Dale Denton | The Legacy | Rookie Year

[chosenone58]

All caught up.

Our boy made some serious moves on the field to get the big schools calling.

Damn, Keisha.....

[The JZA]

Chapter XIII: Legacy

A week had crept by, moving slow like syrup in January. Time was dragging its feet through the cold, each day simmering on low like something left in the crockpot too long. Dale could still see the video. Still hear the voice. Still feel the blade that cut deep without even drawing blood. It lived in his mind, rent-free, sitting on the couch of his thoughts with its feet kicked up and no plans to leave.

Luckily, winter break had rolled in like a lifeline. School was off, and Dale finally had time to just be.

He buried himself in training—running drills in the cold until his lungs burned and the sweat froze against his skin. When he wasn’t pushing iron, he was shadowing Mark around the county doing odd jobs, raking yards and clearing storm drains. There was a snowstorm in the forecast, and when snow came to South Carolina, even in dustings, it brought money with it. And Dale needed to keep his hands busy.

Mark never brought up Keisha. Never pried. He just gave Dale his space and let the silence do the healing. That’s the kind of man Mark was becoming as a father—present without being loud, supportive without smothering. Dale appreciated that. He wasn’t used to letting people in when he was hurting. He'd rather choke on his own pain than spit it out loud.

Always had...

It was a Thursday afternoon when Dale found himself in the garage gym, sweeping and wiping down the benches. The place smelled like metal and focus, with plates stacked on racks and resistance bands hanging like vines. This was his sanctuary, where hurt came to die and resolve was born.

That’s when he heard the engine.

Low rumble. Heavy tyres. A black pickup pulled into the driveway.

Dale squinted out the side window, confused for a sec. Then the driver’s side door popped open.

“Hey, Dale! What’s going on?” Coach Kennedy called out, stepping down from the truck with his usual slow wobble.

Dale straightened up. “What’s up, Coach? Ain’t nothing—just cleaning, sprucing up the place.”

Coach glanced around the space with an approving nod. “So this is where the magic happens, huh?”

“Yeah, this where it all go down. My old man got me set up. If it wasn’t school or games, it was here, training. If it wasn't rest day, it was training. No days off.”

Coach’s brow rose. “Your father really drilled that in you.”

Dale shook his head, wiping his hands on a towel. “Nah, that’s all me. I’m hard on myself. Even when I almost gave up on football, I knew if I kept going, I’d regret quitting less than I’d regret settling.”

Coach smiled, impressed. “I respect that. Just don’t let the grind eat you alive. Learn to appreciate your work while you still breathing.”

Just then, Mark stepped out the front door, drying his hands on a rag. “Coach Kennedy. What’s the word?”

Coach walked over and extended a hand. “Mr. Denton, good to see you. I just stopped by to talk to your boy here. You got a good one—he’s going places.”

"I hear that." Mark chuckled, giving Dale a sideways look. “He got that Denton athleticism from me, but that drive? That’s his mama through and through. That woman don’t quit.”

Coach laughed, then snapped his fingers. “Almost forgot why I came. Hold up.”

He hustled back to the truck, popped open the passenger door, and pulled out a red box, big and bold like a Christmas present that knew it was special.

“Ooh, big red box?” Mark teased. “That’s usually somethin’ sweet.”

Dale tilted his head, curiosity kicking in. Coach walked back over and handed it to him.

“This is from the team,” he said. “A little token of appreciation for the hard work and culture you brought to Manning. Winning that trophy meant everything to us. Consider this an early Christmas.”

Dale sat the box down on the weight bench and peeled off the wrapping. The box opened with a soft creak. Inside was a framed jersey. His jersey.

#5 — DENTON

Below the glass, it read: “May this one year last forever. Thank you.”

Every signature was there—teammates, coaches, even the assistant principals and the school’s head.

Dale’s mouth brandished a smile. “Coach… I don’t even know what to say. This is crazy.”

“We were gonna wait till graduation,” Coach said, “but figured, why wait? You earned this. You’ll always be part of Manning now.”

Mark clapped a hand on Dale’s shoulder. “Too bad you ain’t play four years here—they might’ve put a statue out front.”

Coach chuckled. “Uh huh, bring us four straight championships, we might've had to make that happen.”

Dale stared at the jersey like it was a window into everything he’d been through. The practices. The losses. The grind. The comeback. This frame was more than fabric and ink—it was proof.

Coach cleared his throat. “Now, about National Signing Day—it’s coming quick. If you’re still weighing your options, cool. But when you ready to commit, we’d love to host your announcement. In the gym. Spotlight. Cameras. Whole school.”

“For real?” Dale lit up. “I was just gonna post it online.”

“Nah, man, we want to celebrate you. Proper.”

Dale nodded slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m with that.”

Coach leaned in, voice low. “Inside trade? You got a top three?”

Dale smirked. “Wish I could tell you. I still ain’t even got a top five.”

Mark raised a brow. “Even I’m still in the dark on this one.”

“It ain’t ‘cause I’m keeping secrets. I just… I’m looking at more than football. I want it all to make sense—on and off the field.”

Coach nodded. “Good. That means you’re thinking beyond the jersey.”

Dale gently laid the framed jersey down and exhaled. “This right here? This helps. For real.” That was the understatement of the month. What Dale's mind was funneling, see that plaque brought some light into world that wasn't only just the Sun. Dale thought to himself that he may not be longed for South Carolina, but the people, they're alright.

“You earned it,” Coach said again. “Now, I gotta hit this grocery store before my wife starts blowing up my phone. Y’all be easy.”

After he drove off, Mark watched Dale admire the jersey again, eyes locked on the names, the number, the message. That box held more than fabric—it held legacy.

“You might not like it here,” Mark said, “but you left your mark, kid. That trophy at that school? That’s your legacy, where it starts. And it don’t end just ‘cause you leave.”

Dale nodded slowly, still staring at the frame. For the first time in a minute... he smiled, purely.

[The JZA]

All caught up.

chosenone58,

Our boy made some serious moves on the field to get the big schools calling.

Damn, Keisha.....

The streets ain't been kind to him, but the gridiron loves the lil' homie. But it's decision time. Anything back outside of mom dukes is irrelevant. No distractions.

[James]

I lived in Goose Creek / Summerville from 2009-2013. So Berkeley County.

James, Look at you southern boy lol I was just a county over in Clarendon from '97-'10. Car accident and bad assumptions kept me there

I was in the military, did my first 4 years of the Navy there. I loved being down there minus the Palmetto bugs and the heat/humidity. Played a lot of golf too. Navy moved me up to CT and showed me what a nice summer looked like. I do miss the BBQ there. I had some great BBQ in SC.

[The JZA]

I was in the military, did my first 4 years of the Navy there. I loved being down there minus the Palmetto bugs and the heat/humidity. Played a lot of golf too. Navy moved me up to CT and showed me what a nice summer looked like. I do miss the BBQ there. I had some great BBQ in SC.

Always something new with you man. Thank you for your service Big James

[The JZA]

[The JZA]

Chapter XIV

The clock kept ticking, and winter kept whispering its chill across the backroads of South Carolina like a secret it didn’t wanna tell loud. The new year had rolled in, but Dale’s mind was still stuck in a place where minutes dragged like heavy feet through cold mud. There wasn’t no more football. No more late-night practice runs. No more game film under dim lights. All that was left now was a decision—and the weight of it sat on Dale’s chest like a barbell with no spotter.

His days in the Palmetto State were numbered, and it felt like the whole town of Manning knew it too. Every corner he turned, someone had something to say.

“You gon’ rep the orange and purple, right?”

“You look like a Gamecock to me!”

“Boy, don’t go up north with them snow bunnies. Stay home.”

Some said it with love. Some with agenda. Some just wanted to say they influenced the moment when Dale Denton made the choice. But Dale wasn’t moved by the noise. His journey was bigger than geography.

Still, the pressure was real. Especially now that his mother, Sharnell, had flown down from Harlem to be part of it. At first, Sharnell insisted staying at a motel, having her own private space. But Dale insisted otherwise with logic. Stay with Dale and Mark. Just for a few days, no grand scheme. She had fought it, like she always did when Mark was involved. But eventually, Dale wore her down, got her to agree to stay in the house—his house—for a few days.

Dale gave up his bed, took the couch, and played mediator between two people who hadn’t shared more than air in fifteen years. It wasn’t beef anymore, but it also wasn’t sweet. Just civil. But for Dale, it was surreal. Both parents in the same house. That alone made the week feel like something out of a time warp. The days passed quick, like a fast-forward button had been pressed. And then, just like that.

National Signing Day...

First Monday in February. Sky the color of a bruise. Wind biting like it had something to prove. The kind of cold that crept through your jacket like gossip.

By 3:00 p.m., the bell rang and the school let out, but nobody was rushing to the buses. Everyone was headed to the gymnasium. Even people who didn’t know football from foosball were showing up. It wasn’t just about the sport. It was about Dale. The bleachers were packed. Parents in the good seats. Teachers standing along the walls like security. ESPN 300 had a setup in the back with cameras, lights, and satellite gear that made the gym feel like a stage on Broadway.

Dale stood in the wings, watching. Calm on the outside. Turbulence inside. Like a duck gliding on a pond while paddling for dear life underneath. First up were the guys he’d bled with under the lights.

Emil Singer committed to Newberry College.

Amani Toles, the slickest wideout this side of the Mason-Dixon, shocked the whole gym when he picked Allen University.

Denzelle Alexander, the defensive tackle who stood at 6-foot-7 with Speedy Gonzales feet, joined him.

Dale lowkey shook his head. They were better than that. But sometimes it wasn’t about the shine—it was about fit. About family. About other stuff. After a couple of corner backs made there announcements, then it was his turn.

All eyes. All phones. All breaths being held like the whole gym was underwater.

Dale stepped forward, the noise dropping like the power had been cut. He sat at the table, three hats lined up in front of him like suspects in a lineup.

Notre Dame. Kentucky. Washington.

He rubbed his palms under the table, looking for calm. Found nothing. Looked out across the sea of faces—his mom, his pops, his boys, his classmates—and knew he had to speak from the heart.

“From the moment I came to South Carolina, I thought my high school football career was a wrap. But I learned real quick that I wasn’t alone. I had people behind me—folks I didn’t even know yet—holding me up when I ain’t even realize I was leaning.”

The crowd leaned in. You could hear a baby drop a pacifier.

“I never imagined I’d come to a town this small and find something this big. Y’all opened your arms to a kid from Harlem, and even though I was only here for a year… we did something special. Something this school hasn’t done in almost four decades. We made history.”

He looked over to Coach Kennedy, who nodded with glassy eyes.

“I wanna thank my moms and pops—y’all held me down even when I didn’t know how to hold myself up. I know I’m a pain sometimes, but y’all kept me grounded.”

Then he turned toward the bleachers. “Coach Kennedy, man… you believed in me from day one. You didn’t just coach me—you taught me how to grow. How to lead. I’ll carry that with me forever.”

He grinned and looked to his teammates. “And to my brothers—Amani, Emil, Denzelle, Deylon, DaeShaun, BoBo—you know what it is. We stamped our names in these halls. Forever.”

Then he took a breath. A long one. Fingers twitching.

“But now… it’s time to turn the page. Time to write the next chapter. And after talking with my family, my coaches, and looking at what’s best for me both on and off the field…”

He paused. The crowd leered with anticipation.

“For the next three or four years… I’ll be taking my talents to..."

Dale reached out and chose his next destination…

► Show Spoiler

Dale grabbed the Notre Dame hat, hoisting it for all to see.

“The University of Notre Dame!”

The crowd exploded. Students screamed. Faculty clapped.

His mother let out a proud, “Yesssss baby!” while Mark just smiled with that knowing look of a father who saw it all coming.

Cameras flashed. Coach Kennedy gave him a fist pump from the side. The gym buzzed like a live wire.

Dale sat back in the chair, heart racing, hat front and center, but peace washing over him.

This was it. The decision was made. And no matter where the road led him next… He knew exactly where he came from.

[Agent]

Down in South Bend. Let’s get it

[djp73]

Down in South Bend. Let’s get it

Mans dropped the spoiler tags and agent ruined it

Should be fun playing there. Lots of history in that program

[The JZA]

Down in South Bend. Let’s get it

Agent,

Mans dropped the spoiler tags and agent ruined it

Should be fun playing there. Lots of history in that program

djp73, It wouldn't be Agent if Agent didn't