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MD - Chapter 154: Starter
🕑 Added 2025-07-07 17:39:31 +0000 UTCFriday, July 16, 2010 Just over two weeks had passed since Andrew completed the physical and technical tryout at Mater Dei, where he had lit
Friday, July 16, 2010
Just over two weeks had passed since Andrew completed the physical and technical tryout at Mater Dei, where he had literally left all his teammates, and even the coaching and medical staff, speechless.
Training began on July 1st, four times a week. Andrew arrived on time to every practice. He quickly adapted to Mater Dei’s offensive playbook, that is, the plays, formations, and strategies the team used to move the ball and score points.
He absorbed routes, signals, and timing with a level of ease that surprised Rick and the rest of the offensive staff.
He formed immediate chemistry with Victor (star WR) and Thomas (TE), syncing up the timing of his passes with millimetric precision.
Max, for his part, maintained his usual level: confident, steady, but somewhat stiff and predictable.
Dylan Lagarde was pushed aside almost by inertia. His lack of spark and slow release, compared to the level of Andrew and Max, took him out of the conversation.
Then, on July 12, there was an internal scrimmage.
A scrimmage is a practice game between different groups within the same team, simulating real-game situations.
Rick organized a competitive practice under real conditions: full plays, offensive series, real defense (with limited contact), a game clock, and yardage tracking.
Each QB had four offensive drives.
Max moved the chains efficiently on the first two drives but failed to score. On the third, he was intercepted, and on the fourth, he barely managed a simulated field goal.
Andrew, on his first drive, threw a 35-yard touchdown to Victor in double coverage. On the second, he scored in the red zone with a quick pass to Duarte. On the third, he improvised by running on his own and then made a lateral throw. On the fourth, he closed with a perfect floater to the corner.
The defense clearly felt uncomfortable facing him, they didn’t know how to read him. His ability to throw before the receivers got open disrupted all their defensive schemes.
Then, on July 14, there was a scrimmage against a friendly school that Mater Dei often played informal practices with. It wasn’t a school from the Trinity League, but it was from Division 1.
Max had a modest performance. Good decisions and a touchdown, but still far behind Andrew’s level, who once again dominated.
Finally, today, Friday, July 16, Bruce will officially announce the starting lineup for the Dana Hills tournament, which takes place on Friday the 23rd and Saturday the 24th.
As he drove his Camaro down the freeway toward Mater Dei, Andrew replayed everything in his mind. The physical tests. The throws. The scrimmages. The total dominance in every aspect.
He knew that at Mater Dei, although seniority in the program and college commitments, like those to USC were respected, merit still carried more weight than reputation.
There was a reason Matt Barkley had started as a freshman in the past.
And what Andrew had shown left no room for doubt. He wasn’t just slightly better than Max. He was several steps ahead.
Physically, he had surpassed him. Technically as well.
And in real game situations, there was no comparison.
Logic said he’d be chosen. Even so, a faint tingle of anxiety lingered. Because nothing was official. Not yet.
He parked the Camaro. The sun was already starting to heat up the asphalt.
As he got out, he heard a familiar voice.
"Hey, quarterback!" shouted Nick, approaching from across the parking lot with a bottle in hand.
"Hey, Nick," Andrew greeted him with a faint smile as they shook hands casually.
"Whoa… I never get tired of seeing that Camaro. What a ride," Nick added, rubbing his chin and circling it like he was about to place a bid at an auction.
"It is," Andrew nodded, crossing his arms and looking at his car as if he still couldn’t quite believe it was his… and that he’d been driving it for over two weeks.
"What are you thinking about?" he added, glancing at Nick who was still staring at the Camaro like he was making some sort of internal decision.
"Should I become a YouTuber?" Nick blurted out suddenly, looking at him seriously. Like it was a divine revelation.
"To buy yourself a Camaro?" Andrew asked, trying not to laugh.
Nick nodded with conviction.
"You can do it. I upload three or four videos a week... At first it’s hard to get views. I had an advantage because I was kind of a pioneer. Now there are more people doing it, but if you're from Mater Dei and you have good content, you’ll get views. If you’re consistent, maybe in a year you can already make good money."
Nick sighed.
"Three or four videos… that’s a lot. Filming, editing, knowing what to say on camera. It’s not like I’m introverted," he said, pointing proudly at himself, "but between that, school, practices, games… I don’t know if I’ve got the time."
Just then, footsteps echoed nearby. Both turned.
Victor Blackwell was walking toward them with a relaxed stride, confident attitude, headphones hanging around his neck, and chains gleaming on his chest.
"What’s up, superstars?" he greeted them with a cheerful handshake, first Nick, then Andrew.
When he saw the Camaro, he paused for a moment, "Clean… Very clean," he murmured, nodding in approval like a luxury car critic. Even though he’d already seen it, it never failed to impress him.
"We better head to the gym," said Andrew, checking the time on his phone. "If we’re even one minute late, Bruce makes us run five laps."
"Ten at least," Nick said with a laugh, as the three began walking toward the entrance.
"And with a weighted vest if he catches you smiling," added Victor, as if he knew that from experience.
As they walked toward the gym, tossing soft jabs and joking about Bruce, the heat rising from the asphalt seemed to ease under the lightness of the moment.
Andrew had quickly become close with Nick and Victor, the two most explosive pieces of the ground and air offense. They shared more than just plays, they talked about football, the gym, and random nonsense.
He’d also built solid chemistry with Thomas Duarte, the calm, towering, nearly expressionless tight end who seemed unfazed by everything… except perfectly placed passes. Thomas didn’t talk much, but his body language made it clear, he felt comfortable with Andrew.
Sure, Max was friends with all of them. He had history, seniority, shared time. But this was Mater Dei. Here, you didn’t earn the spot through memories or commitments to USC. You earned it through performance.
And the scrimmages had left no doubt.
Andrew was better at everything.
And the receivers and other offensive players knew it. They didn’t need to say it out loud. They showed it through small gestures: a more genuine “nice pass,” a subtle nod when returning to the huddle, a full willingness to follow his lead.
It wasn’t betrayal. It was logic.
When your QB gives you the best chance to shine, to boost your stats, and to win… you follow him.
And Andrew had already earned that spot over the past few days.
Now all that was left was for the staff to make it official.
Though for Nick and Victor, Andrew should be the starter for the summer 7-on-7 tournament.
"Oh, right… Victor!" Nick suddenly exclaimed, stopping in his tracks like he’d just remembered he left the oven on.
"Hm? What is it?" asked Victor, raising an eyebrow at the sudden urgency.
The campus still stretched out ahead of them, and at that relaxed pace, it would take a couple more minutes to reach the gym.
"USC’s sanction," said Nick, lowering his voice, but with that mix of surprise and intensity you use when something is serious.
Victor paused for a second. His expression shifted subtly.
"They made it official yesterday, right?" asked Andrew without turning around, but clearly aware. He had read the whole report over breakfast.
It had made a huge splash across the entire sports world, headline news everywhere.
Of course, Andrew already knew all about it, but experiencing it with full awareness was much more thrilling. In his past life, when this happened, he hadn’t even turned ten. He’d only researched the matter years later.
"Yeah. NCAA came down hard," Nick continued, "Two years with no postseason. They took away scholarships. Vacated the 2004 national championship. And the worst part… they’re demanding Reggie Bush return the Heisman."
Victor pressed his lips together. He had a verbal agreement with USC. Nothing signed yet, but in the football world, those agreements carried weight.
"Yeah, I know..." he said, without his usual confident smile.
He was set to join USC the following year in September, meaning that in his freshman college season, there would still be one year left on the postseason ban, and that meant missing out on the big games: the Rose Bowl, the championships…
Andrew didn’t say anything, but glanced at him from the side.
"Still, they’ve got the name. And they’re still USC," added Nick, trying to soften the blow.
Victor nodded slowly, "It’s a tough hit. But they’re still Top 3 in the country, no doubt. And in California, there’s no debate. They’re the school with the most conference championships, the most national titles… so my decision doesn’t change. Even if my first year is sanctioned, maybe I won’t even be a starter..."
Even though Victor trusted his talent, he was talking about a whole different level than high school.
It’s not easy to be a starter your freshman year in college, especially if someone older and already established is ahead of you.
There were very rare cases, like his old friend and former teammate Matt Barkley, who arrived at USC as a freshman and earned the starting quarterback job during summer camp.
Just like Andrew was about to do here, but in college, it’s much harder.
It was the first time in USC history that a true freshman quarterback started the season as the starter.
Then, as they climbed the gym steps, Victor turned toward them.
"But you guys… if you crush it this season, offers are gonna start coming in. Got anything in mind yet?"
Nick shrugged, but there was a sparkle in his eyes, "If USC calls me, I’m going. Simple as that."
Victor smiled, "Yeah, I saw that answer coming."
"What about you, quarterback?" he asked, turning to Andrew.
"I don’t know. I’ll see what options I have when the time comes, when all the cards are on the table," Andrew said with a shrug.
It was true, but not entirely.
He couldn’t tell those two die-hard USC fans that he actually wasn’t planning to go there.
That his intention was to commit to their direct rival: UCLA.
In terms of history and championships, sure, USC was the pinnacle.
They dominated the Pac-10 conference (soon to be Pac-12), had multiple national championships, and a historical connection with the best high school programs in the country.
UCLA, while still a strong program, didn’t have that same level of greatness. Just one national championship. Fewer Rose Bowl appearances. Less history overall.
But they were still a Division I FBS university, the highest level of college football in the United States.
If Andrew had to place UCLA’s program in an all-time national ranking, he’d put them somewhere around 25th to 30th, while USC would be comfortably in the Top 3.
That’s why most high school players, when offered by both USC and UCLA, will choose USC without hesitation.
Prestige, history, championships, if the scholarships are similar, there’s no debate.
But Andrew didn’t want to follow the crowd or add his name to USC’s long list of legends. He didn’t want to be just another trophy on their shelf.
He wanted to make his own mark. To lead a program like UCLA into a true golden era.
And for that, for the philosophy, the challenge, and the potential, UCLA was the perfect fit.
Of course, it was still too early to focus on that.
Right now, he needed to concentrate on his final two years of high school, and only after that worry about choosing a college.
The three of them walked through the gym doors. The blast of air conditioning hit their faces like a wave of relief.
The place was already buzzing with activity.
Andrew, flanked by Nick and Victor, headed toward the group.
He knew what he had to do. As quarterback, and potential starter, he couldn’t just stand in a corner waiting for the day’s announcement.
He was the face of the team. The one who needed to set the tone.
He went around, greeting everyone with firm handshakes.
Some welcomed him with genuine smiles. They had seen what he could do in the scrimmages, and they respected it. They knew that, even though he was new, he had earned it.
A few others, however, greeted him more cautiously. It wasn’t disdain, it was loyalty to Max. A long-time teammate. A leader who was still there. Though they all understood merit was everything, so they didn’t show any hostility toward Andrew.
When Andrew got to Max, the atmosphere tensed just slightly.
Andrew extended his hand. Max took it.
The handshake was brief. Formal.
Max, who had always been at Mater Dei, knew that meritocracy was everything. Still, he wasn’t about to be friendly, or become friends, with Andrew.
Thomas Duarte, on the other hand, greeted him with respect and a rare show of camaraderie for someone usually so reserved.
A simple, “You good?”
But coming from Thomas, that was practically a speech.
A few minutes later, Bruce Rollinson’s whistle rang from the center of the room.
All the players gathered in a semicircle. It was the moment many had been waiting for.
"Alright," said Bruce, his tone serious, a folder in hand, "One week away from the Dana Hills tournament, we’re announcing the seven starting offensive players and seven on defense."
He started with the defense.
"Base scheme: 4-3," he said, and began naming players, full names.
There weren’t really any surprises.
Then he moved on to the offense.
"Center: Tyrell Scott."
"Guards: Matt Benson and Josh Yoo."
"Tackles: Chris Lang and Isaac Munroe."
"Tight End: Thomas Duarte."
"Wide Receivers: Victor Blackwell and Sedric Hill."
"Running Back: Nick Richardson."
"And starting quarterback for the Dana Hills tournament…"
Bruce paused briefly, something he hadn’t done with any other name before.
Andrew wondered whether the big man was doing it on purpose or not.
"Andrew Pritchett-Tucker."
The silence was brief, but heavy.
Then several teammates patted him on the back to congratulate him.
Victor gave him a soft elbow nudge. Nick smiled and gave him a thumbs-up.
Andrew didn’t overreact. He just nodded calmly. He had to win that summer tournament to prove that Bruce and the rest of the staff hadn’t made a mistake.
That day’s practice focused entirely on the starting team.
Offense and defense working together, synchronizing movements, fine-tuning details.
Routes, adjustments, coverages, signals.
It was a countdown. Seven days to Dana Hills and Bruce wasn’t leaving anything to chance.
Practice ended.
Andrew showered, changed, and walked out with his backpack slung over one shoulder and his hair still damp.
He walked with Nick, Victor, and a few other teammates toward the parking lot, chatting casually.
He said goodbye with a quick nod and a hand slap, then got into his Camaro. Just as he closed the door, he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket.
Incoming call: Grumpy Old Man (Jay).
He smiled, raising an eyebrow, and answered.
“Hello? … Yeah… Yeah… Alright, I’ll be there.”
He hung up.
A short, to-the-point call, very Jay.
He had asked if Andrew had been named the starter.
Andrew had confirmed.
Jay, in his usual gruff-but-warm style, said Gloria would cook something special and that they were expecting him that night for a family dinner to celebrate.
Just as he put the phone away, it buzzed again.
Father (Mitchell).
He answered, but before he could say anything, Cam’s voice was already bouncing through the speaker:
“WELL?! DID YOU MAKE IT?!”
Mitchell, with a more composed, but equally tense tone, asked, “Are you the starter?”
Andrew smiled and leaned his head back against the seat, “Yeah. I’m starting for Dana Hills.”
A burst of noise erupted on the other end: a half-scream from Cam, a “I knew it!” in the background, and a relieved sigh from Mitchell.
“I’m proud of you, Andrew,” Mitchell said sincerely.
“Our starting quarterback for Mater Dei!” Cam said excitedly.
Lily could be heard in the background, babbling something enthusiastically too.
“Thanks…” Andrew replied with a soft smile, happy to feel his family’s happiness.
“Oh yeah, grandpa just called me and invited us all to dinner tonight to celebrate,” Andrew added.
The family plans for the night were already set. As the call with Mitchell ended, the phone buzzed again.
Incoming call: Aunt Claire.
Andrew let out a small nasal laugh and answered.
“IS HE STARTING OR NOT?!” several voices shouted at once over the speaker: Phil, Haley, Alex, and Luke, all talking over each other.
“Enough, enough, everyone shut up! He answered the phone already!” Claire cut in with her mom-command tone, the classic Dunphy mom voice dealing with chaos, “Andrew, are you starting or not?”
“Hi everyone… Yes, I’m starting for Dana Hills,” Andrew answered calmly.
“BOOM BABY!” Phil shouted in the background. “I knew it! I knew it! Let’s go, champ!”
“Told you he’d do it,” said Haley, with her usual mix of pride and vanity.
“Technically, he still has to perform well in the tournament so they don’t bench him afterward…” pointed out Alex, ever the analyst. “But I’m happy for you.”
“Will there be cheerleaders?!” asked Luke, excited.
“Luke!” Claire snapped instantly in that tired-mom voice.
'Hormones are really kicking in…' Andrew thought with a smile, shaking his head slightly.
“Jay’s inviting everyone to dinner tonight, Gloria’s cooking,” said Andrew.
"Great, we’ll be there," said Claire with conviction. "I’m proud of you, Andrew."
"I’m bringing brownies! With chocolate chips and love!" Phil shouted again from the background.
Andrew hung up with a smile and sat in silence for a few seconds, staring at the dark screen of his phone.
In his previous life, he had also been in this position: a starting elite quarterback.
But he had been an orphan since he was ten. After his grandfather’s death, he was raised by close friends of the old man… good people, yes, but it wasn’t the same.
He had never received calls like this. No shouts of joy, no promises of homemade brownies, no celebratory dinners.
His victories had been acknowledged in silence, or with quick pats on the back. Never with genuine enthusiasm.
His teammates in Texas always had family cheering from the stands, celebrating with them after victories, he didn’t.
But now, he did have a family that supported him.
Of course, since arriving in this new life, it wasn’t the first time he’d experienced this kind of excitement from his family.
In Elementary, Middle, and now High School tournaments, his current family had always been there: cheering, applauding, hugging, celebrating.
But this time, it felt different.
Maybe because this was Mater Dei. The elite of high school football.
And because he hadn’t just earned the starting spot, he had beaten out a quarterback one year older, with three years in the system, and a verbal commitment to USC.
Maybe that’s why his family had seemed more nervous, more anxious… more proud.
They were starting to realize this wasn’t just youthful talent or a school sports phase like many athletes go through before fading into nothing.
Andrew’s career was real.
Football wasn’t just a passion, it was his path and he was getting closer and closer to the professional level.
'Next week’s going to be interesting,' Andrew thought as he started the car.
He had the Dana Hills tournament on Friday the 23rd. They’d only play on Saturday the 24th if they made it past the group stage, which of course, they would.
But before that, on Thursday the 22nd, he had another important date: his second subscriber meetup.
The first had been on October 8, 2009, a special event to celebrate hitting one million subscribers.
Now, nearly a year later and with over double that, 2 million subscribers, he was holding his second meetup in the same place, as a kind of tradition.
And that wasn’t all.
Sunday the 25th was the last day of San Diego Comic-Con.
He had bought tickets months ago with Howard and Leonard, just like the year before: nerd culture, comics, movies, cosplay, collectibles, video games.
Of course, this year he wouldn’t be going all four days. With everything on his schedule, he’d only attend on Sunday.
But that day was the best: closing panels, big announcements, special guests.
Between football, YouTube, and Comic-Con, it was going to be a busy week, but a fun one.
Comments
Guido
Sometimes with Jay he does call him grandpa, other times I forget and say Jay. As for the parents, since there are two dads, sometimes to avoid confusion I make him say their names.
Guido
number 12
Amos
Question. Why is he always calling jay, well, jay. Why not grandpa? Even with his parents sometimes, he calls them by names. Am I missing something?
Josh Muggs
By the way what’s Andrew’s jersey number ?
