alright maybe you beat the allegations and don't go D2 to be with the girl
Buffalo ain't bad. Play a few years, then transfer to Notre Dame since Chase a nice catholic boy and all
Run To The Sun
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redsox907
- Posts: 2645
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djp73
Topic author - Posts: 10380
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 13:42
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The JZA
- Posts: 8434
- Joined: 07 Dec 2018, 13:10
Run To The Sun
Choosing what program to rep is the equivalent of a woman knowing where she wants to eat out
UB not a bad look though
UB not a bad look though
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Soapy
- Posts: 12505
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 18:42
Run To The Sun
yall boys still ain't playing games yet?
couldn't be me
couldn't be me
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djp73
Topic author - Posts: 10380
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 13:42
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djp73
Topic author - Posts: 10380
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 13:42
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djp73
Topic author - Posts: 10380
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 13:42
Run To The Sun
Chase sat across from Coach Johnson and Coach Lembo in a modest office inside the Buffalo athletic complex. Outside, snow swirled around the stadium bleachers. Inside, the heater hummed quietly.
“We’ve got talent in that room already,” Lembo said, his eyes steady. “A couple guys who played big snaps last year.”
Coach Johnson leaned forward, folding his hands. “But you’ve got a skill set we like. The explosiveness, vision, grit. Leadership. If you come in hungry, compete this spring and fall, we could see you in the mix right away.”
Chase nodded, weighing every word. No promises. No sugarcoating. Just an open door and a shot to earn his place.
Afterward, he walked the campus with a student-athlete tour guide, who showed him the weight room, dorms, indoor facility. Chase kept nodding, polite and quiet, filing away everything. Every hallway, every practice field, he compared unconsciously to Sleepy Hollow. And, further back, to Livermore Falls.
---
On the ride home, Chase sat quietly in the backseat of his parents’ car. His gear was stashed in the trunk, his phone loose in his hand and his mind somewhere else.
His dad commented on the training room upgrades; his mom brought up the student support center.
Chase didn’t say much.
He kept replaying Coach Johnson’s voice in his head.
The weight of the decision settled over him like the gray clouds overhead.
His phone buzzed.
“How’d it go?”
He stared at the screen, then thumbed back a reply.
“It was good. I liked it. Definitely an option.”
He leaned his head against the cold window. Snow ticked against the glass. He didn’t say more. Not yet.
---
Sophie sat on the couch, legs folded beneath her, nervously twisting a strand of hair as she typed on her laptop, filling out forms to finalize her enrollment at Erie
Chase was sprawled out in the recliner, half watching football. The quiet between them wasn’t tense, just heavy. Full of things unsaid.
"So," Sophie finally said, voice soft, "What do you think?”
Chase let the question marinate.
He sighed.
“I think I'm in.” He answered, hurrying the words so he couldn't take them back.
She looked up, somewhat surprised by the sudden almost confidence he had in the decision.
“Wow.” She Paused. “I wasn't expecting that answer.”
“I know. I wasn't until I started saying it.”
“What made you decide?”
He had been non-committal for weeks, talking about still taking other visits to D-II schools and even meeting with the coaches at Erie again.
“Well it definitely helps that you'll be close.”
She set her laptop on the coffee table and climbed into the recliner with him, wrapping her arms around him.
“And I just got a good feeling from the coaches. Like I belong and they really want me there. I felt like they were being real with me. Telling me I could possibly compete for reps. Not just saying what they thought would get me there.”
She nodded.
"That's how I felt when I decided on Erie. I liked Hudson Valley for sure. But when I picture myself actually going somewhere, getting a real reset... Erie just feels right."
“Yeah..." he trailed off, not finishing the thought.
Sophie leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder.
---
The library conference room smelled faintly of dry-erase markers and freshly vacuumed carpet.
Jalen sat at a worn table, a single sheet of paper in front of him.
No banners, no rows of hats, no crowd.
Just his mother, a few coaches and a few kids from the school's social media department.
His mom placed a quiet hand on his shoulder as he uncapped the pen.
“You okay?” she asked softly.
Jalen looked around the room, acknowledging the stark difference between today and the last time.
He nodded.
“Yeah. I’m good.”
He meant it, too. This wasn’t what he pictured a year ago—not even close. But this felt real.
He signed the letter in two strokes, then leaned back in the chair. His signature, once destined for Power Five glory, now committed him to a team with a losing record and facilities that paled in comparison to what he'd had in high school.
A coach gave him a firm handshake.
“We’re lucky to have you, Jalen. You’re going to do something special out there.”
Jalen smiled.
“I plan to.”
Outside, the sun peeked through a cloud bank. He pulled up the schedule on his phone.
Six weeks to kickoff.
Time to start again.
---
Graduation day arrived with sunlight and the sound of car horns echoing off the school parking lot.
Seniors in red and gray gowns clustered in little groups, trading stories and posing for photos. The gymnasium buzzed with energy.
Chase stood near the back, cap slightly crooked, scanning the crowd.
He spotted Johnny Doughty giving a mock-salute to one of the teachers.
Miles, in a rare moment of quiet, was adjusting his tassel and taking deep breaths.
Principal Gomez called names one by one.
When "Chase Pryor" rang out across the gym, a ripple of applause followed. Not loud, but steady. Real.
He walked across the stage, shook hands, and accepted his diploma.
His parents beamed in the crowd, Sophie too.
Outside, beneath a cluster of balloons, Coach Ella clapped him on the back.
"You did it."
---
Their last days in Sleepy Hollow were a whirlwind of activity.
Packing, shopping, saying goodbyes.
Boxes were stacked in the living room. The fridge was nearly empty. Sophie sat cross-legged on the floor, wrapping breakables in newspaper.
Chase stood at the window, staring at the familiar town he’d once felt lost in.
"Do you remember when we first met?" she asked.
He turned. "Bagel shop."
She smiled and nodded.
“I almost went to the other place.” He said, thinking of the implications that might have held.
Chase grinned and walked over to her. He knelt beside her, pulled a wrapped mug from her hand, and set it aside.
"I'm glad I came here," he said. "I didn’t expect any of it. But I wouldn’t change it."
Sophie leaned in and kissed him. It was brief, but full.
"Me either."
---
Practice at Buffalo was different.
Faster. Louder. Sharper.
Chase stood at the edge of the turf, helmet in hand, cleats digging into unfamiliar grass. Around him, veterans joked, stretched, and sprinted through their warmups like it was just another day.
But to Chase, it felt like day one of a new life.
He ran every drill clean but quiet. Didn’t talk much. Didn’t laugh. Just worked.
Later, in the locker room, he sat alone for a while, scrolling through his playbook and silently wondering where he fit. He wasn’t the biggest, the fastest, or the loudest. But he’d earned his way here.
He just had to remind himself of that.
---
Two weeks later, something clicked.
It wasn’t a big moment. Just a good block in a pass protection drill.
Then a cutback in an inside zone run that drew a "Nice footwork, 22!" from Coach Johnson.
Then a pass rep where he turned a simple swing route into a 20-yard gain.
The other running backs started dapping him up. Jokes came easier. So did the playbook.
He stayed after practice to run routes. He jogged off the field with the vets.
He started to feel like he belonged.
---
Late August brought heat and final decisions.
After a full-speed scrimmage, Chase was toweling sweat off his face when Coach Johnson walked over.
"Pryor. You’re dressing Game One. You earned it. Might get some burn, too. Be ready."
Chase blinked, searching for a reply.
"Yes sir. I will."
As the coach walked off, Chase allowed himself one small fist pump.
He sat on the bench, pulled off his gloves, and looked up at the sky.
Everything was about to begin.
---
Chase tried to stay focused on the captains leading the warmup lines, mimicking each movement with sharpness and discipline. Lunges, arm circles, hip rotations. But his eyes kept drifting.
Above the rim of the stadium, a wave of gold and maroon spilled into the seats like a rising tide.
What started as a scattered crowd was now a surging mass, buzzing with anticipation and pulsing with music and announcer chatter. It was loud, even before kickoff. The student section was already on their feet, synchronized claps and chants echoing through the bowl.
Chase turned his head and caught a glimpse of the Minnesota players warming up across the field. Bigger bodies. Louder pads. Coaches barking in tempo. It all looked like it was moving at double speed.
He inhaled deeply, steadying his breath.
His eyes traveled up the towering bleachers to the highest row, further than anything he’d ever seen from field level.
At Livermore Falls, the home bleachers were a few rows of aluminum with rusted edges.
Sleepy Hollow’s crowd was bigger, especially as the season went on.
But this… this was something else.
For a fleeting moment, doubt whispered in his ear.
He shut his eyes for half a second and shook it off.
“You earned this.” He said to himself.
He brought his attention back to the turf beneath his cleats. The stretch lines. The rhythm of the warmups. The feel of his jersey clinging slightly with sweat.
The noise swelled again as the PA announcer called out the Minnesota marching band, but Chase was back in his body now.
He bounced twice on his toes, rolled his shoulders, and muttered under his breath:
“Lock the fuck in.”
“We’ve got talent in that room already,” Lembo said, his eyes steady. “A couple guys who played big snaps last year.”
Coach Johnson leaned forward, folding his hands. “But you’ve got a skill set we like. The explosiveness, vision, grit. Leadership. If you come in hungry, compete this spring and fall, we could see you in the mix right away.”
Chase nodded, weighing every word. No promises. No sugarcoating. Just an open door and a shot to earn his place.
Afterward, he walked the campus with a student-athlete tour guide, who showed him the weight room, dorms, indoor facility. Chase kept nodding, polite and quiet, filing away everything. Every hallway, every practice field, he compared unconsciously to Sleepy Hollow. And, further back, to Livermore Falls.
---
On the ride home, Chase sat quietly in the backseat of his parents’ car. His gear was stashed in the trunk, his phone loose in his hand and his mind somewhere else.
His dad commented on the training room upgrades; his mom brought up the student support center.
Chase didn’t say much.
He kept replaying Coach Johnson’s voice in his head.
The weight of the decision settled over him like the gray clouds overhead.
His phone buzzed.
“How’d it go?”
He stared at the screen, then thumbed back a reply.
“It was good. I liked it. Definitely an option.”
He leaned his head against the cold window. Snow ticked against the glass. He didn’t say more. Not yet.
---
Sophie sat on the couch, legs folded beneath her, nervously twisting a strand of hair as she typed on her laptop, filling out forms to finalize her enrollment at Erie
Chase was sprawled out in the recliner, half watching football. The quiet between them wasn’t tense, just heavy. Full of things unsaid.
"So," Sophie finally said, voice soft, "What do you think?”
Chase let the question marinate.
He sighed.
“I think I'm in.” He answered, hurrying the words so he couldn't take them back.
She looked up, somewhat surprised by the sudden almost confidence he had in the decision.
“Wow.” She Paused. “I wasn't expecting that answer.”
“I know. I wasn't until I started saying it.”
“What made you decide?”
He had been non-committal for weeks, talking about still taking other visits to D-II schools and even meeting with the coaches at Erie again.
“Well it definitely helps that you'll be close.”
She set her laptop on the coffee table and climbed into the recliner with him, wrapping her arms around him.
“And I just got a good feeling from the coaches. Like I belong and they really want me there. I felt like they were being real with me. Telling me I could possibly compete for reps. Not just saying what they thought would get me there.”
She nodded.
"That's how I felt when I decided on Erie. I liked Hudson Valley for sure. But when I picture myself actually going somewhere, getting a real reset... Erie just feels right."
“Yeah..." he trailed off, not finishing the thought.
Sophie leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder.
---
The library conference room smelled faintly of dry-erase markers and freshly vacuumed carpet.
Jalen sat at a worn table, a single sheet of paper in front of him.
No banners, no rows of hats, no crowd.
Just his mother, a few coaches and a few kids from the school's social media department.
His mom placed a quiet hand on his shoulder as he uncapped the pen.
“You okay?” she asked softly.
Jalen looked around the room, acknowledging the stark difference between today and the last time.
He nodded.
“Yeah. I’m good.”
He meant it, too. This wasn’t what he pictured a year ago—not even close. But this felt real.
He signed the letter in two strokes, then leaned back in the chair. His signature, once destined for Power Five glory, now committed him to a team with a losing record and facilities that paled in comparison to what he'd had in high school.
A coach gave him a firm handshake.
“We’re lucky to have you, Jalen. You’re going to do something special out there.”
Jalen smiled.
“I plan to.”
Outside, the sun peeked through a cloud bank. He pulled up the schedule on his phone.
Six weeks to kickoff.
Time to start again.
---
Graduation day arrived with sunlight and the sound of car horns echoing off the school parking lot.
Seniors in red and gray gowns clustered in little groups, trading stories and posing for photos. The gymnasium buzzed with energy.
Chase stood near the back, cap slightly crooked, scanning the crowd.
He spotted Johnny Doughty giving a mock-salute to one of the teachers.
Miles, in a rare moment of quiet, was adjusting his tassel and taking deep breaths.
Principal Gomez called names one by one.
When "Chase Pryor" rang out across the gym, a ripple of applause followed. Not loud, but steady. Real.
He walked across the stage, shook hands, and accepted his diploma.
His parents beamed in the crowd, Sophie too.
Outside, beneath a cluster of balloons, Coach Ella clapped him on the back.
"You did it."
---
Their last days in Sleepy Hollow were a whirlwind of activity.
Packing, shopping, saying goodbyes.
Boxes were stacked in the living room. The fridge was nearly empty. Sophie sat cross-legged on the floor, wrapping breakables in newspaper.
Chase stood at the window, staring at the familiar town he’d once felt lost in.
"Do you remember when we first met?" she asked.
He turned. "Bagel shop."
She smiled and nodded.
“I almost went to the other place.” He said, thinking of the implications that might have held.
Chase grinned and walked over to her. He knelt beside her, pulled a wrapped mug from her hand, and set it aside.
"I'm glad I came here," he said. "I didn’t expect any of it. But I wouldn’t change it."
Sophie leaned in and kissed him. It was brief, but full.
"Me either."
---
Practice at Buffalo was different.
Faster. Louder. Sharper.
Chase stood at the edge of the turf, helmet in hand, cleats digging into unfamiliar grass. Around him, veterans joked, stretched, and sprinted through their warmups like it was just another day.
But to Chase, it felt like day one of a new life.
He ran every drill clean but quiet. Didn’t talk much. Didn’t laugh. Just worked.
Later, in the locker room, he sat alone for a while, scrolling through his playbook and silently wondering where he fit. He wasn’t the biggest, the fastest, or the loudest. But he’d earned his way here.
He just had to remind himself of that.
---
Two weeks later, something clicked.
It wasn’t a big moment. Just a good block in a pass protection drill.
Then a cutback in an inside zone run that drew a "Nice footwork, 22!" from Coach Johnson.
Then a pass rep where he turned a simple swing route into a 20-yard gain.
The other running backs started dapping him up. Jokes came easier. So did the playbook.
He stayed after practice to run routes. He jogged off the field with the vets.
He started to feel like he belonged.
---
Late August brought heat and final decisions.
After a full-speed scrimmage, Chase was toweling sweat off his face when Coach Johnson walked over.
"Pryor. You’re dressing Game One. You earned it. Might get some burn, too. Be ready."
Chase blinked, searching for a reply.
"Yes sir. I will."
As the coach walked off, Chase allowed himself one small fist pump.
He sat on the bench, pulled off his gloves, and looked up at the sky.
Everything was about to begin.
---
Chase tried to stay focused on the captains leading the warmup lines, mimicking each movement with sharpness and discipline. Lunges, arm circles, hip rotations. But his eyes kept drifting.
Above the rim of the stadium, a wave of gold and maroon spilled into the seats like a rising tide.
What started as a scattered crowd was now a surging mass, buzzing with anticipation and pulsing with music and announcer chatter. It was loud, even before kickoff. The student section was already on their feet, synchronized claps and chants echoing through the bowl.
Chase turned his head and caught a glimpse of the Minnesota players warming up across the field. Bigger bodies. Louder pads. Coaches barking in tempo. It all looked like it was moving at double speed.
He inhaled deeply, steadying his breath.
His eyes traveled up the towering bleachers to the highest row, further than anything he’d ever seen from field level.
At Livermore Falls, the home bleachers were a few rows of aluminum with rusted edges.
Sleepy Hollow’s crowd was bigger, especially as the season went on.
But this… this was something else.
For a fleeting moment, doubt whispered in his ear.
He shut his eyes for half a second and shook it off.
“You earned this.” He said to himself.
He brought his attention back to the turf beneath his cleats. The stretch lines. The rhythm of the warmups. The feel of his jersey clinging slightly with sweat.
The noise swelled again as the PA announcer called out the Minnesota marching band, but Chase was back in his body now.
He bounced twice on his toes, rolled his shoulders, and muttered under his breath:
“Lock the fuck in.”
-
djp73
Topic author - Posts: 10380
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 13:42
Run To The Sun
FRESHMAN RB CHASE PRYOR CATCHES A PASS IN BUFFALO'S UPSET WIN AT MINNESOTA
Chase Pryor Stats: 2 Rec 18 Yds
Chase Pryor Season Stats: 2 Rec 18 Yds
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djp73
Topic author - Posts: 10380
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 13:42
Run To The Sun
BUFFALO'S CHASE PRYOR RUNS WITH THE BALL IN SATURDAY'S WIN
Chase Pryor Stats: 2 Car 14 Yds
Chase Pryor Season Stats: 2 Car 14 Yds, 2 Rec 18 Yds
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Chillcavern
- Posts: 958
- Joined: 07 Dec 2018, 23:38
- Contact:
Run To The Sun
Trying to make the most of your couple touches a game here - hope you get more chances here soon.
Did my Gophers dirty - beat them worse than the FCS team
Did my Gophers dirty - beat them worse than the FCS team