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MD - Chapter 196: Final of the League IV
🕑 Added 2025-09-27 15:45:33 +0000 UTCHi everyone. I want to clarify something about Pippa.
That last chapter, told first from the Fitz-Amobi family’s perspective and then from Pippa’s, was simply meant to show how both of them were living in the days following the breakup with Andrew. I included it because in the poll, the winning option was that you wanted to see it.
But let’s be clear: this does not mean that Andrew and Pippa will get back together. That chapter is closed. Andrew will move forward with his life, and so will Pippa.
That’s all, now I leave you with today’s chapter.
...
Mater Dei Stadium in Santa Ana
The last quarter was about to begin, and the atmosphere in Santa Ana felt like an early celebration. The stands, dyed in red, vibrated with chants, flags, and drums, celebrating as if the Trinity League trophy were already secured.
The lead on the scoreboard seemed enough to crown the night with a golden finish.
The math was clear: Servite needed two touchdowns to tie. One with a one-point conversion and another with a two-point conversion. And that was assuming Mater Dei didn’t score again. Not impossible, but it required their offense to put together two perfect drives and for Mater Dei’s defense to suddenly collapse.
On the sideline, Andrew sat on the bench, waiting for the whistle to start the fourth quarter. He wasn’t looking at anyone, nor reacting to the noise. His gaze was lost on the field with a neutral expression. Around him, the ovation seemed not to reach him.
'I’m hungry…' Andrew thought, already imagining which restaurant he would go to with his family and friends and what he would order from the menu.
His last meal had been at four in the afternoon, and it was something light.
Nick, Victor, Sedric, and the rest of the offense were joking among themselves, confident and excited, as if already expecting the next spectacular play from the offensive machine Andrew commanded.
Rick and the offensive coaches barely exchanged words, there wasn’t much to correct, in fact, nothing. They couldn’t help but glance at Andrew from time to time with a mix of routine and amazement: they had been watching him act this way for months, week after week, but it never ceased to impress that a 16-year-old junior could seem so unshaken amid chaos and play at a level that looked like college.
Even more so that night, with four touchdowns behind him against the reigning Southern Section champion. Many already thought the fifth was only a matter of time.
A few yards away, the mood was radically different. Bruce, with a furrowed brow and clenched jaw, stood with the defensive coordinator as he harshly scolded the defensive starters.
Kevin, the leader of the defense and a four-star prospect, listened with his helmet in hand, eyes down. The defense had allowed two touchdowns and a field goal.
In any other Trinity League game, giving up 18 points in three quarters was a very good performance. But unlucky for Servite, not tonight. Not with Andrew on the other side, doubling Cody’s numbers and reducing Servite’s defense to a shadow.
The plan had been clear from the start: contain Servite’s offense. They weren’t a bad unit, far from it, getting here undefeated required production. But everyone knew their real power was in their defense. That was their pride, that was where their stars were.
For Cody Fajardo to have already scored two touchdowns and added a field goal was more than expected. In another setting, such a performance would put him in the running for MVP of the night. But in this context, against the storm that was Andrew, it wasn’t enough.
Bruce didn’t want the defense to allow another touchdown; he didn’t want the outcome to depend on how much the offense could score. That wasn’t the kind of Mater Dei he wanted to see.
The whistle blew. The final quarter began.
The eleven defensive players started walking toward the field, adjusting helmets and gloves, with the weight of pressure on their shoulders.
Yes, most likely they would celebrate a historic league title in twelve minutes, but they didn’t want to be remembered as the defense that failed.
On television, more than a million people were probably watching, they had to rise to the occasion.
On the bench, Andrew remained seated. He knew it wasn’t his turn yet. Then he raised his hand and called out to Kevin. The defensive captain approached with a raised eyebrow, curious and surprised by the sudden gesture.
Andrew tilted his head slightly toward him, “I understand why the coaches chewed you out. But listen… right now it’s not about formulas or complicated strategies. Enjoy this last quarter. Loosen up. Play calmly. I’m not going to let this game slip away from us. Trust that, and enjoy.”
Kevin looked at him in silence. A junior saying those words might sound strange in any other context. But not coming from Andrew. With what he was accomplishing this season, with the way he was carrying the team while also giving them confidence and always showing serenity, his respect for him was absolute.
“Fine. I’ll do it. I’ll sack Cody at least twice this quarter,” Kevin replied firmly, turning around to rejoin the defense.
Andrew allowed himself a faint smile and raised his voice just enough so Kevin would hear him before walking away:
“That’s the spirit! Don’t let him get too close to my numbers. I don’t want to lose the spotlight as quarterback.”
If Cody managed a third touchdown, or even a fourth, Andrew’s stats would look less impressive. Of course, he meant it more as a joke than anything serious. What really mattered to him was winning the game.
Kevin turned his head for a second, wanting to say: “It’s impossible for Cody to steal your spotlight,” since at best he might score one more touchdown. But he knew Andrew was joking.
He let out a brief chuckle and looked forward again. He knew Andrew was laughing at himself, at the media attention that had been following him for a while.
For Kevin, those few words and that spark of humor in the middle of the tension relieved the pressure more than any lecture from the coaches.
Meanwhile, Andrew leaned back on the bench, waiting for his turn with the same calm that drove rivals and haters crazy from the outside.
Servite’s offense knew there was no time for hesitation: they needed quick touchdowns if they wanted to keep their hopes alive. But haste usually breeds mistakes.
And that’s exactly where Kevin appeared, renewed after Andrew’s words. With clean, precise aggression, he broke through the offensive line twice and brought Cody down hard. Two sacks in under three minutes.
Servite’s drive crumbled. No touchdown, not even a field goal, the ball went back to Mater Dei.
The defensive coordinator was the first to applaud, followed by Bruce, who allowed himself a faint smile, and then the rest of the staff. The home crowd erupted in cheers, finally grateful for a solid response from the defense.
On the sideline, Andrew slowly rose from his seat. He didn’t need to say a word. The moment he stood up, the murmurs turned into a roar, and the entire offense moved with him, as if they had just been waiting for him to rise so they could follow.
Kevin, still gasping from the sacks, watched him walk forward with that unshakable calm. He couldn’t help but feel something unusual: admiration, respect and the sense that he was witnessing something out of the ordinary.
In elite teams like Mater Dei, it was typical for the offense to have its leader, almost always the quarterback, and the defense its own: a middle linebacker, a safety, or in Kevin’s case, a lineman as their standard-bearer.
Two distinct cores working in parallel, supporting one another, but each with its own general.
Even in Matt Barkley’s era, considered exceptional for his charisma and media weight, the defense still had its own internal leader who kept the unit together. That was how it always had been.
But Andrew had broken that unwritten rule. Kevin and the other defensive players listened to him in practices, in games…
He was different from Barkley. More serious, more stoic in games, less prone to grand gestures. And yet, more absolute in leadership. There was something about him that transcended the lines on the field and pulled everyone along equally.
“Not giving instructions, coach?” Rick asked with a faint smile, arms crossed beside Bruce, watching Andrew step onto the field, followed by the entire offense like a general leading his troops.
Bruce shook his head slightly, calm. “No need,” he murmured without looking away. “Andrew already knows what has to be done.”
The strategy was clear: a slow, smart, clock-controlling drive. Give Nick more carries on the ground, mix in short, safe passes, minimize risks.
No unnecessary bombs, no plays that could end in an interception and reopen the game. They didn’t need another ESPN highlight, they needed to close out the league.
Bruce, with his two decades of experience, thought that with any other quarterback he would have reminded him what to do and to avoid risky plays.
But with Andrew, it wasn’t necessary. Since he had arrived in the summer, he had proven it: no matter that his stats were record-breaking or that he had the ability to put together a two- or three-minute drive with an absurdly high completion rate, he wasn’t the kind of kid who played to pad his numbers.
Andrew was a team player. He always had been. His focus wasn’t on shining above everyone else or feeding his own stats, no matter that his talent made mistakes rare.
The only thing that drove him was winning. And that was precisely the reason Bruce trusted that the last quarter was in good hands.
And so it was. Andrew kept throwing, but never looked for the deep ball. He stuck to short and medium routes, always safe, keeping the clock running.
On every play he pushed the count to the limit, deliberately running down the play clock. He could get rid of the ball in just over two seconds, but instead he waited three or four, squeezing every golden second, except when Niklas broke the pocket and forced him to release earlier. Every moment mattered.
The shift drove Servite’s defense crazy. Before, Mater Dei had been a missile, a storm that advanced in two minutes and killed the game. Now they were a tortoise, a steamroller squeezing every second from the clock. And they knew: it was Andrew dictating the rhythm, stretching out the torment.
Five minutes later, when everyone’s patience seemed on the verge of breaking, Andrew struck. At the twenty-yard line, he saw an opening, ran behind his line’s protection, and with a couple of quick jukes left the last defenders behind. He crossed into the end zone.
Touchdown. His fifth of the night. This time, on the ground.
The stadium roared like never before. Thousands of red jerseys stood, screaming his name in a thunderous chorus.
On the sideline, Bruce and Rick exchanged a look of satisfaction. There was no euphoria in them, just the expression of men who knew the job was done.
Andrew celebrated with claps, quick hugs.
The kicker came in for the extra point and nailed it. 40–18.
The clock showed a little over three minutes. Servite went back on the field without any real hope. At best, they could dress up the score. They tried a quick drive, but Kevin and the defense, wounded in their pride, tightened up. They didn’t allow another touchdown, only a field goal in the last minute: 40–21.
The rest was routine. Andrew went back on the field, mostly just to wait for the final whistle. Unless, in the last minute, he threw a deep ball.
But Servite’s elite defense, even beaten down and knowing the league title was decided, wasn’t about to let the blowout get worse.
At last, the whistle echoed in Santa Ana.
Mater Dei, Trinity League champions.
“Champions, baby!” shouted Victor, leaping onto Andrew’s back with more than 180 pounds of pure euphoria.
Andrew stood firm, barely moving.
Sedric, Nick, and the others surrounded him instantly, chanting over and over: “Champions, champions!”
Andrew smiled. At last he let go of the unshakable serenity he had shown during the game. The focus on the field, all of it was behind him now. He could finally relax. The first step was complete: champions of the toughest league in the country.
The Trinity League title was theirs.
He celebrated with everyone: offense and defense alike. Even Kevin hugged him tightly, and the linemen lifted him by the shoulders amid laughter.
The coaches and assistants, a bit more restrained, bumped fists with smiles of joy and relief at having achieved the goal. The first objective of the season was secured. The playoffs had been guaranteed weeks earlier, but finishing undefeated and holding the trophy in their hands was something else.
It was pure confidence heading into the round of 16.
Bruce, arms crossed and with a faint smile, watched them from the sideline. He wouldn’t bore them with speeches now. Monday the routine would return, but tonight was for celebrating.
“A historic league campaign, Bruce,” Rick said as he walked up.
Bruce nodded slightly. Rick was right.
At Mater Dei, winning the league might sound like routine, but not like this. This championship had been won with a dominance never seen before. They had just defeated the reigning Southern Section champion, Servite, the team that boasted the best defense in the state, by 40–21. Nineteen points of difference.
As the celebrations went on, Andrew noticed movement at midfield. Several league staff members were dragging pieces of a portable stage: metal platforms, rolled-up red carpet, and a small podium. The stage for the award ceremony was taking shape.
With the euphoria cooling a bit, Andrew looked for his family. He quickly found them: in the same seats as always, faithful every week.
His parents were standing and applauding. Jay clapped hard, with that half-proud smile that hid more emotion than he showed. Claire held Lily in her arms, applauding as best she could while smiling. Phil, unable to contain himself, jumped like a teenager.
Gloria shouted with her usual force, while Manny, solemn, removed his hat in a theatrical gesture. Alex gave a thumbs up as if to say good job. Leonard, on the other hand, gave him an exaggerated but sincere bow.
Andrew smiled. He couldn’t spot Luke, Haley, or Howard, surely they were in the student section, that frenzied sea of drums and nonstop chants. But he did see Willa, this time in a calmer area.
Her cheeks were painted with a bright red “19,” and she wore his jersey. She raised her hand to wave at him with a wide, genuine smile, so different from the mocking or sarcastic smirk she wore 99% of the time.
He raised his hand, and gave a general wave to everyone with a smile.
The toughest league in the country was over.
Andrew: 5 touchdowns (4 passing, 1 rushing), 0 interceptions, 345 passing yards, 60 rushing yards, and the undisputed MVP of the game.
Comments
Josh Muggs
And I think him being really a good person also helps with him being a leader people can follow it’s awesome but I hope you let him be a little bit loose when it comes to girls after all he’s still a hormonal teenage boy a good human being but still a teenager surrounded by girls that want him lol 😂😂😂
Josh Muggs
I really like how Andrew is genuinely also just a really good human being like he’s genuinely a nice guy
Josh Muggs
Thanks for the chapter
