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MD - Chapter 184: Mater Dei vs Bosco III
🕑 Added 2025-09-03 16:14:33 +0000 UTCLos Angeles, California — The Miller House
The living room was lit only by the flat screen showing the halftime show. The ESPNU logo glowed over the Californian stands in Long Beach, while the commentators reviewed Andrew’s four touchdowns from the first half.
John sat on the carpet, back straight, eyes fixed on the television. His hands moved quickly, nervously, signing what his voice could not: “When will he make the sign? When?”
He was the boy Andrew had met in the cafeteria on the day of the breakup with Pippa.
His mother, sitting on the sofa behind him, understood right away and answered calmly, also using signs to reinforce her words:
“Relax, sweetheart. There are still two quarters left. He already scored four… surely he’ll do more. Give it time.”
The older brother, a fourteen-year-old, scoffed from the other end of the couch, “Please… he’s not even going to remember that. He’s on national television, you think he’ll be thinking about some kid he met in a cafeteria?”
“Hey!” the father cut in, frowning as he turned toward him. “Don’t crush your brother’s hopes.”
The boy raised his hands in surrender, shrugging, though not hiding a mocking smirk.
John, however, lowered his gaze only slightly. He moved his hands again, signing insistently, quickly:
“He promised me. He said he’d do it if he scored a rushing touchdown.”
The mother forced a smile and stroked his hair, though inside she wasn’t so sure.
She didn’t want to admit it, but she doubted. Could a sixteen-year-old boy, surrounded by cameras, scouts, coaches, and the pressure of an entire nation, really remember a promise made to a mute kid in a cafeteria?
Besides, that day in the cafeteria she had seen Andrew from a distance, sitting across from a girl. John had pointed him out excitedly the moment he recognized him, ready to run straight to him. But she stopped him, warning him to wait.
What she saw from afar hadn’t given her a good feeling: Andrew and the girl seemed wrapped in a tense conversation, with serious gestures, nothing like what you’d expect from two teenagers in love having coffee. In fact, if it had been up to her, she never would have gone up to ask for a picture. She didn’t want to interrupt what was clearly a bad moment.
But John was far too excited. For him, seeing Andrew in person was like meeting a superhero. She couldn’t deny him that wish. And in the end, Andrew had behaved in a way that completely surprised her: patient, attentive, even using sign language with an unexpected fluency.
So, with all the media chaos surrounding Andrew, plus what seemed like a breakup or a serious fight, would he really remember that promise?
The whistle from the television pulled her out of her thoughts. Halftime was over. The teams were back on the field. The third quarter was about to begin.
She took a deep breath, trying to convince herself as much as her son, “He’ll remember… you’ll see.”
John nodded with an anxious smile, his hands pressed against his knees.
[The second half begins here at Veterans Memorial Stadium! Third quarter underway, and Bosco opens with the ball.]
Bosco’s quarterback Chris took control. His offense moved patiently, though with some urgency given the lopsided score; he needed to speed up if he didn’t want this to turn from a beating into a historic humiliation.
Yet while Andrew made medium and long passes look easy, they weren’t for Chris. Mater Dei’s defense left only the smallest margins and opportunities.
Finally, after ten drives, they reached the red zone. A quick pass to a receiver ended up in the end zone.
[Touchdown Bosco! That narrows the gap…]
The blue-and-white stands roared as one, cheering their team despite the bleak outlook.
[The question is, is it enough? They need more than long drives… they need explosiveness. At this pace, all they’ll do is avoid a total blowout, but it’ll mean they’ve already thrown in the towel] commented Dave, the analyst. [And they’re going for the kick… I get it, it’s the safe play, but they need to take risks if they want to win.]
The kick was good. Bosco closed in a little with 21 points. Mater Dei still led with 31.
The broadcast showed Mater Dei’s kick return, fielded at their own 25-yard line, with little gain on the return.
[The Monarchs will need to march about 75 yards…] commented Will.
What followed was pure vertigo. Andrew lined up in shotgun, his arm as precise as a metronome. Three straight passes of 15 yards, then another short one for 10. Bosco’s defense could barely react. The chains moved fast.
John leaned so close to the television he nearly pressed his forehead against the screen. He clapped at every play with quick hands. His older brother grumbled from the couch, “Hey, shorty, move! I can’t see.”
His mother looked at him patiently, “Let him be. He’s excited.”
The father muttered, “Bosco’s done for.”
Finally, on the fifth play the ball reached Andrew cleanly. He looked downfield, but coverage closed off his receivers… and then he ran, the moment many had been waiting for, considering he was the number-one ranked dual-threat quarterback in his class.
Andrew split a gap between two burly defenders. He burst forward like a natural runner. Five yards… ten… fifteen… he broke right, the safety tried to cut him off, but Andrew faked and left him behind.
The crowd roared as he crossed the 20, the 15, the 10… no one could catch him.
[Andrew Pritchett on the ground! Over twenty yards into the end zone!] shouted Will, voice booming. [Touchdown Mater Dei!]
The Mater Dei stands exploded in applause and cheers. Bosco’s once-boisterous crowd of whistles and jeers fell silent.
[That’s why he’s the number-one dual-threat quarterback!] commented Dave.
John shouted in silence, slapping his palms against the carpet as if applauding, never taking his eyes off the TV. This was the moment.
On screen, Andrew was swarmed by teammates, hugs, helmets clashing, chest bumps. Mater Dei’s cheerleaders whipped their red-and-white pom-poms in a frenzy.
When the tide of congratulations eased, Andrew straightened up, sought the camera, and raised his right hand. Calmly, he traced the curve of the letter J with his pinky.
[Could this be a new Pritchett celebration?] asked Will with curiosity, not the only one to notice the gesture.
John froze for an instant, as if his brain needed time to process what he was seeing. Then his hands flew in rapid signs: “The J! It’s the J! It’s for me!”
His face glowed with pure joy.
'He did remember,' thought his mother with a smile. Her respect for Andrew grew even more.
“Well… I take it back. He did it,” his older brother admitted in surprise. “And he doesn’t even seem arrogant.”
The father raised a brow, “What do you mean?”
“I mean, after what he said in the interview, you’d think with all these touchdowns he’d be showing off, provoking, staring at the camera like ‘I’m the best and you know it.’ But no. Not once. No over-the-top dances, no taunts. Just celebrates with his teammates, that’s it.”
“Very different from Bosco’s first touchdown… that kid who did an exaggerated dab right in front of Mater Dei’s stands. That was pure provocation,” he added.
His parents nodded, understanding the point.
Andrew once again converted the two-point attempt, stretching the lead further.
39 to 21 in favor of the Monarchs.
Bosco went back on offense. They tried to speed things up, but their quarterback was still far too slow compared to Andrew. By the ninth play, they were at fourth down, fail to advance, and they’d lose possession.
In the end, they settled for a field goal. Three points that did little more than dress up the scoreboard.
39 to 24.
This time, when Andrew returned to the field, he played with more strategy, letting the clock run down since only two minutes remained. The third quarter ended with Mater Dei still in possession, needing about 55 yards for another touchdown.
...
Veterans Memorial Stadium, Long Beach
Andrew walked toward the sideline with his teammates. He breathed deeply, helmet tucked under his arm, gazing at the red-and-white sea of flags and pom-poms in the stands. The victory was already sealed.
Fifteen points ahead, possession in their hands, and only one quarter left. Bosco needed two touchdowns just to tie, if they managed two-point conversions. At best, they averaged one touchdown per quarter. Mathematically, it was checkmate.
Andrew could finally relax. He had kept his promise to John, delivering the rushing touchdown he had longed for.
For a moment, he thought he wouldn’t make it: it’s not easy for a dual-threat quarterback to run that far when the entire opposing defense is obsessed with bringing you down for what you said on national television.
Running was always a risk. The collisions were hard, and one bad fall on the shoulder could cost him the rest of the season. Yes, Andrew trusted his body, his speed, his reflexes, he knew he could take a hit. But it was better to use that as an ace up his sleeve, not as his main card or something to rely on every time.
‘Is that Dad?’ he thought, a faint smile tugging at his lips when he spotted Cam in the stands, among the sea of Mater Dei students, his face painted, waving a flag like he was the ringleader of the student section.
Higher up, he managed to catch sight of Willa, her face painted in team colors with the number 19 drawn on her cheek. He noticed that when their eyes met, she smiled at him. That gave him a strange knot in his stomach, feelings he didn’t expect to have in the middle of a game.
Near her, Haley was jumping and screaming like crazy, and down by the field, Howard was pushing his way through photographers to get footage, knowing those shots would be pure gold for the YouTube channel.
On the sideline, Mater Dei players were already gathered together, relaxed, joking with each other, celebrating the inevitable victory. The mood was full of confidence and satisfaction.
Rick watched Andrew with a mix of disbelief and admiration. He saw him for what he was: a phenomenon.
Bruce approached with firm steps, his usual stern expression softened by a restrained smile. He placed a hand on Andrew’s shoulder and said, “Good job, Andrew. You’re playing your best game.”
“Thanks, coach,” Andrew replied with a grin. “I couldn’t break my word… otherwise I wouldn’t be able to leave the house again.”
Laughter burst around them. Even Bruce, always so serious, let out a snort that sounded suspiciously like a suppressed laugh.
At that moment, Victor, sweaty and beaming, smacked him hard on the back. “Come on, brother! Number six is coming. I can feel it in the air.”
“Seriously, Victor?” Nick chuckled, raising a brow. “Six is inevitable. We’ve got a whole quarter ahead of us and only fifty yards to go.”
“Fifty-five,” Thomas corrected, his usual stoic giant look softened by the faintest smile at the corners of his lips.
“Bah, five more, five less…” Nick shrugged dismissively. “We’ll get it done in… what? Three minutes? Two?”
Everyone laughed. Confidence was at its peak. They felt invincible.
Andrew let them enjoy the moment, then spoke calmly, “Don’t get cocky. If we really want this to be a beatdown, we can’t lose focus. That’s when mistakes happen. We need to finish crushing them.”
The whole group answered in unison with a booming “Yes!” that rumbled like a roar.
Bruce and Rick exchanged glances, faint smiles tugging at their lips. They didn’t need to say anything: Andrew was already the unquestioned leader of that locker room.
The fourth quarter began.
Bosco’s defense took the field with wounded pride. They knew defeat was inevitable, but at the very least, they wanted to avoid utter humiliation. Andrew noticed it immediately: they played more aggressively, more physically, determined to slow the massacre.
He had already scored five touchdowns, a huge number without question. It was likely even Barkley hadn’t had many games with that kind of stat line in a Trinity League matchup. But for Andrew, five was average.
To make it a true rout, he had to raise that number as much as possible.
He didn’t take long. In just 2:14 minutes, Mater Dei marched down the field. The drive ended with a pass to Nick, who caught the ball, spun on his heels, and sprinted about fifteen yards straight into the end zone.
The kicker nailed the extra point.
46 – 24.
Andrew’s sixth touchdown.
Bosco’s stands, which earlier had booed him furiously, now seemed muted. The contrast with the start of the game was stark: from a constant roar to an uncomfortable silence. Andrew didn’t blame them. He had provoked it himself with his words. He understood, but still found the contrast striking.
Bosco, pride still stung, went back on offense. It took them almost five minutes to put together a respectable drive. Still dispirited, they managed to trim the score with a touchdown that barely patched up the scoreboard.
46 – 31.
The return kick left Mater Dei at their own 35-yard line.
“Sixty-five yards ahead and barely three minutes,” Andrew thought, calculating in his head as he stepped back onto the field.
He knew it was possible. He had finished drives in just over two minutes before. Even some in exactly two. But now Bosco had one clear objective: to stop him from reaching a seventh touchdown. They would do anything to prevent it.
Andrew understood immediately. If he wanted to get it, he had to change strategy. Medium passes and a steady rhythm wouldn’t be enough. He had to dismantle Bosco from the root: break out of the pocket, draw in the defense, shatter containment… and then deliver the final dagger.
The chance came on the third play.
Andrew took the snap, faked the run, burst out to his right. Three defenders chased after him, convinced he was going for another ground escape. At the last second, he lifted his eyes and unleashed a perfect cannon shot: more than forty yards spiraling through the air.
The ball landed in Victor’s hands, and he didn’t hesitate: he caught it in stride and crossed the goal line straight into the end zone.
The stadium went silent for a second… and then erupted.
Andrew’s seventh touchdown.
Drive time: 1:41 minutes. The fastest of the night.
[Incredible!] Will exclaimed, leaping from his chair. [Just incredible! Seventh touchdown of the night!]
Dave couldn’t hold back an incredulous laugh. [I can’t say with absolute certainty, but I’m 99% sure this is a record in Trinity League history for a nationally televised game. No one has ever done this before, and certainly not with such control of the match.]
In the visitor’s stands, Jay clapped his hands furiously. “That’s my grandson!”
Claire jumped and applauded like a cheerleader, her face glowing with pure pride. Mitchell was clapping too, happy and relieved, as he hugged Gloria and Phil.
Manny behaved with more composure, though he waved his red scarf with a grin from ear to ear.
Leonard and Alex both shot up from their seats at the same time, high-fiving almost without realizing it. Alex looked at him with a nervous smile, and Leonard, oblivious, exclaimed, “Number seven! The magic number!”
Alex raised an eyebrow, still smiling, “Magic because of religion? You know… seven as the perfect number: the seven days of creation, the seven colors of the rainbow, that kind of symbolism.”
Leonard shook his head instantly. “No, no… because of Harry Potter. Though, well, partly also that.”
Alex let out a quick laugh and nodded. “Voldemort had seven Horcruxes, right?”
“Exactly,” Leonard said, pointing at her as if she’d hit the nail on the head. “Do you know that because of Andrew, or do you actually like Harry Potter?”
“Both,” Alex admitted. “He made me watch all the movies, and I ended up enjoying them. Now I’m just waiting for Deathly Hallows: Part 1.”
“It comes out in November, we could go see it,” said Leonard, who had the release date circled in his calendar as a special event.
Alex looked at him for a second, then finally nodded. “Yeah, sure, why not.”
In Bosco’s stands there was an awkward silence. Faces of disbelief. Some covered their faces with their hands, others stared hopelessly at the scoreboard. The initial roar of superiority had completely died out.
On the sideline it wasn’t much different: players with heads bowed, helmets in their hands, heavy breathing. Quarterback Chris bit down on his mouthguard in contained rage, while the coach tried to keep composure by barking instructions, though everyone knew the team’s morale was shattered.
This time Andrew went for the two-point conversion and once again found his receiver.
Bosco took the field on offense, but with less than two minutes left to score, it was impossible.
The game came to an end:
Final score: St. John Bosco 31 – Mater Dei 54
Comments
Amos
Leonard and Alex? Seems good.
Josh Muggs
I really can’t wait for the reactions
