Dale Denton | The Legacy | Rookie Year

[The JZA]

Or, he could knock a girl up and be forced to stay as to not be like his own absent father.

redsox907, Don't ever sleep with a girl from Manning, SC

[The JZA]

[James]

Threw it up there because it's NY state, but also cause of your chise

That part of my chise was a lot of fun.

[djp73]

Let’s go double d

[The JZA]

Let’s go double d

djp73, Literally just wrapped up game 1

[chosenone58]

I'm circling back to this when I get a minute....

[The JZA]

[The JZA]

I'm circling back to this when I get a minute....

chosenone58, My brother Chosen in the mother fucking building!!

[The JZA]

Chapter VII: On My Way To Church Pt. II

It was official—Manning High Monarchs had just checked off their first win of the season. In the books. Sealed. Dale Denton’s debut was nothing short of cinematic.

First half? Ugly. Real ugly.

Both sides came out like boxers in round one, jabbing, feeling each other out, but never swinging for the chin. Crestwood Knights struck first blood in the second, and for a moment, the Monarchs’ sideline started to twitch like nerves in a busted wire. But Dale? He ain’t blink once.

He stood tall behind that line like a seasoned vet, commanding every snap with a calm that made boys around him play like men. It wasn’t just the arm—although he had that. It was the presence. Dale was born for the lights. And tonight, under that thick-ass southern sky, he showed every doubter why his name carried weight, even out of state.

Final score: 21-14, Monarchs. And just like that... the story began.

Before they could even finish shaking hands at midfield, clips of Dale’s second-half heroics were already flooding the timeline. A tight spiral over double coverage. A gutsy scramble through traffic that turned seven yards into a touchdown. The slow-mo clip of him shrugging off the free safety had already hit 3,000 views by the time he stepped off the field.

The real ones knew: this wasn’t just game one. This was Chapter One.

Back behind the chain-link fence, near the corner where old heads and players' pops kicked back and watched the show, stood Mark Denton, arms folded, a slick smirk painted across his face. Sweat glistened on his brow, but that wasn't from the heat—it was pride. The type of pride a man keeps close to the chest, but every now and then, lets peek out.

“You got a flair for the dramatic, huh?” Mark said as Dale approached, helmet in hand, shoulder pads slung low.

Dale chuckled, cocky without the arrogance. “It was in the bag before kickoff. Just had to give the people a show.”

Mark raised a brow and nudged his son with an elbow. “You did that. Had these folks jumping out their seats. I ain’t gonna hold you... you looked better than them little clips online. You played with heart tonight. Command. You know what y’all young cats call that?” He leaned in with a grin. “Gang shit.”

Dale blinked. “Ayo… Chill. Not here.” He darted his eyes around, hoping no teammates heard. But deep down? He loved it.

They both laughed. Unspoken, but understood—something was changing between them.

Dale hadn’t noticed it fully yet, but that wall? That invisible wall between him and Mark? It was cracking. Not from the top down, but from the inside. Like time and effort had finally found the right chisel.

“Go ahead inside,” Mark said. “I know Coach Kennedy’s got one of them rah-rah speeches lined up for y’all. I’ll be out front.”

“Say less.”

Dale stepped back into the hut, only to get ambushed with cheers. Cats clapping, banging helmets together, shouting out. One of the linemen tossed him the game ball and Dale hit a quick Heisman pose, the hut lit up with chants of "Ayyeee!" with each pose. It was stupid, it was funny, but it was real. It felt good to smile. Real good.

This was his element. Not just the game. The brotherhood. Even if Dale didn’t have lifelong friends here, he had teammates to build here. And that bond was going to be gold-stitched and war-tested. Something a man could carry with him, even if time snatched the memories.

Coach Kennedy entered and brought the noise to a simmer.

“Alright, men,” he barked, standing dead center in front of the whiteboard, still sweaty from the sidelines. “That’s how you start a season!”

A round of applause followed..

“But let me say this... That win out there? That’s not just a game. That’s momentum. It’s the spark before the fire. You earned that. All of you. But don’t get caught up in the smoke.

“But I want y’all to remember something. For a lot of you, this ain't just your first win of the season. Especially for my seniors, this is one of your lasts. One of the last times you gone feel the crowd go nuts for you at this level. Last times your jersey will be more than just cloth. Some of you will go on to continue playing football in college, some of you will take life head on. So treat every game like a memory in the making.”

He pointed to the chalkboard where four letters were bolded like a creed: D.I.R.T.

"Defend. Inspire. Respect. Trust. That’s what we stand on. That’s what this team is. Without your brother to your left and right, you're nothing. No matter how nice you think you are.”

Silence fell in the room as Coach Kennedy let the merit sink in.

“You are your brother’s keeper. Amen?”

“AMEN!” the team roared back.

After the speech, the squad began peeling off gear and sliding back into jeans and sneakers. Dale stayed behind, dapping up every teammate on their way out. Shoulder bumps, laughs, nods of mutual respect. Kennedy caught it all with a sideways glance.

“You’re full of surprises, Mr. Denton.”

Dale looked up, tossing his pads into his bag. “How you figure?”

“Most kids rush outta here to post up on Snap and talk about stats. You? You made sure everybody felt seen.”

“It’s a thing I do,” Dale shrugged. “There’s more to being the last one out the gym than just getting reps in.”

Kennedy nodded, chewing on that thought. ““Love the way you think. Got a good head on your shoulders. You see the scouts out there tonight?”

Dale raised a brow. “Scouts? Nah. I was zoned in.”

“Coach raised an eyebrow. “Well, they noticed you. Few D3 schools out of state came to peep.”

“D3?” Dale nodded slowly. “That’s cool. Not the dream, but it’s a start.”

“Don’t sleep on D3, son. NFL got cats from everywhere. The path ain’t gotta be pretty—it just gotta be yours.”

Dale stuffed his jersey in his bag, slung it over his shoulder. “Yeah… I hear that. Just happy to be back on the field. For a minute, I had thought that this was dead when I moved. New state. New place. New school. I guess mentally, I gave up on football until my old man came through.”

Kennedy clapped him on the back. “And now look at you. Ain’t been here six months and you already leading. Don’t stress so much on the future, Denton. Stay present. Grow. You’ll be surprised where that mindset takes you.”

“Appreciate it, Coach. For real.”

“See you Monday.”

Dale stepped outside, the thick Carolina humidity hitting him in the chest like a pillow full of wet heat. It smelled like rain. You could taste it in the air. But for once, he welcomed it.

Dale took a deep breath. Held it. Let it go slow.

One game down. Ten to go.

Eyes on the storm. Feet on the field. The grind never stopped.

And Dale Denton? He was just getting started.

[Agent]

That's one interception too many if he's going to attract the heavy hitters. Solid dub to open the season. Pep rallies going crazy