Requiem for a Broken Dream.
Requiem for a Broken Dream.
Season 6, Episode 9
Kam slammed his helmet to the ground, not waiting until he reached the locker room to rip off his shoulder pads and throw them as well. A nearby staffer almost comically followed Kam around, picking up the scattered pieces of equipment he was leaving as a trail to the locker room.
One of the team’s freelance photographers was frozen, not sure if he should capture the moment as Kam walked past him, the first one to reach the tunnel.
“We worried about fucking bullshit!” Kam could be heard yelling as the players began shuffling into the locker room, shellshock written all over their faces.
The unthinkable had happened, the season already set ablaze. The coaches huddled near the door, gathering themselves as well. Any sort of cohesive plan on how to approach such a devastating loss would have to wait until they could rein in their star player.
Coach Stoops kept a watchful eye on Kam as he continued his conversation with his staff. He had been around the game long enough to recognize losses that could tear away at the fabric of a team, and this was one of them.
“Calm him down, please,” Coach Stoops directed Coach Boulware, who had the best relationship with him as his position coach.
Coach Boulware walked over, only to meet this wrath as well.
“Ain’t no fucking chill,” Kam pushed him away, “Y’all motherfuckers worried about what the fuck I’m doing, who the fuck I’m with, what the fuck I’m drinking when we can’t even do fucking shit on offense!”
Kam putting his hands on Coach Boulware elicited a visceral reaction from the teammates near him, including Kyrie who pushed Kam back.
“Calm the fuck down, bro!” Kyrie yelled at him, “You were fucking up out there, too!”
“Shut your bitch ass up!” Kam fired back at him, “You ain’t the one getting fucking killed out there behind that sorry-ass line, can’t fucking block South Alabama! Are you fucking kidding me?!”
“This ain’t it right now,” Marlon stepped in, the giant of a man getting in between Kam and the others who now began to form around him.
“Y’all doing the same shit when everybody fucking looks at Kam like he’s the fucking problem on this team like we don’t have a sorry-ass quarterback that we got from a sorry-ass school, and I’m supposed to be surprised when he plays sorry as fuck? I’m just supposed to be quiet and not say shit? Y’all some hoes!”
“You’re sorry as fuck,” Kyrie scoffed, “You ain’t do shit with none of your carries, bro!”
“I know a nigga whose bitch be getting fucked left and right ain’t talking,” Kam fired back, pushing Marlon’s hand down to get into Kyrie’s face, “Yeah, nigga, you thought niggas ain’t know? Been there, done that, fuck nigga!”
Kyrie swung at Kam, grazing him on the chin. Kam instantly went for Kyrie’s neck, grabbing him and throwing him into the locker. The bigger Kam got on top of him and started pummeling him with punches until he was pulled away by Marlon and others. He kept throwing kicks, trying to reach Kyrie and once he realized they were futile attempts, he grabbed any nearby object he could find – cleats, Gatorade bottles, towels; you name it – and began hurling them towards his general direction, striking others in the process as well.
A contingent began to form; all now equally pissed off at Kam as they walked towards him. The only thing that stood between them and a winded Kam was Marlon and members of the coaching and support staff all escorting him out of the locker room.
Requiem for a Broken Dream.
Time to learn German, fuck booooooooooy!
Requiem for a Broken Dream.
Season 6, Episode 10
Kam hunched over at the waist, the prospect of another sprint weighed heavily on his mind and legs. At this rate, he’d prefer a suspension over this.
He was no longer a virgin to the business of college football, recognizing that a suspension would cause more damage to the coaching staff than to himself. He had considered walking out and forcing their hand during the previous sixteen sprints, but the athlete buried within him wouldn’t let him do it.
There was an order to things, a structure to it. Players played, coaches coached and when a player stepped out of line, this is what coaches did. Who was he to break that mold?
“This could be the last four or the first four,” Coach Hill, the team’s strength and conditioning coach was overseeing the affair.
Kam raised himself, walked to the white line and waited for the sound of the whistle.
…
“See you in a few weeks.”
Yassy forced a smile as she walked away from the counter, passing the growing number of people in the lobby who were now waiting their turn.
Tess waited for her in the car at the insistence of Yassy, who wanted to do this on her own. They sat there in silence for a moment before Tess began driving, Yassy’s off campus apartment no more than a stone’s throw.
“We could go to my dorm,” Tess suggested, “James has study hall tonight and my roommate barely leaves her room, so it’ll really just be us.”
“It’s fine,” she replied, looking out of the window.
“What did they say?” Tess carefully prodded.
There’s a heartbeat now," she managed, overcoming the lump in her throat.
They pulled up to a red light, Tess turning to face her friend fully.
“You know you have to tell him at some point, right?”
…
Kam took off his shirt, tossing the drenched piece of fabric toward the foot of his locker as he plopped down on the chair in front of it.
The locker room had mostly cleared out, but a few teammates still lingered around, including Marlon, Rasheem and Kyrie who were posted up on the other side of the room.
Kam began undressing, opting to shower at home. His body ached with each item of clothing he took off, deliberate with every motion to not tweak anything further. He got into some sweatpants and threw on a hoodie, the fall season now in full effect.
He grabbed the rest of his stuff, throwing his bag over his shoulder and tucking his car keys into his pocket when Marlon walked over as if he had been waiting for him this whole time.
“Y’all just not gonna talk to each other ever again?”
“I don’t got nothing to say to that nigga,” Kam looked over towards Kyrie, who was chatting with Rasheem by his locker.
“You ain’t really did that, did you?” Marlon asked, genuine innocence in his question.
“If I did, I did. If I didn’t, I didn’t,” Kam responded, “It doesn’t make any difference. If he feels some way about it, we can get down wherever, whenever. I ain’t above whooping a nigga ass twice.”
“I’m not even coming at it like that,” Marlon sucked his teeth, “You’re really like the big brother to that nigga. Shit, you’re like an OG to almost all the young niggas around here, me included.”
“Can y’all decide if I’m the leader of this team or the fucking problem,” Kam laughed, “One minute, it’s fuck Kam, the other minute, it’s we need Kam. Which one is it?”
“That’s the problem right there,” Marlon explained, “We need you to be better, big dog, that’s all. You’re the best player on the team, ain’t nobody or they momma disputing that.”
“Then fucking help me the best player then,” Kam shook his head, “Instead of bitching about who I’m fucking or what I’m doing. If y’all wanna rally behind that nigga and feel sorry for him because his bitch got fucked then give him the ball thirty fucking times against them boys in the SEC, see how he holds up.”
“You’re not hearing me, bro.”
“I’m not because I don’t give a fuck,” Kam scoffed, “He ain’t the only nigga that done got his bitch popped before, so what?”
Requiem for a Broken Dream.
Aint Kams
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Captain Canada
- Posts: 5041
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
Requiem for a Broken Dream.
That SEC gave this nigga CTE already, goddamn 
Requiem for a Broken Dream.
Sir?
keep it respectful, OG
blame texas
