Requiem for a Broken Dream.

[Caesar]

This man ran for almost 400 yards and didn’t get into the end zone once

I’m starting to believe Yassy was pregnant for someone else because clearly this nigga can’t finish.

[Captain Canada]

This boy a hop and a skip away from Aaron Hernandez. Now he fuckin' up Jamal' locker room presence

[Soapy]

This man ran for almost 400 yards and didn’t get into the end zone once

I’m starting to believe Yassy was pregnant for someone else because clearly this nigga can’t finish.

they keep subbing my dawg out after a big run and he's out for the entire drive

This boy a hop and a skip away from Aaron Hernandez. Now he fuckin' up Jamal' locker room presence

don't put that on kam's jacket lmao Aaron was a nasty nigga

[Soapy]

oops nvm

[Soapy]

Season 8, Episode 12
Snow raised his hand, signaling for another drink. Ravie glided over, her face a mask of professional indifference. "What can I get you?" she asked, her tone clipped.

"Bitch, you know what I drink," Snow replied, flashing what he hoped was a charming smile. "Why you acting brand new like you didn’t see me looking at you?”

Ravie's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. She turned away without a word, returning moments later with his drink. As she set it down, Snow noticed the stiffness in her shoulders, the way her lips pressed into a thin line. She had thawed out over the months that he had known her, even going as far as to share a conversation or two but it seemed like they were back to square one.

Frustration bubbled up inside him, unfamiliar with not getting his way. Snow's gaze drifted to the end of the bar, where Felix, the manager, was tallying receipts.

“Yo Felix!” Snow shouted towards him, getting the attention of the few patrons that were inside the establishment in the middle of the afternoon just as they opened.

Felix hurried to his beckon call, putting away the receipts as he shared a passing glance to Ravie on his way to his table.

“What you pay her?” he asked with deliberate casualness, tilting his head towards Ravie.

Felix stumbled over his words as he tried to find an out, “I mean, I don’t know, I’ll need to look.”

“Nigga,” Snow was unmoved.

“Probably a couple hundred a shift, plus tips,” he answered honestly.

Snow nodded, a slow smile spreading across his face. He waved Felix off dismissively, watching as the manager scurried back to his ledgers, casting a worried glance at Ravie. The bartender's face remained impassive, but her knuckles whitened as she gripped the edge of the bar.

"Bartender!" Snow called out, his voice low and smooth like honey-coated gravel. "Come here a second, baby girl."

She approached cautiously, her steps measured and deliberate. The dim bar lights caught the glint in her eyes, a mixture of wariness and curiosity.

Snow leaned forward, his elbows on the polished wood. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick wad of bills, peeling off five crisp hundred-dollar notes. The money made a soft whisper as he laid it on the table, his fingers splayed across the green paper.

"Five hundred," he said, his gaze never leaving her face. "Come serve me some drinks tonight when we head back to the private room. Ain’t no funny shit, just what you usually do anyway.”

The air between them seemed to crackle with tension. Ravie's eyes flicked from the money to Snow's face and back again. The rest of the bar faded into the background, the muffled sounds of conversation and clinking glasses barely registering.

He had made an offer that she couldn’t refuse. Finances aside, turning it down would be a death wish and she might as well have turned in her resignation in that same moment. He practically ran the place and while her icy demeanor towards him had gone unpunished, she also recognized that her declining such a generous offer would be deemed disrespect to the highest order that wouldn’t be tolerated.

"Just drinks?" Ravie asked, stalling for time to find a way out.

…

The library buzzed with quiet energy as the afternoon rush consisted of students filling in for an all-nighter or printing our their schoolwork for the following day.

Suddenly, a collective ping echoed through the library as phones lit up with notifications. Cynthia's heart raced as she fumbled for her device, her hands shaking slightly. Yassy, on the other hand, took a deep breath before reaching for her own phone with measured calm.

"They're posted," Cynthia whispered, her voice quavering. She looked at Yassy, fear evident in her eyes. "I can't look. You go first."

Yassy shook her head, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "No way, girl. You check yours, and then I'll check mine. If you ain’t pass, I don’t stand a chance."

Cynthia nodded, taking a deep breath as she unlocked her phone. Her finger hovered over the notification for a moment before she tapped it, her eyes squeezing shut as the page loaded. When she finally looked, a mix of relief and disappointment washed over her face.

"I passed," she said, her voice a mixture of emotions. "By a fucking thread, seventy-six percent."

Yassy reached out, squeezing Cynthia's hand. "It don’t matter, you passed.”

Cynthia nodded as she forced a weak smile. "Your turn.”

Yassy hesitated, her usual confidence faltering for a moment. She stared at her phone, her finger hovering over the screen. Taking a deep breath, she finally tapped the notification.

As the page loaded, Yassy's eyes widened, a smile spreading across her face. It was quickly replaced by guilt as she looked up towards Cynthia, who was still processing her grades, “I passed too.”

“What’d you get?” Cynthia asked.

“Eighty nine,” she muttered, trying to hide her excitement.

Cynthia's jaw dropped. "Holy shit, Yassy! That's amazing!" She leaned in for a quick hug, pride for her friend momentarily overshadowing her own mixed feelings. ”You know what? We should celebrate. Let's hit the town tonight."

Yassy raised an eyebrow. "On a Wednesday? You sure? We still got some work to do there and by the time we’re down…"

"Come on," Cynthia urged, her excitement building. "The only time you’re not studying is when you’re flying out to a game and even then, that’s probably stressful as fuck.”

“I don’t know, I already told my homegirl Tess I was studying tonight.”

“Shit, invite her too,” Cynthia began packing up her stuff, “Steven got a homeboy that don’t mind spending money on girls that look as good as y’all, taken or not.”

…

Kyrie settled into his usual spot in the meeting room, surrounded by his fellow running backs. He had had a pretty decent game the week before and for once was looking forward to the film review.

Suddenly, a commotion erupted in the hallway outside. Muffled voices grew louder, footsteps thundering towards the meeting room. The running back coach, Coach Evans, paused mid-sentence, his marker hovering in the air as all heads turned towards the door.

It opened with no knock, revealing two uniformed police officers flanked by campus security. Their eyes scanned the room before locking onto Kyrie.

"Kyrie Patterson?" one officer called out, his voice echoing in the stunned silence.

Kyrie's heart plummeted. He stood slowly, his legs trembling beneath him. "Yeah?" he managed to croak out.

The officer strode forward, pulling out a pair of handcuffs. "You're under arrest for assault, battery, and kidnapping. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."

The words washed over Kyrie in a dizzying wave as the cold metal clasped around his wrists. His teammates whispered and stared, their faces a mixture of shock and confusion. Coach Evans stepped forward, demanding answers, but his voice seemed distant and muffled to Kyrie's ears.

The last ambers of the afternoon sun hit Kyrie's face as they exited the building, momentarily blinding him. He blinked rapidly, taking in the scene before him. A small crowd had gathered, phones out to capture his walk of shame. In the distance, he saw a police cruiser that had his roommate, Derrick, already occupying the backseat.

…



The night had stretched on endlessly, a blur of drinks, laughter, and an appreciation of the female body. Now, as the first hints of dawn crept through the curtains, the private room lay in disarray. Empty bottles littered the tables, and the air hung heavy with the scent of stale smoke and spilled liquor.

Ravie moved silently through the chaos, her movements mechanical as she collected glasses and wiped down surfaces. The weight of exhaustion pressed down on her shoulders, but she pushed through, eager to finish and escape.

Snow lounged on the plush leather couch, his eyes half-lidded as he watched her work. The others had long since departed, leaving just the two of them in the oppressive quiet of the dying night.

"Yo, Ravie," Snow's voice cut through the silence, slightly slurred but still commanding. "Why you been so cold to a nigga?”

Ravie paused, her hand hovering over a half-empty bottle. She didn't turn to face him, instead focusing on the way the amber liquid caught the dim light. "I don't know what you mean," she replied, her voice carefully neutral.

Snow chuckled, the sound low and without humor. "I get it, I ain’t your favorite motherfucker in the world but lately, it’s like a nigga killed your dog or something. By now you should know a nigga ain’t trying to fuck you or nothing.”

Ravie resumed cleaning, her movements more deliberate now. "I didn’t mean to make you feel some type of way," she said. "I'm just doing my job."

"Fuck out of here," Snow spat, sitting up straighter. "I ain’t me because I’m just tougher than everybody else, I can read a motherfucker too. Something wrong with you and it’s making me feel real uneasy and I don’t like feeling that way.”

Ravie finally turned to face him, her eyes meeting his. Whether exhaustion from the night, or her life, she just had had enough.

“Do you actually want to know why?”

“Yeah,” he nodded.

“Your boy Malik be beating the dog shit out of Sandra!”

Snow's expression hardened, but he remained silent as Ravie continued, her voice rising with each word.

"She beat on him if she looks at a nigga, dances on a nigga, even fucking thinks about showing up to work these days. Why you think she ain’t fucking here? Why she ain’t been fucking here?!”

Snow leaned forward, his jaw clenched. "Man, what that got to do with us? That’s their-”

"Are you serious?" Ravie cut him off, her voice sharp as a knife. "I know that you and your niggas think you can do whatever the fuck you want in this city, hurt whoever the fuck y’all want but that don’t mean a motherfucker got to take it and like it.”

The tension in the room was palpable, thick enough to choke on. Ravie's chest heaved as she fought to control her breathing, years of pent-up frustration and fear pouring out of her from things that stretched far beyond Sandra’s situation with Mali.

Snow's eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint in them. "You better watch your mouth, girl. You don't know what you're talking about."

But Ravie was beyond caring about consequences now. She stepped closer to Snow, her voice low and intense. "I know exactly what I'm talking about. If y’all want to piss on us, go ahead, but don’t fucking tell us its rain.”

[Soapy]

Season 8, Episode 13
Kam sat nervously in front of the camera, his palms sweating as he tried to remember Mark’s advice. The bright lights felt hot on his face, making him squint slightly as the reporter adjusted her microphone.

"Confident but not abrasive," Mark had said, his weathered face creased with concern. "Matured but not apologetic.”

Kam took a deep breath, trying to still the tremor in his hands. The reporter, a petite woman with a sharp gaze, leaned forward with a practiced smile.

"So, Kam, let's start with last week - breaking the school rushing record. How does it feel to etch your name in the history books?"

Kam's tension eased slightly as he fell into the familiar rhythm of post-game interviews. "It's an honor, really. I couldn't have done it without my offensive line and coaches believing in me."

The reporter nodded, jotting notes. "You’ve certainly thrown your hat into the Heisman contenders list. Did you ever imagine you'd be in this position when you first started playing?"

A wistful smile tugged at Kam's lips as he thought back to his first football practice. "Honestly? I just wanted to be a really good high school player, that’s what I always dreamed about so to get here, for this to be my reality, it just shows that hard work goes a long way.”

The conversation flowed easily as they discussed his relationship with his teammates, overcoming adversity with the loss of his parents and the upcoming game against Oregon that was to be the showcase game of the week. Kam began to relax, his shoulders loosening as he settled into the interview.

Then, the reporter's expression shifted subtly, her eyes sharpening. Kam's stomach clenched, recognizing the telltale signs of a tougher question coming.

"Now, Kam, there's been a lot of speculation about your sudden transfer from Kentucky last year after leading the country in rushing. Can you shed some light on what prompted that decision?"

The room seemed to grow quieter, the lights feeling even hotter on Kam's skin. He swallowed hard, Mark's words echoing in his mind. Confident but not abrasive. Matured but not apologetic. The weight of unspoken truths pressed against his chest as he formulated his response, knowing that whatever he said next could shape the narrative of his entire career.

Kam opened his mouth to respond, but before he could utter a word, a sharp voice cut through the tension.

"That question is out of scope for this interview."

Mrs. Ellington, dressed sharply as always, stepped into view, her face a mask of professional calm. The reporter's eyebrows shot up, her practiced smile faltering for a moment.

"I didn’t ask him about the incident," she countered, "We can’t just avoid it, altogether, Elie, it’s going to come across as disingenuous.”

"We already agreed on what we were doing," Mrs. Ellington interrupted, her tone brooking no argument. "And that topic was not part of our agreement."

The room erupted into a flurry of whispered conversations and hurried movements. The camera operator lowered his equipment, looking uncertainly between Mrs. Ellington and the reporter. A producer, a tall man with a clipboard and a harried expression, rushed onto the set.

"We can't just ignore the elephant in the room," the producer insisted, gesturing emphatically. "If anything, we’re giving you a chance to shape it however you want. We still need to ask, it’s up to you guys to provide the story.”

She stood her ground, positioning herself slightly in front of Kam like a shield. "And it's a story that won't be told today. We were clear about the parameters of this interview."

The debate intensified, voices rising and falling like waves crashing against a shore. Kam sat frozen in his chair, feeling like a spectator in his own life. He watched as the producer's face grew redder, as the reporter's smile became more strained, as Mrs. Ellington’s posture became increasingly rigid.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity but was likely only a few minutes, she turned to Kam. "We're done here," she said quietly, her eyes conveying a mix of apology and determination.

Kam nodded mutely, rising from his chair on legs that felt like jelly. As she guided him off the set, Kam could hear the producer's frustrated voice behind them.

“We’re going to run a piece on this with or without you guys!”

…

Kam refreshed his ‘For You’ tab, scrolling through it as his eyes searched for his name. As promised, or threatened, ESPN’s College GameDay had made his transfer to Michigan one of their feature stories for the week as they descended on Ann Arbor. They briefly mentioned his arrest, calling it an ‘off campus incident’, but mostly left it alone, focusing on his record setting start to the year instead. That didn’t stop a few protestors from getting their posters on camera, "Safety Over Sports” being one of the more popular ones.

As Kam read through the reactions on social media, it was mostly mixed with some viewing Kam as another Black athlete that was almost railroaded by the justice system while others saw him as another shining example of college sports being placed over academia and the safety of others.

“I need about one-sixty today,” Desmond’s voice caught Kam by surprise as he put his phone away, “And get in that motherfucking endzone, nigga.”

“He don’t need to do that,” Nate chimed in, “What you think I’m here for?”

“Fucking ugly bitches while we’re with their roommates,” Desmond shook his head, “For real though, none of this extra shit matter if you’re going out and doing what you’re supposed to do.”

“Shit, this is a showcase game for y’all,” Kam tried to get the attention of him, “They have a pretty good front, bro, I’m not even going to lie to you.”

“Forty-two is a white boy,” Desmond started counting with his finger, “Forty-seven is a black man from Arizona, be fucking for real bro.”

“Ninety-nine a motherfucker,” Nate added, realizing that Kam was purposefully and playfully antagonizing Desmond.

“Big for nothing ass nigga,” Desmond sucked his teeth, “I ought to let that motherfucker swallow y’all up since y’all wanna glaze him so bad.”

“I don’t know what type of time you’re on,” Kam shook his head with a smile, welcoming the distraction from his phone, “Ain’t no nigga swallowing me up, pause.”

“He’s on demon time,” Nate pointed to Desmond as he placed his helmet on.

“I wake up on demon time,” Desmond nodded his head, “Ask your momma, little nigga.”

---

ORE (4-3, 2-2) | 7 | 3 | 0 | 7 | 17
MICH (4-1, 2-0) | 10 | 14 | 7 | 14 | 45

ORE QB Austin Novosad: 19-30, 260 yds, TD, INT, sacked 5 times
ORE LB Jessie Pinter: 12 tkl, 2 TFL
ORE LB Kamar Mothudi: 11 tkl, 2 TFL
MICH QB CJ Carr: 13-19, 197 yds, 2 TD, sacked twice
MICH HB Kamaldeen Seidu-Harris: 29 att, 247 yds, 3 TD, fumble (recovered)
MICH WR Martin Feliciano: 4 rec, 87 yds, TD

Season Stats 140 att, 1114 yds, 7 TD, 5 rec, 39 yds
Remaining Schedule at Indiana, at Iowa, at UCLA, at #4 Penn State, at Michigan State, vs. Illinois, vs. #20 Ohio State

[Caesar]

I was about to give him props for showing up in a big game until I saw Oregon’s record.

[Captain Canada]

GYAAAATDAMN Them blockers hooked you up

[djp73]

What a game!

[Soapy]

I was about to give him props for showing up in a big game until I saw Oregon’s record.

foh that roster is loaded

GYAAAATDAMN Them blockers hooked you up

why you think I'm featuring the OL so much in the storyline? them boys goated! i finally got a speed upgrade too, we finna go off!

What a game!

that first play TD had me hype