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MD - Chapter 240: Documentary I
🕑 Added 2025-12-24 16:16:30 +0000 UTCThe television screen was black. For a few seconds, nothing could be seen, only the dry sound of a ball hitting the ground.
Thump.
Thump.
The sound stopped, and white letters appeared:
THE ORIGIN.
The words slowly faded, and an image emerged. A sprawling building with straight lines and ordinary architecture. Light-colored facades, large windows, and outdoor walkways connecting different wings.
The camera moved calmly, showing the campus from different angles.
“This is Palisades Charter High School. A public school in Los Angeles. Large, with thousands of students,” said a serious, very clear voice.
The image continued forward.
“Academically solid. Noted for extracurricular activities like water polo and track and field, its name is common in state competitions…” there was a brief pause.
“But not in football.”
The campus was unusually quiet. There were no students. No voices or laughter, only the wind gently moving some leaves among the trees.
The camera finally stopped on a man. He had dark hair with a few streaks of gray, neatly combed. He wore a sober gray suit with a white shirt, no tie. His posture was relaxed, hands clasped in front of him.
Tom Rinaldi, a well-known journalist and sports reporter, famous for his work at ESPN.
“This is where Andrew Pritchett-Tucker began his journey,” he said calmly. “Before the national broadcasts… before the records started showing up everywhere.”
Rinaldi slightly turned his head and looked at the building behind him.
“Before anyone paid attention.”
There was a cut, and now the camera followed Rinaldi walking along a path that led to the football field. The grass looked neat, well maintained, with crisp white lines.
“A well-kept field with a capacity of about three thousand people,” he said, and as he spoke, the camera shifted to the side. An older man was pushing a lawn mower, focused on his work. He wore a cap, a dark blue T-shirt, and gloves.
Rinaldi approached him. “Excuse me,” he said. “Does this stadium usually fill up?”
The man turned off the machine and wiped his hands on his pants.
“Yes,” he replied without hesitation. “Always.”
Rinaldi raised his eyebrows slightly. “Always?”
The man nodded. “For almost three years now. Game after game.”
“Three years? It wasn’t like that before?”
The man shook his head, almost amused. “No. Before him… no.”
Another cut, and now the interior of a building appeared. A narrow hallway, white lighting, and rows of lockers. The camera moved slowly until it stopped in front of a glass display case. Inside, three trophies gleamed under the artificial light.
LEAGUE CHAMPION — CIF DIVISION V 2008/2009
SECTION CHAMPION — CIF DIVISION V 2008/2009
STATE CHAMPION — CIF DIVISION V 2008/2009
The image lingered for a few seconds on the engraved plaques.
“League, section, and state. A treble. The first titles in history for the Palisades Eagles. Achieved three years ago…” Rinaldi said, reappearing in frame, seen in profile as he looked at the trophies.
“Andrew Pritchett-Tucker was the starting quarterback on that team, a freshman…” he added, slowly turning toward the camera.
There was a silence, and the camera returned to the trophies.
“An institution with more than fifty years of history,” Rinaldi added, now in a lower voice, “that had never won a single official football title.”
The image remained still.
“Did anyone really expect a three-peat… led by a student who had just arrived?”
There was a quick cut, and now a medium shot showed a young woman sitting in front of the camera. In the background, a classroom. At the bottom of the screen, a caption appeared: Jennifer Miller – Former Palisades student – Class of 2009.
“No…” she said, almost laughing. “If you had asked me back then, I never would’ve imagined Palisades winning even three games in a row.”
She paused briefly.
“Not even close. Just making the playoffs was already a reason to celebrate.”
She smiled in a strange way, as if she still found it hard to believe.
Another cut, and now a young guy appeared leaning against a metal railing, cap worn backward, arms crossed. The background was a high school track.
Former Palisades student.
“A three-peat?” he scoffed. “No way. Back then, I swear I thought it was easier to win the lottery than to see our team be champions of anything,” he said, shaking his head.
Another cut and another shot. A younger boy wearing a sports jersey, his backpack resting on the ground beside him. He looked nervous in front of the camera.
Current Palisades student.
“I went to Palisades Middle School, so I knew a strong group was coming into high school,” he said, adjusting himself in the chair. “A lot of people probably knew it, there was some expectation. But high school is faster and more physical. It’s not the same as middle school.”
“I never thought the impact would be this strong and this fast,” he added honestly.
A cut, and the music rose slightly. A soft instrumental melody began to accompany the images.
Rinaldi’s voice came in over the footage.
“Football is a team game,” he said. “And asking a single player to transform a program that was buried… with coaches, players, and a structure that had never been taken seriously, seemed like a monumental task.”
“But Andrew wasn’t alone,” he continued as the images changed.
A quick, precise pass from Andrew of more than twenty yards was caught by a player wearing number 11. The receiver jumped and secured the ball perfectly. As he landed, he immediately turned and ran into the end zone, unstoppable.
“Steve Rice,” Rinaldi said. “His most reliable receiver.”
The images shifted. Now a player wearing number 22 appeared, powering through the middle, breaking a tackle, scoring, and shouting after the whistle.
“Reggie Pierce. Running back, pure power.”
Another play. A player wearing number 27 sprinted for more than twenty yards down the sideline, accelerating past two defenders.
“Archie Collins. Speed and reflexes.”
A new clip appeared. Palisades’ offensive line driving forward, the camera focused on number 74, the one anchoring and leading the line, giving Andrew that extra second, just enough, for a deep pass that ended in a touchdown.
“And Kevin Roberts. His most reliable wall.”
The images began to alternate.
Andrew’s passes to Steve. Reggie’s runs. Archie breaking free outside. Kevin holding the protection.
“They weren’t just teammates,” Rinaldi said. “They were friends since childhood. The same generation, the same goal: win it all.”
The footage showed successful plays, celebrations, hugs, and high-fives.
“But not everything starts easily when you’re the new guy…”
The music cut out abruptly.
The images began to rewind at high speed. Plays running backward. Celebrations reversed with distorted sound. Until it stopped on the bench.
The camera focused on the backs of five players sitting down, their helmets resting on the ground in front of them.
The numbers were clear: 12, 11, 22, 27, and 74.
“In the first two games of the season,” Rinaldi continued, “Andrew and his guard, as many like to call them, were backups.”
There was a cut, now showing footage of a clumsy Palisades team, slow-paced and lacking spark.
“The starters were the seniors,” he added. “The decision seemed logical.”
Final score of the first game of the season:
PALISADES HIGH SCHOOL 16 – WEST HOOD HIGH SCHOOL 12
“They won the first one,” Rinaldi said, “by just four points, and it was a friendly.”
The image shifted to another scoreboard, this time negative for Palisades:
PALISADES HIGH SCHOOL 3 – BIRMINGHAM HIGH SCHOOL 21
“The second game, this time a league match, they lost by eighteen points.”
“Andrew didn’t play a single snap. Neither did Steve. Nor Reggie. Nor Archie. Nor Kevin.”
The camera returned to the bench, the same backs, the same numbers.
“Until the third game arrived. The second league game.”
The image quickly changed to a rival stadium with ambient sound, shouts and drums, a home crowd making itself heard on every play.
On one side of the screen appeared: Wilson High School vs. Palisades High School.
“Despite the heavy loss in the previous game, the lineup remained unchanged. Now facing a better-prepared team and doing so on the road.”
The halftime scoreboard showed what was obvious:
WILSON 35 – PALISADES 10
“Then… something changed,” the voice-over said, serious and restrained.
The image cut to Palisades’ starting quarterback taking the snap. Immediate pressure. A hard tackle that left him lying on the turf, clutching his shoulder.
“The starting quarterback suffered a shoulder injury, and Andrew Pritchett-Tucker was chosen to replace him.”
The footage showed Andrew rising from the bench at the coach’s signal and beginning to warm up.
“What no one knew at that moment…,” Rinaldi continued as the pace of the images quickened, “…was that this substitution would change everything.”
On his first snap, Andrew didn’t pass, he ran. He burst through the middle of the field, evaded the first tackle, accelerated between two defenders, and kept going until he was finally brought down near the sideline, after a forty-two-yard run that lifted the entire bench to its feet.
“From the very first down, he showed one of his most defining weapons,” Rinaldi said. “His ability as a dual-threat.”
The plays began to roll with music steadily building. Andrew ran again, this time with his teammates clearing the way, crossing the goal line for the first touchdown. The bench erupted. The home crowd fell silent for the first time all night.
The images continued. A short pass turned into a score. Another run. Another touchdown. The scoreboard kept changing play after play as Wilson’s defense found no answers and Palisades began to believe.
The camera showed the scoreboard flipping again and again, until it finally stopped on the final result:
WILSON 38 – PALISADES 42
“In just two quarters,” Rinaldi continued without raising his voice, “Andrew scored four touchdowns and flipped a game that already seemed lost. Three rushing touchdowns and one through the air.”
The final image showed the entire Palisades team celebrating in disbelief at what they had just experienced, players clutching their heads, others jumping uncontrollably, and assistants running down the sideline with their arms raised.
The coaches looked at one another with expressions of disbelief, as if they were still trying to understand how a game that had been lost by twenty-five points had ended in victory.
Andrew was at the center of it all, celebrating with his friends.
Then the image shifted to a calmer shot. An interior. A simple office, with tactical boards in the background and jerseys hanging on the wall. A man appeared seated in front of the camera.
At the bottom of the screen, a caption appeared:
David Reynolds
Head Coach — Palisades
He was a man in his early forties. Broad-built, with close-cropped, military-style hair and a neatly trimmed mustache. His arms rested on his legs, and he wore a smile that mixed irony with a hint of embarrassment.
“I never thought I’d bench the best high school quarterback in the country,” he said, shaking his head. “And yes, I was the one who did it.”
He let out a brief laugh.
“At that moment, I was wrong. There’s no other way to put it,” he said, adjusting himself slightly in the chair.
“Andrew had already shown superior talent from the very first practice, that was obvious. But he was also a freshman. And I thought I was doing the right thing by respecting the hierarchy.”
He paused.
“But it wasn’t just talent. His work ethic is admirable. And he managed to inspire all of his teammates, including me. He forced me to take everything much more seriously,” Reynolds admitted.
He lowered his gaze for a second, then looked back up.
“And what I appreciate most about Andrew… is that he never held it against me. He never complained. He waited, kept working in practice, and when he finally got his chance… he did what we all know he did.”
He nodded, as if the game were still playing out in front of him.
“After that game, Andrew earned the starting job, there was no debate. The same with Steve and the others. I stopped thinking about hierarchy and started putting on the field the guys who performed best in practice. And from then on we didn’t lose again.”
The sentence lingered as the image changed.
Footage of the next game appeared. The Palisades team running onto the field, this time with Andrew leading the way, helmet on, talking to his teammates as they lined up. Steve to his right. Archie to his left. Reggie behind him. Kevin thumping Andrew on the chest before the first snap.
The game unfolded at a fast pace. The final score appeared on screen:
PALISADES 51 — CATHEDRAL WEST 29
“In his first game as a starter,” Rinaldi’s voice continued, “Andrew threw and ran as if he’d been there for years.”
The images paused for a moment on his stats, overlaid on screen:
-26/32 completions
-296 passing yards
-4 passing TDs
-0 interceptions
-0 sacks
-9 carries - 86 yards - 3 rushing TDs
Total TDs in the game: 7
There was a cut, and a new face appeared in a medium shot. A middle-aged man wearing a cap and a sports jacket with the Cathedral West logo.
The caption at the bottom identified him as: Thiago Ramírez — Head Coach, Cathedral West.
“When I saw the schedule and knew we were playing Palisades, I was honestly calm. I knew them. I knew what to expect,” he said with a slight smile.
After a brief pause, he continued. “They had beaten Wilson, yes, but by six points. I thought it had been luck. A strange game.”
“I couldn’t have been more wrong,” he said with a light laugh.
The image briefly returned to the game. A deep, long pass from Andrew connecting with Steve. Another touchdown added to the tally.
“I never imagined seeing a freshman score seven touchdowns in a single game, especially at Palisades,” the coach said with a hint of disbelief, recalling that game.
“Palisades’ defense was still as shaky as I remembered,” he admitted, “but their offense was an unstoppable machine.”
The camera returned once more to the scoreboard: 51 points.
The final images showed Andrew walking off the field, surrounded by his teammates, exchanging high-fives with Steve, Reggie, Archie, and Kevin, as the Palisades crowd began chanting his name for the first time, and it would not be the last.
The music changed pace, becoming more dynamic and steady.
The images began to roll game after game. Quick cuts. Different plays, the same result.
Andrew throwing, Andrew running, Steve catching in the corner, Reggie breaking tackles, Archie sprinting down the sideline, Kevin holding the protection for one extra second.
“From that moment on,” Rinaldi said in voice-over, “Palisades became unrecognizable.”
The shots revealed something new: the defense adjusting. Harder hits. Clearer communication. Defensive players celebrating sacks as if they were touchdowns.
“When the offense began to dominate,” he continued, “the defense found order, and the team found an identity.”
The stadium, once nearly empty, now filled week after week. Packed stands, fans on their feet cheering.
“Palisades didn’t just make the playoffs. It won the league for the first time in its history,” he added, as images of celebration appeared, lifting the league trophy.
“Then came the section playoffs. And they won those too.”
Another trophy. Another celebration.
“And finally, the state championship.”
The camera showed a stadium with more than five thousand spectators, rare for that level. A strong opponent, champion of another section. But it wasn’t enough to stop the Eagles. The final whistle blew, and Palisades were crowned champions.
“A season with only two losses,” Rinaldi emphasized. “Both in games Andrew didn’t play.”
The final images of the segment showed Andrew lifting the different trophies alongside his teammates, one after another.
Then the image froze, and Andrew’s individual statistics from his freshman year appeared on screen.
Andrew Pritchett-Tucker — Freshman Year
Games played: 12
Total touchdowns: 72 (55 passing / 17 rushing)
Completion percentage: 74.6%
Passing yards: 4,580
Rushing yards: 1,045
Total yards: 5,625
Interceptions: 4
The music slowly faded, the volume dropping with it.
“That was only the beginning of what, unbeknownst to anyone at the time, would become the golden era of Palisades.”
The CIF made an unusual decision.
After a historic three-peat, clear margins on the scoreboard, and a team that no longer attacked without restraint but also began to show a more organized defense, Palisades was promoted to Division IV.
Bigger, more prepared opponents. The images picked up speed.
The 2009–2010 season moved forward game by game. Palisades no longer surprised, it dominated. The offense remained unstoppable, but now the defense responded. Games were decided earlier. The team controlled the tempo. Andrew no longer needed to force anything.
The result was absolute.
Fourteen games.
Fourteen wins.
Another treble in titles, against stronger opponents in a higher division.
The images showed Andrew and his teammates lifting new trophies. In just two years, an institution that had never won anything accumulated six official titles.
They were no longer a breakout team or a dark horse. They were feared, and respected.
Statistics appeared on screen once again.
Andrew Pritchett-Tucker — Sophomore Year
Games played: 14
Total touchdowns: 60 (47 passing / 13 rushing)
Completion percentage: 76.8%
Passing yards: 4,360
Rushing yards: 820
Total yards: 5,180
Interceptions: 2
A drop in touchdowns and yards, but a natural one, given the higher level of competition.
And it was worth remembering that, even though Andrew had his guard, his inner circle of trust, they were only five. In a sport with twenty-two starters, there were eleven players on defense where he couldn’t intervene. And even so, the result was the same: another treble
And there were improvements in those numbers: from four interceptions down to two, from 74% to nearly 77% completion percentage.
The image slowly faded, giving way to a new shot. A different practice field. Larger stands. Different colors. A young man sat in front of the camera, relaxed, wearing a smile that mixed confidence with nostalgia.
At the bottom of the screen, a caption appeared:
Steve Rice
Former Wide Receiver — Palisades
Current Starting WR — Notre Dame High School
Steve let out a small laugh before speaking.
“I knew it was going to happen,” he said, shrugging. “When the five of us got to high school, it was only a matter of time before we won titles. I knew it,” he emphasized.
He leaned forward slightly. “Since we were kids, it was always the same. We were unstoppable.”
“What are your earliest memories from childhood with Andrew?” Rinaldi asked.
Steve didn’t hesitate. “Playing football. We always had a ball in our hands. Andrew giving instructions, things that, back then, I didn’t even fully understand,” he said, laughing and shaking his head, amused.
“And what’s it like playing with him?” another question.
Steve answered again without thinking. “Playing with Andrew is extremely easy. You run your route and you know the ball is going to get there.”
He made a small gesture with his hand, marking the spot.
“At the right moment and in the right place, 99 percent of the time. There’s a reason he’s the best quarterback in the country, not just in our class,” Steve concluded.
He fell silent for a second, then added, “It’s really fun and easy. And honestly, I hope we get to play together again.”
The camera lingered on his face for another second, then cut again. Brief interview clips appeared: Reggie, Kevin, and Archie. All of them came to the same conclusion, in different words, they wanted to play with him again.
Rinaldi’s voice returned in voice-over as the images showed the four of them on different fields, in different colors, and at larger schools.
“After Palisades, Steve, Reggie, Kevin, and Archie made the jump to elite programs,” he said. “Today, all of them are three-star prospects, except for Steve, who is a four-star.”
The image froze on Steve catching a long pass.
“One of the most talented wide receivers of his generation.”
The images continued.
“Coincidence?” Rinaldi posed.
A brief pause.
“Hard to think so, when they all describe the same thing.”
The camera showed Palisades practices, clips taken from Andrew’s own channel videos, in high quality. Andrew pointing out routes. Correcting positions. Repeating concepts.
“Andrew didn’t just play,” the voice-over continued. “He demanded more, he trained, and he elevated everyone around him.”
The images carried on for a few more seconds.
“Just as his friends made the jump to other schools with elite football programs, what came next for Andrew was no small step, if anything, it was bigger,” the voice continued. “He was recruited by none other than... Mater Dei.”
The music began to fade slowly. The images darkened until they disappeared completely.
For a few seconds, there was no sound. Then, in white letters, a new title appeared:
THE RETURN TO THE THRONE
...
Happy holidays to everyone! Hope you have a great time!
Comments
Rob
Fire 🔥 happy holidays
Zai
I hope we get to see Andrew visiting university of Illinois (where Cam played) with Cam and maybe get to see how he interacts with Cams family in Missouri.
