.

The reason for his departure was a tactical disagreement with the head coach — and word around the program was that, roughly speaking, I had been the cause of it.

Coach Smart wanted to tear the team's tactics apart and rebuild them for the coming season, while Coach Coley had proposed adjusting only certain parts.

The gap between them never closed, and in the end, the two men went their separate ways.

And so a new coach had joined the team.

This man, right here.

Todd Monken.

A coach who'd served as offensive coordinator for three different NFL teams — the head coach had told me he was the best possible fit for bringing out my strengths.

Today was our first time meeting.

"So you're Moi."

"?! Yes, Sir."

Whoa.

Don't startle me.

His voice is deep as a gravel pit.

Does he smoke a pack a day?

Or is it the dip?

The kind of phlegm-rasped voice that makes those thoughts come unbidden.

"Are you the only quarterback here?"

"No, sir. As far as I know, there are two more."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, sir."

The coaches weren't keeping close tabs on who was on campus — because reaching out to players could come across as 'coercion.'

If that happened, the NCAA would sanction them.

Right now, this was strictly a voluntary period.

Neither I nor the coaches existed here officially.

We were simply two people who happened to run into each other.

At the news that two more quarterbacks existed, Coach Monken gave a slow nod.

"Both of them must be lazy bastards, then."

"It's not even 8 AM yet."

"We'll see."

Coach Monken walked off, and I started loosening up.

How many would show?

By my count, there were 26 players on campus right now.

About a quarter of the whole team.

"Here I am!! Wassaaaa… huh?"

"Morning!"

"…"

The loud one making the grand entrance was a fellow freshman — Kelee Ringo.

A cornerback on defense.

He was visibly stunned to spot the coaches inside.

One by one after that, players trickled into HoP, and the other quarterbacks showed up soon enough.

"Hey. I'm Stetson."

"Dwayne Moi Stone. Just call me Moi."

"Wow. You're huge. You look like an end or a linebacker."

"Haha. I'm 6'5.5" right now."

Stetson is a little short for a quarterback.

Around 180 cm, I'd guess.

And Carson…

"You look just like Timmy."

"What? Who's that?"

"You don't know Timmy from South Park?"

"Ah~ I've heard of him."

"So can I call you Timmy from now on?"

"No. Absolutely not."

"Tsk."

"Did you just click your tongue at me?"

He resembles a cartoon character.

After quickly breaking the ice with the other quarterbacks, we spent some time getting to know one another.

Born in Atlanta, Stetson had dreamed of playing for Georgia since he was a kid, and in high school he'd been one of the top quarterbacks in his region.

But because he was too small and too skinny,

the only D1 scholarship offer he received was from Middle Tennessee State.

Small quarterbacks rarely make it past high school, after all.

But Stetson wanted to come to Georgia so badly that he gave up the scholarship and enrolled as a regular student.

That is a genuinely difficult decision.

And…

"You're probably a silver-spoon kid too, huh?"

"Well, I never went hungry."

"Noted and logged."

I still hadn't heard Carson's story when Coach Monken called us over.

"Yours can wait."

"Do you really have to?"

"Obviously."

As a quarterback, knowing your teammates is essential.

Starters and backups alike.

It was the same at Kahuku.

I had every detail about my guys memorized down to the smallest thing.

Hurrying to Coach Monken's side, when he asked whether I wanted to warm up a little first, I answered out of pure habit.

"Oorah!!"

"…"

"…"

Uh.

That's not it?

"Oorah, you said?"

"I did that in high school. Guess it became a habit."

"I see. Well, first thing's first — let's drain that high school out of you."

"Oo… Yes Sir."

My first quarterback training at Georgia.

Right now, my heart is pounding.

#. 40 Minutes Later

The scattered, noisy atmosphere had melted away before anyone noticed.

Everyone was locked in on training.

Georgia's coaches, Kirby Smart included, taught the players while watching them with painstaking attention, determined to let nothing slip past them.

"…Hardworking, isn't he."

"He talks a lot, too."

"Nothing wrong with that. Not for a quarterback."

"No. That's true enough."

The traits Georgia's coaches noticed in Dwayne Moi Stone on day one: he talked constantly, and he was tireless.

He never stopped trying to communicate with the players around him, and a few of the scenes that unfolded left an impression.

Unlike the other quarterbacks, who worried only about their own throws, Moi studied the receivers running to catch the other quarterbacks' balls with unblinking focus.

And every so often, he'd walk over and say something to them.

"Todd!"

"?"

Kirby Smart called out Todd Monken's name loudly, then walked over to where the quarterbacks were gathered.

Training continued on, and the two ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠men talked as they watched.

"Let's see some long passes."

"No problem, but why?"

"There's something I want to check."

When coaches watch a quarterback throw deep, it's usually to check his shoulders.

But right now, the purpose was a little different.

Kirby Smart pointed out the receivers.

"Jermaine! George! KJ! Over here!"

He called over three wide receivers, then paired each of them with a quarterback.

Freshman QB with a sophomore.

Junior QB with a freshman.

The groups were set, and Carson Beck lined up to throw first.

Todd Monken raised his whistle to his lips.

Twiiit!

At the whistle, George Pickens burst off the line and tore downfield, the Georgia receiver putting distance between them in a flash.

Carson Beck watched him for a beat, lifted his head, and let the ball fly — but it landed just a touch behind him.

Next.

Twiiit!

Stetson Bennett's pass settled perfectly into Jermaine Burton's hands, but Kirby Smart didn't miss the way the receiver eased off his speed just slightly at the end.

And now.

Moi's turn.

"…"

"…"

Twiiit!

.

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

Kearis Jackson took off running the instant the whistle sounded, and at the same moment, Moi bounced lightly on ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the spot.

As he did, he gave the ball in his right hand a few light taps with his left.

To Kirby Smart, it looked almost like Moi was syncing his breath with the receiver's — and then Moi swung his right arm.

'He never looked up.'

The decisive difference from the two quarterbacks before him.

Moi never once glanced at the ceiling.

His eyes were locked on the receiver and nothing else, and the ball sailed through the air wrapped in a beautiful spiral.

Kirby Smart turned his gaze back.

Kearis Jackson was still running.

Tap, tap, tap.

The moment Kearis Jackson's movement seemed to slow into a dreamlike slo-mo, Kirby Smart's right index finger — measuring the receiver's speed — tapped his thigh in the very same rhythm.

And that motion—

"What?!!"

"KJ!! How do you drop that?!!"

The failed over-the-shoulder catch snapped everything back to reality.

In the very next instant, Kirby Smart looked for Todd Monken.

Soon, the two men's eyes met.

"…"

"…"

The meaning of silence.

As if they'd made a pact beforehand, the two of them nodded, side by side.