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MD - Chapter 221: Improvise
🕑 Added 2025-11-15 16:49:26 +0000 UTCFriday, November 14, 2010
6:26 p.m.
A gray Mazda 3 was parked on the curb in front of a house with a sea-green façade and a slightly neglected garden.
Inside the car were Kevin, in the driver’s seat, and Archie beside him. Their destination was the stadium where the semifinal between Mater Dei and Mission Viejo would be played.
Kevin, who was staring at the house through the window, couldn’t take it anymore and started honking.
“Come on, man, we’re late!” he grumbled.
They had more than a thirty-minute drive ahead of them, and the game would start at seven.
Archie, next to him, shook his head while looking at his phone, quickly sending messages in the chat with Steve, “The bastard isn’t answering, I’ve already sent him ten messages,” he muttered as he typed rapidly.
But right then, the front door opened. Steve came out: dressed entirely in black, hoodie with the hood up, athletic pants, and Nike sneakers. His face was hard to make out with the low lighting, dusk was falling over the neighborhood and the house lights were still off.
Archie lowered the window and yelled, “Come on, grandma! Today would be nice!”
Steve looked at him without changing his pace. He finally reached the car, opened the back door, and got in without saying a word.
Kevin eyed him through the rear-view mirror with a mocking smile, “What’s up, lady? Were you doing your makeup?” he joked as he pulled away.
“No. I was sleeping,” Steve replied, staring out the window, humorless.
Kevin and Archie exchanged a quick look and sighed quietly.
Archie tried to break the tension, speaking in a conciliatory tone, almost as if trying to shake him out of it, “Still down about the loss? Come on, man, get over it. We’ve all had to deal with losing at some point, and we’re still alive.”
Though of course “all of us” didn’t include Andrew, but Steve understood.
Kevin nodded, “It’s true. We’re not used to having the season end this early, but what we did isn’t nothing. We adapted, competed, and started at elite schools.”
Indeed, all of them, Andrew, Kevin, Archie, Steve, and Reggie, had ended up in high schools within the Southern Section, the toughest region in the state.
Reggie had gone to a D2 program aiming for promotion; Andrew, on the other hand, to the hardest league of all.
But the point was that they had all leveled up. What united them wasn’t just the past at Palisades, but the structure Andrew had left them.
He had trained them since they were five years old: shaped them physically, technically, but above all mentally. He taught them to read the game, understand coverages, anticipate, make decisions under pressure.
That preparation was what kept them standing, despite being separated, in competitive environments where other students crumbled.
That’s why, even though each of them was living his own process, Archie struggling to adapt with no playoffs, Kevin falling in the round of sixteen, Reggie still alive in the semifinals, they all shared the same foundation: a standard impossible to forget.
“Remember what Andrew always said,” Archie said, lifting a finger as if he were a teacher, “Character is measured after the loss, not during the victory.”
Kevin let out a short laugh as he turned the wheel, “Funny coming from someone who never loses.”
To them, Andrew’s success at Mater Dei wasn’t surprising. It was logical. They knew him better than anyone when it came to football.
Andrew was a maniac: obsessive with detail, habits, and constant improvement.
Sometimes Steve would joke that he had childhood memories of Andrew being that disciplined even as a kid, passing it on to them as if he were molding them for something.
Archie smiled, looking at him through the rear-view mirror, “The point is, look at us now. All of us making it… and you even more, Mr. Four-Star. Who would’ve thought?” he said teasingly, as if Steve were an impostor.
Steve had always had a more relaxed attitude than the rest. He was the jokester, the one who seemed uninterested, the kind of guy who gave the impression he never took anything seriously.
At Palisades, he even had his own little “star phase”: even as just a sophomore, he walked the hallways with the air of someone who knew everyone was looking at him.
That’s why no one expected him, of all people, to be the one who adapted the best to his new team. But he did. At Notre Dame, he not only earned a starting spot, he took it from a senior wide receiver and finished the season with the best offensive stats on the roster.
That progress earned him a four-star rating, a level reserved for only a few hundred players in the entire country. In the Rivals and 247Sports system, five-stars, like Andrew, were extremely rare: out of thousands of high-school athletes, barely twenty or thirty reached that rank each year.
Below them were the four-stars, around two or three hundred in total, considered the elite of each state and with direct offers from Power Five programs.
Then came the three-stars, where Reggie, Kevin, and Archie were ranked. And that wasn’t a small thing. Those players were already considered FBS prospects, with full scholarships and guaranteed spots in competitive programs. Thousands dreamed of that and never even got a call from a recruiter.
“Plus, with what you did in the playoffs, when they do the new re-ranking you’re definitely going to move up into the top 10 receivers of your class,” Kevin said, trying to cheer him up.
Steve let out a dry laugh without taking his eyes off the window. He had played well in the two playoff games he’d participated in.
“That’s not it,” he said at last, shrugging. “I’m already getting over the loss. I’m not that mentally weak to still be crying about that…”
He paused briefly, then added with a sigh, “It’s something else… my girlfriend broke up with me.”
The silence lasted less than a second. Archie, who had just taken a sip of water, spat everything out at once, coughing and laughing simultaneously. Kevin, startled, jerked the wheel slightly, making the car wobble in the lane.
Archie turned his head toward him. “Seriously?”
Steve nodded without much energy.
“Hell of a week, huh?” Archie said, wiping his mouth, still processing the news.
“That sucks, man, I’m sorry. How long were you together?” Kevin asked, regaining control of the car.
“Almost two months,” Steve replied with resignation. “The two-month curse. It’s the third time it’s happened.”
“What happened?” Kevin asked, and Steve began talking more, typical of him once he started.
He explained that, according to her, he never paid attention to her, that he seemed to live only for football.
“It’s not my fault practices are every day and last over two hours!” Steve complained, gesturing with his hands.
Archie raised an eyebrow. “What about weekends?”
“That’s the worst part! We did see each other Saturdays and Sundays, but she said she wanted more time. She had too much free time, I guess,” Steve huffed, leaning his head back against the seat.
Kevin glanced at him. “And why were you with her then? If she was that clingy, she doesn’t sound like a great match.”
Steve stayed quiet for a few seconds, long enough for Archie and Kevin to exchange a curious look.
“Ahem…” Steve cleared his throat. “Let’s just say she had… good attributes.”
Archie burst out laughing. “So you’re one of those, huh?”
Kevin shook his head. “If everything is based on that, how do you expect to break the two-month curse? Sooner or later you’ll get bored. There has to be more than just physical connection.”
“You sound like my mom,” Steve muttered. “Since when do I need some deep connection to have a girlfriend? It’ll take me forever to find someone like that… Besides…” he paused, lowering his voice with a mischievous tone, “who said having sex after a game doesn’t help with recovery? It’s science, bro.”
Archie laughed again. “Yeah, sure, science,” he said, making air quotes. “I highly doubt you do it for ‘physical recovery.’”
“Yeah,” Kevin added, laughing, “the only person who could actually do that for recovery reasons instead of lust would be Andrew, not you.”
Steve raised his hands in surrender, smiling, “Okay, okay, I admit it. It wasn’t exactly for recovery.”
He paused, shrugging. “But hey, nobody’s perfect.”
The atmosphere became more relaxed, Steve’s mood lifting simply by being around his friends.
“By the way,” Steve said, shifting the topic, “did you guys see what Jimmy Clausen said?”
The laughter died instantly. Kevin frowned. “Yes, of course.”
Archie scoffed. “That guy thinks he’s hot shit, and his career is falling apart. He talks like he’s still a star.”
Steve nodded with a disdainful grimace. “I’d pay to see his face when Andrew breaks his record.”
“The internet is going to explode when that happens,” Archie said with a crooked smile. “I can already imagine the memes, the comparisons, everyone clowning on Clausen.”
Kevin, more serious, muttered as he merged onto the highway, “Yeah… though when you think about it, it’s kind of sad. At our age he was a legend, and now he turned into… that.”
Clausen didn’t really have fans anymore, not like before. When he arrived in college, he had a huge following: students, alumni, program die-hards, and even people who had followed him since high school. Everyone expected him to bring Notre Dame back to glory.
But none of that happened. And his arrogant statements, excessive confidence, and attitude slowly eroded the sympathy and admiration he once had.
“Bah, he brought that on himself,” Steve said with a dismissive wave. “And I hope Andrew sends him a message when he passes him.”
Archie grinned, certain of what was coming. “Count on it. If there’s one thing we know about Andrew, it’s that he doesn’t stay quiet.”
They knew him all too well. Despite his great public image, the disciplined, respectful player who always took photos with fans and spoke with humility, they knew Andrew had an edge that rarely surfaced.
That side only appeared in specific situations, and almost always for one reason: when someone provoked him. It could be a rival talking trash on the field or a comment like Clausen’s.
Andrew answered on the field, yes, with touchdowns and ridiculous stats, but against those comments he always knew how to choose his words, sharp phrases that left others with no comeback.
Sometimes, behind his calm smile, there was an intensity that demanded silence. He was the same guy who could give an inspiring locker-room speech and a minute later stare down an opponent and say something that left him speechless.
They kept talking until they finally reached the stadium.
“Well… five minutes before seven,” Kevin murmured, glancing at the dashboard clock with relief.
The relief didn’t last.
The parking lot was packed. Endless rows of cars, headlights everywhere, horns blaring, and people walking around in Mater Dei and Mission Viejo jerseys.
“Great… this looks like fucking Disneyland,” Archie cursed, staring out the window.
“Not a single free spot,” added Steve.
Kevin kept driving slowly, weaving through the parking lanes with his patience wearing thin. “There’s gotta be something around here,” he grumbled, maneuvering between two cars.
After a minute, Steve straightened up in the backseat and pointed enthusiastically. “There!” he said, gesturing toward a side row. “That one’s open!”
Kevin turned the wheel in that direction, but as he got closer he frowned. Painted on the blue and white pavement was the unmistakable handicap symbol glowing under the lights.
“It’s for disabled parking, Steve.”
“And what about it? Nothing’s gonna happen, it’s just for a few hours,” Steve replied, shrugging. “Come on, don’t be a coward.”
Kevin looked at him through the rear-view mirror, unsure, “Yeah, right, until they tow the car away.”
Steve insisted, “No one’s gonna notice, man. Look at all these people, you can’t even breathe here.”
Kevin huffed, defeated. “If we get fined, you’re paying for it.”
“I accept the risk,” Steve said with a triumphant smile.
The Mazda stopped and the three of them got out. They had barely closed the doors when they saw a security guard approaching, flashlight in hand and a suspicious look on his face.
“Great… we’re in trouble,” Kevin muttered under his breath. “This is gonna slow us down even more.”
Before he could say anything else, Steve was already acting. He closed his eyes, reached one hand toward Archie, and with the other started fumbling in the air as he staggered forward.
“Guide me, brother…” Steve said dramatically, deliberately bumping into the bumper of a nearby car.
“Seriously?” Archie asked, unable to believe it.
Steve barely smiled. “Yeah, improv. Just play along,” he whispered, gripping Archie’s arm tighter and adding a slight limp.
The guard stopped in front of them, frowning.
“Everything alright, boys? You heading to the game?” he asked, suspiciously eyeing Steve, who kept his eyes closed.
“Yes, sir,” Steve replied softly, almost innocently. “I can’t watch it, but my brother will narrate it for me. Since I was little I’ve followed the games by radio… and that’s enough to make me happy.”
Archie bit his lip to contain his laughter, while Kevin nodded at the guard, trying to freeze his face to keep from laughing.
“Ah… right,” the man said, not quite sure how to respond. “Well, enjoy the game.”
“Thank you,” Steve answered with a slight bow of his head, eyes still closed.
The guard walked away slowly, still glancing at them from the corner of his eye. As soon as he turned the corner, Archie burst into a muffled laugh.
“I can’t believe that worked.”
Kevin shook his head, chuckling as they made their way toward the stadium, “I didn’t know you liked acting.”
The three of them moved through the crowd, laughing. The sound of horns, chants, and music grew louder with every step.
They handed their tickets at the entrance, walked through the lit corridor, and began climbing the metal stairs toward the stands.
The scene in front of them was nothing like a typical high school game: ESPN cameras everywhere, tripods, cables, tech crew running with headsets, commentators reviewing papers, and lights aiming at the field from every angle. The atmosphere felt more professional, almost college-level.
They climbed a few more steps and then saw them: Andrew’s family, seated together, waving at familiar faces in the crowd.
Cam, excited, waved enthusiastically when he spotted them. Mitch, more reserved, smiled warmly. Both greeted them with the familiarity of people who had known them since childhood and always held them in high regard.
Jay saw them and nodded in a subtle greeting. Phil, far louder, raised both arms excitedly when he recognized them, Luke did the same.
Steve, Archie, and Kevin waved back and, after exchanging a few words, continued toward their seats a few rows higher.
The murmuring of the crowd turned into a roar as the teams ran onto the field.
The game was about to begin.
Comments
Alkole
Honestly not wven looking forward to the game but the interview afterwards tbh we already know andrew gonna crush them
Josh Muggs
Thank you for the chapter
