Requiem for a Broken Dream.

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Soapy
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Requiem for a Broken Dream.

Post by Soapy » 11 Sep 2024, 17:22

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Season 6, Episode 11
Kam drove his palm into the defender's chest, pushing him to the ground as he drove his feet out of the hole. He had plenty of experience with Jamal's dad often taking them to those sandy volleyball courts, getting in the habit of driving his feet even in the worst of circumstances.

Another defended latched onto his back as Kam carried him for a few yards before tumbling to the ground. He rolled to his feet, tossing the ball to the nearby official. In a game of tough runs and even tougher hits, even a modest ten yard run felt like a touchdown as Kam jogged off the field.

...

"Kentucky, hanging on to that one point lead in the third quarter and they're going to hand it off to Seidu-Harris again on third and one, who else, and he's got a wide open lane as he rumbles down to the South Carolina twenty-four yard line!"

...

Kam quickly hopped to his feet, turning around to find Koby who had sealed off the block. He drove his helmet into his, clashing heads like a couple of rams as they celebrated.

"Keep blocking that bitch and I'm going to keep running that motherfucker!" he yelled to the rest of his offensive line as he jogged off the field, ignoring Kyrie as he came on.

...

"The punt is fielded at the 21-yard line and here comes Kentucky offense, up 13-9 with a little over nine minutes remaining. The way they've played today, I have a feeling they're going to break out the four minute offense already."

...

"Seidu-Harris gets his third straight carry and picks up the first down on third-and-one with the seven-yard pick up off that right side, sprung free by that block by Marlon Turner, the second-year guard."

...

"Seidu-Harris rips off a ten-yard gain, to get the ball into South Carolina territory."

...

Kam tried his best to keep his leg churning as he could see the endzone, he could taste the elusive touchdown but South Carolina's defense hunkered down, dragging him down near the one-yard line. The carried had began to weigh on him but one more wouldn't hurt, not when the game was within striking distance of closing. He looked to the sideline, Kyrie eagerly standing by coach Boulware and the offensive staff as the play call got signaled in.

At the last moment, Kam tapped on his helmet and began jogging to the sideline, using his other hand to point towards Kyrie. Kam stopped as they crossed paths, putting both hands on Kyrie's helmet to bring him closer.

"Finish that bitch," he told his former mentee who simply nodded.

Kam reached the sideline to a bevy of congratulations, almost single handedly carrying the offense to the one-yard line. He got on a knee, using his helmet for balance as he watched Kyrie reached the endzone. The sophomore celebrated with his teammates on the field before coming to find Kam on the sidelines and sharing a dap.

"Get that money, young bull," Kam smiled.

...

"South Carolina is going to go for it and they hand it off to Lee Abdesmad and he's going to be stopped short! They turn it over on downs with 2:57 remaining and this might be it folks!"

...

Kam began his feet as he watched Cole follow through with the misdirection before turning around and sticking the ball into his belly for the umpteenth time of the night. Kam followed his pulling guard into the gap vacated by Marlon's down block which parted like the sea. The backside linebacker had down a good job of tracking down the play and was unaccounted for as he was in the blindside of the pulling guard. Kam braced for contact, absorbing the hit before pushing his hand against his helmet and driving it to the ground.

He picked his feet up as he sprung into the open space, sticking his hand in another defender's chest as he picked up a few more yards.

"I put my fucking heart in this shit!" Kam screamed to the crowd, the thousands of fans matching his energy, "I don't give a fuck man!"





Image Image
SCAR (2-3, 0-2) | 0 | 6 | 3 | 0 | 9
UK (2-2, 2-0) | 0 | 7 | 3 | 13 | 23

SCAR QB Stephen Otis: 4-5, 82 yds, INT, sacked 4 times, 8 att, 36 yds
SCAR HB Doug Forney: 19 att, 110 yds
UK QB Cole Pennington: 14-16, 128 yds
UK HB Kamaldeen Seidu-Harris: 34 att, 143 yds, TD, 3 rec, 15 yds
UK HB Kyrie Patterson: 2 att, 3 yds, TD, 2 rec, 15 yds

Season Stats 95 att, 438 yds, 2 TD, 19 rec, 153 yds, TD
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The JZA
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Requiem for a Broken Dream.

Post by The JZA » 11 Sep 2024, 18:15

Soapy wrote:
11 Sep 2024, 14:36
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My mans got hit so hard, time stopped on his ass

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Gave Carolina the business though. Running that hard, definitely need more rushing TDs
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Captain Canada
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Requiem for a Broken Dream.

Post by Captain Canada » 11 Sep 2024, 18:26

Helluva game. Crazy to dap up your teammate after he piped your girl and socked your shit up but Kentucky different I suppose :curtain:

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Soapy
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Requiem for a Broken Dream.

Post by Soapy » 12 Sep 2024, 15:35

The JZA wrote:
11 Sep 2024, 18:15
Soapy wrote:
11 Sep 2024, 14:36
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My mans got hit so hard, time stopped on his ass

Image

Gave Carolina the business though. Running that hard, definitely need more rushing TDs
gave the young boy the TD, least Kam could do
Captain Canada wrote:
11 Sep 2024, 18:26
Helluva game. Crazy to dap up your teammate after he piped your girl and socked your shit up but Kentucky different I suppose :curtain:
you was gonna leave him hanging?

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Soapy
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Requiem for a Broken Dream.

Post by Soapy » 12 Sep 2024, 16:07

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Season 6, Episode 12
The smell of sizzling burgers and crispy fries wafted through Grady's Diner as Kam scrawled his signature on yet another football. He flexed his cramping hand, offering a tired smile to the young boy clutching the ball to his chest. The line of eager fans stretched out the door, their excited chatter mixing with the clinking of plates and the sizzle of the grill.

Kam glanced over at his teammates, sprawled across three booths in the corner.

After what felt like hours, Kam signed the last jersey and posed for a final selfie. He made his way to his waiting teammates, collapsing into the worn vinyl booth with a weary sigh.

"Man, Kam, you're the real MVP," Marlon said around a mouthful of fries. "The food don’t stop coming!”

Kam grinned, reaching for a handful of Hayes' onion rings. "Y’all keep blocking like y’all did in that second half, we’re at Ruth Chris with it next week"

“Hold on now, that’s a whole different animal this week,” Jalen acknowledged, shaking his head.

A hush fell over the table. Even in a down year, the Crimson Tide loomed large in their minds.

"I don’t care how many losses they got," Hayes said, pushing his empty plate away, "They're still Alabama. That stadium's gonna be a madhouse."

Kam nodded, feeling the familiar mix of excitement and anxiety churning in his gut. "Shit, run through a motherfucker face, see if they really like that or just wearing the uniform.”

“Here he goes with that shit,” Marlon laughed, “You ain’t never locked up with a motherfucker and realize it’s going to be a long day. It’s different out there in them trenches, you hear me?”

“Hit everything moving,” Kam told his guys, “I don’t care if the run supposed to go there or not but you hit something, open up a crease, I’m going to find it and hit that motherfucker.”



Kyrie leaned back in the worn leather chair at his uncle's barbershop, the familiar scent of aftershave and hair product filling his nostrils. The rhythmic snip of scissors and low hum of electric clippers provided a soothing backdrop to the animated conversation around him.

"Man, I still can't believe you're riding the bench," Boog said, shaking his head as he swept up hair clippings. "You should be starting, no question."

Kyrie shrugged, trying to keep his face neutral. "It is what it is. Kam's the guy right now."

"Bullshit," Darius chimed in from the next chair over, his voice muffled by the towel draped over his face. "You outplayed him all summer. Coach is trippin'."

Kyrie shifted uncomfortably, suddenly very interested in his phone. He could feel the weight of his friends' concerned gazes.

"It's politics, man," Boog said, leaning on his broom. "I ain’t saying the boy a scrub or nothing, he a good short-yardage guy, if that’s what you need. But you give nephew thirty carries, he might go for two hundred!"

Boog was Kyrie’s uncle in name only, the two being separated by only a few years. Their relationship was more like cousins, brothers even. Kyrie’s actual brother, Reggie, played basketball while Boog was a pretty good football player in his own right. Kyrie tried the basketball thing but it never stuck, eventually transitioning to the gridiron where he excelled under Boog’s tutelage and watchful eye, and loud voice.

“Y’all really scrapped in that locker room?” Darius’ curiosity got the best of him, tired of dancing around the subject that was the topic of conversation whenever Kyrie wasn’t around.

The room fell silent, the only sound the buzz of clippers as Ray shaped up a customer’s hairline.

“I mean, I don’t got nothing bad to say about the girl,” Boog began.

Kyrie's head snapped up, his jaw clenching. "It wasn't like that," he said, his voice tight. "Ashley's got nothing to do with this."

But even as the words left his mouth, Kyrie couldn't shake the memory of Ashley's tear-stained face, or the hurt in her eyes when she came clean to him about Kam. He'd promised himself he was over it, that he'd moved on, but sitting here, surrounded by the ghosts of his past, those old wounds felt fresh as ever.

“If she did that shit over there in Texas,” Boog continued, never one to bite his tongue, especially not about his nephew, “I’ll allow it, you feel me, we all make dumb mistakes as young people. But you going to fuck a nigga teammate? A nigga you know I’ve been trying to knock off the fucking pedestal they got him on?”

"Look," Kyrie said, standing up abruptly. "I appreciate y'all having my back, but the shit is what it is and who she fucked or didn’t fuck don’t got shit to do with this."

As he headed for the door, Boog called out, "Hey, nephew. Remember what I always tell you – you let a motherfucker play with you, they’re playing with my name too.”

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Soapy
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Requiem for a Broken Dream.

Post by Soapy » 12 Sep 2024, 17:12

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Season 6, Episode 13
"I need the fucking rock!" Kam screamed as he came off the field, going directly to the offensive play caller and getting in his face.

He was pulled away by Coach Boulware, reminding the star running back that he was already on thin ice.

"Just do your job," Boulware reminded him, tapping him on the chest.

They had gotten to the Alabama seven-yard line with the chance to score the first score of the game only for Cole to fumble the ball on an option play.

Kam's frustration only grew as he looked up towards the jumbotron, the replay confirming that the correct read would have been to hand the ball off with all but one defender in between him and the endzone when Cole made the decision to pull the ball.

...

"Pennington throws it deep and it's intercepted! Too much air on that throw and Jalon Kilgore is going to return it for a touchdown!"

...

"Put fucking Rasheem in," Kam threw his head back, searching the heavens for a different quarterback.

A dejected Cole walked past him, his head buried in the tablet in front of him while two different coaches were in his ear. He was unaware of his surroundings, bumping into Kam as he passed by.

"Watch where the fuck you going nigga," Kam pushed the quarterback in the back, causing him to stumble forwards until a staffer stopped his fall.

The offensive line quickly got off the bench, coming to their quarterback's aid while Marlon, as usual, served as the mediator.

"We good!" Marlon yelled, putting his hand in Julio's chest to keep the right tackle away from Kam.

"That's our fucking quarterback," Julio reminded Kam as Cole sheepishly walked over to the quarterback's area of the bench, his head still buried in his tablet, "That's your fucking quarterback, too."

"He ain't my fucking quarterback," Kam sucked his teeth, "Rasheem my motherfucking quarterback, anybody else my motherfucking quarterback."

...

"Third and two here, forty seconds remaining in the half, Kentucky looking to strike. Pennington drops back, scans the field, finds Seidu-Harris out of the ackfield for a first down!"

...

Kam navigated his way through the line of scrimmage, avoiding Marlon as he broke through, quickly realizing that the linebacker's back was turned to him as he dropped to his zone. Kam adjusted his route, veering to the left as he threw his hands up. As soon as he turned his head, the ball was en route, snagging it with both hands as he sprinted into the endzone.

"I got big dog status, nigga!" he told his teammates in celebration, "Get Kam the fucking ball and get the fuck out the way, that's the motherfucking gameplan."

...

"Kentucky trailing after that fifty-yard touchdown by Alabama, second and seven from their own forty-three. Seidu-Harris in motion, Pennington gets the snap, fires, intercepted!"

...

"Josh Fierro is going to score here to extend Alabama's lead to two touchdowns with ten minutes left in the game."

...

Kam wiped the sweat from his brow as he adjusted his helmet back on, wishing the last four minutes of the game would just evaporate. He was spent, his constant back and forth with Alabama defenders, his own teammates and the coaching staff had drained him of his energy, not to mention the game itself.

It was fourth down with four minutes left in the game, their fate sealed already in his mind. He had put together a solid performance, perhaps the best of his career against such a quality opponent. If he was going to attach his fulfilment on winning these type of games, it'd never come. He had resigned himself to focusing on his individual performances, that's the only thing he could rely on at this point.

He went out for his route, running past a linebacker that now had a free shot at the quarterback. He turned to face Cole, fully expecting him to be in the process of getting drilled into the turf. He was but the ball had already left his hands, Kam's eyes scanning the Tuscaloosa skies to spot it. He found it just as it reached Stanley's hands who somehow ran away from the rest of the defense.

...

"Ty Simpson is going to throw this ball away and all of a sudden, Kentucky has life, down five points and are getting the ball back with two minutes to go."

...

All Kam was the roar of the crowd as he began his route to the flats. He turned around to see Alabama's defender heading towards their endzone while Cole and Kentucky's offense took chase. The senior quarterback got swallowed up by the Tide's stampede to the endzone, falling to the ground. While their teammates continued their hopeless chase, Kam hurried over to Cole, helping him off the ground.

The two only exchanged a nod as they walked to the sideline.





Image Image
UK (2-3, 1-1) | 0 | 7 | 3 | 13 | 23
ALA (3-2, 1-0) | 0 | 7 | 7 | 14 | 28

UK QB Cole Pennington: 29-46, 391 yds, 3 TD, 4 INT
UK HB Kamaldeen Seidu-Harris: 18 att, 103 yds
UK HB Kyrie Patterson: 1 att, 1 yds
ALA QB Ty Simpson: 12-18, 120 yds, TD
ALA HB Alton McCaskill: 17 att, 63 yds

Season Stats 113 att, 541 yds, 2 TD, 28 rec, 245 yds, 2 TD
Next Schedule vs. #10 Texas A&M (3-1, 0-1 SEC)
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Caesar
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Requiem for a Broken Dream.

Post by Caesar » 12 Sep 2024, 17:40

Big game, no touchdowns. Typical Kam shit.
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djp73
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Requiem for a Broken Dream.

Post by djp73 » 12 Sep 2024, 18:58

Close but the qb gotta stop killing y'all

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Soapy
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Requiem for a Broken Dream.

Post by Soapy » 12 Sep 2024, 20:20

Caesar wrote:
12 Sep 2024, 17:40
Big game, no touchdowns. Typical Kam shit.
ya deadass?
djp73 wrote:
12 Sep 2024, 18:58
Close but the qb gotta stop killing y'all
but if kam were to snuff that nigga in his shit, he'd be the bad guy smh

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Soapy
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Requiem for a Broken Dream.

Post by Soapy » 12 Sep 2024, 21:00

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Season 6, Episode 14
"Yo, chill out back there," Andre called over his shoulder. "You're making a nigga nervous just looking at you."

Ravie tried to steady her breathing, but her hands wouldn't stop shaking. This was crazy. What was she doing here? She should be at home, curled up on the couch watching Netflix, not an accomplice to some half-baked scheme to rob a rapper.

"It's gonna be fine," Aaron said, turning to face her, calmness in his voice, “That boy could barely walk out the club, he probably doesn’t even know where he’s at.”

But Ravie couldn't shake the dread settling in her stomach. Marcus was far from an angel but he never would have allowed this, not with his Sandra as the bait.



Lana stumbled out of the crowded bar, the bass from inside still pulsing through her body. The cool night air hit her flushed cheeks as she laughed, linking arms with her roommate.

"Where to next?" Sharon shouted over the noise of the city.

"I heard about this spot in Brooklyn," Sharon’s boyfriend Matthew chimed in. "Supposed to be insane."

The group piled into an Uber, the excitement of the night ahead drowning out any worries about tomorrow's assignments. As they crossed the bridge, the Manhattan skyline glittered behind them like a jeweled backdrop.

The club was everything Matthew had promised - dark, pulsing with energy, bodies moving as one to the thundering beat. Lana lost herself in the music, the drinks from the pre-game at their apartment fueling her night.

She was at the bar, waiting for another overpriced cocktail, when she felt a presence beside her. Turning, she locked eyes with a gentleman whose patience was also being tested.

"Can I buy you a drink?" he asked, flashing a smile.

"I'm Richie," he said, leaning in close so she could hear him over the music.

"Lana," she replied, suddenly very aware of how close he was.

They talked and danced for what felt like hours, Richie's hand on the small of her back sending shivers up her spine. When he suggested they get some air, Lana didn't even think to look for her friends.

The night air was crisp now, and Lana shivered in her thin dress. Richie draped his jacket over her shoulders, the scent of his cologne enveloping her.

"My place isn't far," he said, gesturing to a sleek high-rise looming above them. "Want to grab a nightcap?"

Lana hesitated for a moment, her common sense battling with the alcohol-fueled desire coursing through her veins. But Richie's smile was intoxicating, and before she knew it, they were in the elevator, ascending to his penthouse apartment.

The doors opened directly into his living room, floor-to-ceiling windows offering a breathtaking view of the city below. Lana's breath caught in her throat as she took it all in - the modern furniture, the original artwork on the walls, the glittering lights of Manhattan spread out before her like a carpet of stars.





Ravie shifted uncomfortably in the passenger seat, her eyes fixed on the dingy pawn shop across the street. The silence in the car was suffocating, broken only by the occasional hum of passing traffic.

The events of the night replayed in Sandra’s mind like a bad movie. The flashing lights of the club, the pounding music, the way his eyes lit up when she guided his hand into her dressed. It had all seemed so easy then, just another night out. But now, sitting in this beat-up Camry with the smell of stale cigarettes clinging to the upholstery, the weight of what they'd done settled heavily on her shoulders.

Ravie cleared her throat, breaking the silence. "You okay?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Sandra nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She could feel the shame burning in her cheeks, could practically taste the bitter regret on her tongue. This wasn't her. She wasn't the type of girl who lured men into their hotel room, drugging them before robbing them blind.

What if he went to the cops? What if he found out who she was and came to get it back in blood?

The pawn shop's neon sign flickered, casting an eerie green glow across the dashboard. Ravie found herself counting the seconds, willing Andre and Aaron to hurry up and return so they could put this whole sordid affair behind them.

After what felt like an eternity, the shop's door swung open with a tinny jingle. Andre emerged first, his face set in a hard line as he scanned the street. Aaron followed close behind, a bulging envelope clutched tightly in his fist.

They slid into the front seats, the car dipping under their weight. The smell of cheap cologne and nervous sweat filled the small space, making Ravie's stomach churn.

"Well?" Sandra asked, her voice tight with anticipation.

Andre turned around, passing the envelope to Sandra. "It's all there," he said gruffly. "Your cut's inside."

Sandra thumbed through the bills, her eyes widening slightly. She hesitated for a moment before turning to Ravie. "What about her?" she asked, nodding towards her friend. "She should get something too."

A bark of laughter erupted from Andre, harsh and mocking. "For what? Standing there looking pretty?" He shook his head, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. "Nah, if you want your little friend here to get paid, it's coming out of your share."

Ravie felt her face flush with humiliation. She wanted to protest, to demand her fair share, but he ultimately was right.

As Sandra reluctantly peeled off a few bills and pressed them into her hand, Ravie couldn't help but turn the bills back to her.

“It’s okay,” she insisted.

“If you want to make some money,” Andre looked into her eyes, “Just tap in with a real nigga.”
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