inshallahCaptain Canada wrote: ↑18 Jul 2024, 09:29I can see the motions you drawing up, this dude gonna get pinched at the worst possible time
you got kam FUCKED UP you think he ain't hit it that night
just had to play the long game is all 
Requiem for a Broken Dream.
Requiem for a Broken Dream.
just had to play the long game is all 
Requiem for a Broken Dream.
“You were picking up the pace with these,” Kwame pointed to Hector’s feet before holding up his hands in a fist, “But you still ain’t let these bitches go.”
“I’ll just be looking for that angle sometimes,” Hector explained between deep breaths, splashing some water on his face.
“The best way to create an angle might be to throw something at his face,” Kwame imitated throwing a jab and then taking a step back, “You just changed the picture by making him change the picture. If you’re just sitting here, moving your head around, stepping in and out, he might not change his picture, you feel me?”
Hector listened intently as the more experienced Kwame continued to school him on the finer points of the sweet science.
“How’s your weight?” Kwame asked the question that was always atop his mind this close to a fight week.
“It’s where it’s normally at around this time.”
“This your first time fighting over there?”
“We went there once for a tournament in the amateurs,” Hector remembered.
“They had a sauna at the hotel or you staying somewhere else?”
“I don’t know,” Hector shrugged, “Sal handles all that shit.”
“If it ain’t too hot, just throw a sweatsuit on, some plastics and everything underneath once you’re about six or seven pounds out, get your heartrate up with some sprints and then do a light jog for about forty, forty-five minutes. Don’t let your legs get heavy or anything but that’s what I always did without a sauna. I know y’all young boys be cooking yourselves in the bathtub and shit, but I don’t like that shit.”
“You always got the jewels, OG. I mean, we can work something out,” Hector propositioned, “I don’t got a spot on the corner but for an opportunity like this, I’d love to have you on the road with us man.”
“I got two kids, brother,” Kwame laughed, “Those road days are behind me. Besides, you’re in good hands with Sal and them, they know what they’re doing.”
“I love Sal,” Hector made sure to lower his voice, “But he ain’t fought in a fucking decade. You see that shit a little bit different and I need that shit sometimes, you feel me?”
“I don’t know,” Kwame sighed, “You’re a great kid and all but…”
“Just this one fight,” Hector held his hands up, “It ain’t even a full week or nothing. We fly out on Wednesday, be back by that Sunday night in your crib with your babies right next to you. And a couple stacks in your pocket.”
…
“You look like somebody killed your puppy or something,” Johnny aggressively nudged Kam, passing him the blunt.
Kam put his phone away, having grown tired of his empty notification center.
“That little nigga be taking all his carries and shit,” Marcus had made the effort to come watch Kam’s game only for him to be on the field for all of eight plays with four carries while Danny returned to form with a touchdown in their 29-3 win over a winless Tampa King team.
“So, when they give you the ball, you be tired and shit. And when they don’t give you the ball, you be mopey and shit. Motherfucker, when are you going to be happy again?”
Even Kam cracked a smile at Johnny’s joke, taking a final pull before passing the blunt to Marcus, “I guess ain’t no winning in this bitch.”
“Maybe we should steal off on that nigga like we did that big nigga,” Marcus laughed, “Homeboy was about to shit his self, I swear to god.”
“We gave that boy a pass off GP for you,” Johnny playfully tapped Kam on the chest, “Only for them to turn around and fuck you over. We should have robbed that fat motherfucker blind.”
“Fat nigga had designer and shit on,” Marcus scoffed, “His little bitch was some pressure too.”
The discussion around Halie, Mike’s girlfriend, was a welcomed distraction for Kam.
“I don’t normally go for white girls but I’d hit that,” Johnny chimed in.
“Motherfucker, you white!” Marcus fired back as he held off a laughing fit.
“Your baby moms ain’t black,” Johnny shrugged, “I mean, your girl barely black but the little college bitch you be fucking every other night white too. Matter of fact, I might fuck more black bitches than you do.”
“You out your nigga loving mind,” Marcus sat up in his seat, “Man, I was running through them hoes when we were in Daytona that weekend.”
“You were burning too,” Johnny quipped, drawing laughter from Kam.
“Jasmine ass might burn your shit, little nigga, so I don’t know why you laughing. Just because she was being stingy with that little pussy with you don’t mean she was being stingy with that shit around campus from what I heard,” Marcus’ words pierced through Kam’s armor as he tried his best to play it off.
“Don’t turn on me because he frying your ass,” Kam pointed to Johnny, “That shit don’t got nothing to do with me, gang. I’m a civilian in this, I’m Switzerland in this bitch.”
“Little smart nigga talking about some Switzerland,” Marcus laughed to himself, “Why don’t you make yourself useful and hit up that white bitch we was talking about, see what type of time she on. She ain’t a sophomore or nothing, right?”
"If it's grass, we playing," Johnny joked.
“I think she’s a senior,” Kam pulled out his phone, navigating to Danny’s social media page and went looking for a post that Mike was tagged in.
It didn’t take long to eventually find Halie’s page, who looked better than Kam remembered. She didn’t go to Blake and he hadn’t hung around Mike since, with good reason given his present company.
“Let me holler at her,” Marcus motioned for Kam to hand over his phone after he showed them her Instagram page.
“Fuck no,” Kam scoffed, “You ain’t about to put no smut on my name, bro.”
“Nigga, I’ve seen you spit your lame ass game to fucking Ravyn to fuck that bitch like a turkey sandwich and a fucking ice cream sandwich won’t get that bitch done.”
“How is everyone a hoe but you ain’t knocking it down,” Kam fired back, “I ain’t never really seen you bag nothing for real if we talking facts. You already had Brit and them so who knows how you got them hoes. That shit could be pay for play for all we know.”
“I’ll kill for pussy before I pay for it,” Marcus leaned back into his chair, getting ready to light another blunt, “If you can’t finesse that little white hoe, just pass that shit over or at least give a nigga her IG or something.”
Kam chose the lesser of evils as he clicked the ‘Follow’ button on Halie’s page, turning his phone around to show to Johnny and Marcus who both nodded in approval before returning to the smoking session.
It was only a few minutes before Kam’s phone lit up which he eagerly picked up, thinking it was Jasmine responding to his numerous text messages, but it was Halie accepting his follow request, which he had already forgotten about.
He kept the information to himself, not wanting to rile up the group. He sent her a simple ‘hey’ instant message, which given the context of their relationship – or rather lack thereof – was a Hail Mary in itself.
‘hey lol I almost declined but then I remember you from that night, what’s up?’
‘wyd’
‘why? lol’
‘we about to slide to ybor or something, thought you might want to come with, you seem like a vibe’
‘thanks I guess lol’
‘what you mean? You with it’
‘are you with danny or something?’
‘hell nah lmao with some real niggas trying to show you a good time is all’
‘is that right?’
‘yeah, my boy type feeling you fr fr’
Another blunt went through the rotation and then another, and another as Kam’s last message sat in the inbox read but answered. He had grown tired of constantly checking his phone and placed it on the coffee table in front of him that was littered with guts and guns.
“Why don’t you hit up Brit?” Kam suggested to Marcus, hoping Jasmine would tag along.
“She ain’t sliding over here,” Marcus shook his head, “That bitch scared of her own shadow. Besides, I was knocking that bitch walls loose last night, she probably ain’t even recover yet.”
“Man, stop bullshitting,” Johnny laughed.
“I can’t fuck that bitch back-to-back,” Marcus joined in on the laughter, “She be wanting to fuck all night and then complain her pussy hurt, how that fucking work?”
“I don’t think it should be hurting bruh,” Johnny cracked, “You ain’t loving the bitch right.”
Kam fazed himself out of the conversation and back into his phone, scrolling through his text threads until he landed on a familiar name that had been reliable in recent weeks for times like these as he clicked on Ravyn’s name.
Requiem for a Broken Dream.
lil heathens in here. ghetto hoopstars. Signing autographs & humping the hunnies.
Requiem for a Broken Dream.
“I mean, they’re still a quality team,” coach Sarria remarked as his eyes scanned through the piece of paper in front of him, “Just not a dominant one.”
“Jesuit is going to smoke them,” coach Justin added, “They don’t have the outside speed like they did before.”
“Which is why I say we hammer them with Kam,” coach Howell suggested to the group, “I mean, we saw how Danny played last year against them.”
“Everybody played bad last year,” coach Sutton quickly refuted, “Shit, we coached bad in that game. We exploit the speed advantage with guys like Tyrone, Danny, make them boys cover sideline to sideline and neutralize their size.”
“You’re playing right into their hand,” coach Howell continued to protest, “Danny’s fast but he doesn’t hit the hole quick. By the time he’s done dancing in the backfield, looking for a gap to hit, they’re going to rally to the football and make a play. Yeah, Kam might not rip off a sixty-yard touchdown like Danny can but he’s going to consistently keep us ahead of the sticks and stop the game from getting out of hand.”
“I’m not coming into a game just looking to neutralize the opponent as the fucking offense,” coach Sutton scoffed, “If we lose because of Danny, our best player, I can live with that. I ain’t putting my faith in a motherfucker that missed all of the summer, barely did shit in camp and had some good games against some sorry ass teams.”
…
Kam hurried himself off the field before the coaching staff changed their mind on no conditioning for the third straight practice with a light walk-through on the horizon for Thursday’s practice.
Kam could tell from the vibes around the locker room that the game against Tampa Catholic was the premiere one of the season, even with the team losing by forty-eight points the year before. It would likely decide the district champion and give them a more favorable path in the playoffs.
He was one of the first to reach the locker room and quickly undressed, taking off his pads before debating hopping in the shower. He ultimately decided against it, opting to do so when he got home in hopes that he would catch his dad in a giving mood to order takeout before he started cooking dinner.
Kam’s plans were quickly interrupted by the sight of a 300-pounder hovering over him as he sat on the bench to take his shoes off.
“Let me talk to you real quick,” Mike struggled to get out, his voice cracking halfway through.
Kam thought nothing of it, getting to his feet and throwing a shirt on as they walked to the back. The offensive line had gone out of their way to try to ease the tension building between Danny and Kam in the battle for carries with the big boys often cheering Kam up on the sidelines whenever Danny was getting the lion share of the carries within the game and vice versa. Mike wasn’t a starter, but Kam still figured this was one of those talks, given the big game on the horizon.
His belief was only strengthened when he saw two other linemen join them outside by the back door that led into the locker room from the tennis courts.
“You tried to talking to my girl?” Mike asked flatly, his arms crossed across his chest.
“What?” Kam laughed, genuinely forgetting that had happened at first before it came rushing back, “Oh, that was nothing bruh, my fucking friends were on my phone and shit being funny.”
“So, it wasn’t you?”
Kam was prepared to lie but then realized the tone of the conversation and the stern look on the other linemen’s face, “What you trying to do, bro?”
“I’m just asking you a question,” Mike reiterated, “How it goes down after that is up to you.”
Marcus’ words and advice of never getting marked out ran through Kam’s mind, “If you want to squabble, motherfucker, we can squabble.”
Heeding to his ‘OG’s’ advice, Kam didn’t wait for an answer and swung towards Mike’s jaw, connecting flush on the big target. Kam quickly put his guard up, walking Mike down as he landed several punches to every one that Mike was lazily swinging back, a clear sign it was Mike’s first fist fight.
Luckily for the senior lineman, reinforcement quickly came with the other two jumping in but also failing to get a clean shot on Kam.
Kam took a few steps back, trying to assess the best possible outcome. He kept backing up until his back was now against the wall, a mistake he had thought better to avoid.
Accepting his fate, he lunged at one of them and hit him clean, but it bought the other two enough time to get their hands on Kam and easily threw him to the ground.
“Let him up, let him up, let him up,” commanded one of them, which they obliged, “Beat his ass, Mike!”
It was once again a one-on-one fight between Kam and Mike with Kam getting the better of him despite keeping an eye on the other two. As Kam’s punches started landing more and more, they once again jumped in, this time pushing Kam against the wall and holding him there as Mike started unleashing punches.
“Chill out!” Kam overheard coming from the door as he tried his best to cover up his face, “Y’all got his ass already, damn.”
“Pussy ass fuck nigga,” Mike slapped Kam on the head as they began walking away and past Danny who held the door open.
…
Kam was quickly wrapped up behind the line of scrimmage, the defenders placing their entire weight on him as they got up off the ground. Kam knew better than to expect getting helped off the floor as they were barely blocking for him in the first place.
The news had travelled fast through the locker room, effectively ordering a code red against the transfer running back.
Kam jogged off the field, ignoring the claps of encouragement from coach Howell as he reached the sidelines and took his helmet off.
“You are getting fucked up out there 33,” said one of the guys, not bothering to hide their glee.
…
“Hernandez breaks loose, and I don’t think anyone’s going to catch him as he scored from 45-yards out!”
…
No one was more surprised that it was a seven-point game at half-time than Blake’s coaching staff as they quickly huddled up while the team excitedly began filling up the locker room.
“Let’s stretch them with Justin to start the second half,” coach Sarria suggested, “They can’t keep coming out with single high.”
“What are you thinking?” coach Sutton asked, looking down as his sheet of plays, “Beverly Hills?”
“Fuck it,” coach Sarria laughed, “They ain’t going to be ready for it.”
…
“A modest gain on the return as Howard Blake’s offense comes out onto the field from the 24-yard line. Moreno under center, Hernandez the lone back in the backfield. Ferrell motions to the right…”
…
Danny tried his best to compose himself and not rush the play as he stepped up and received the handoff from Zach. He took a few steps forward before turning around and lofting the ball back to Zach just as a Tampa Catholic defender rammed their shoulder into Danny’s back, practically folding him in half.
Zach had to bend down to catch the ball as he tried to quickly find the laces with a defender screaming towards him.
…
“Moreno barely gets it off and it’s intercepted! Roberge has a calvary in front of him and he’s going to walk into the endzone for the touchdown!”
…
The training table was surrounded as Danny writhed in pain, clutching at his back. Zach sat on the edge of the table as the medical staff tried to ascertain if he knew what year he was in. He was answering the questions correctly, but the trainers seemed unconvinced as they all looked at each other and then towards coach Sutton with a shrug.
“I just need you to hand the ball off,” coach Sarria told the quarterback, “If we put someone else in, it’s going to be the entire marching band inside that box, you hear me?”
…
“A lot of work for a modest gain as Seidu-Harris picks up a few yards.”
…
“Bounces off a tackler, stiff arms another and he’s going to get the first down.”
…
“Seidu-Harris pushes the pile forward and picks up some extra yards with great effort on that run.”
…
“Sixth straight carry for Seidu-Harris as he gets the ball across the 50-yard line for the first time since halftime.”
…
“He tries to bounce the run outside but he’s going to be stopped short of the marker, bringing on the field goal unit in what was a very busy drive for Kamaldeen Seidu-Harris.”
…
Kam unstrapped his helmet and took it off, shaking his dreads loose before putting it back on. His back was aching while his legs felt like noodles. He very well could have been playing with a concussion suffered at the hands of his own teammates and acerbated by Tampa Catholic’s physical defense.
He had carried the ball on nearly every single play of the second half and even with the game out of hand, he lined up behind Zach for another.
He hit the hole with the little energy that he had, uncharacteristically stopping his feet once he broke through the line of scrimmage and was face up with the linebacker. He hard stepped to his right and then his left and then his right again, surprisingly fooling the linebacker. He exploded off his left foot and out of grasp of the lunging defender before extending his arm into the safety’s facemask and pushing him to the ground.
Kam picked up his speed with every strive, finding a reserve of energy as the endzone came within sight.
He tossed the ball to the official, not bothering to celebrate outside of tapping his chest three times, kissing his hand and pointing to the sky. He adopted a slow gait as he walked towards the sidelines, who were in amazement but did their best to conceal it with just a smattering of applause.
-
Captain Canada
- Posts: 4997
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
Requiem for a Broken Dream.
And the descent slowly begins (despite his good play on the field).
Requiem for a Broken Dream.
Interesting chain of events. Usually the hogs love them a big boy in the backfield. Kam ruined it.
Requiem for a Broken Dream.
Kam doing his best but people always bringing him down smhCaptain Canada wrote: ↑18 Jul 2024, 15:49And the descent slowly begins (despite his good play on the field).
To be fair to Kam, Big Mike ain't exactly his friend for real and Kam didn't even do nothing much. Big Mike should be mad at his bih for entertaining it as long as she did if we're being honest