The air in the Sleepy Hollow auditorium was thick with anticipation. Practice was done, pads had been stripped away, but no one had gone home.
Instead, the entire Horsemen football team had gathered, sweaty and still catching their breath, for one final moment that would shape their postseason path.
At the front of the room, the projector screen displayed a live video feed from the NYSPHSAA offices. Three coins sat on a black velvet mat, each one painted: Ardsley’s was blue, Indian River’s silver, and Sleepy Hollow’s had a bold red “SH” emblazoned across it.
Behind the coins stood a group of officials and three coaches—Indian River and Ardsley had sent their head coaches. Coach Ella had chosen to stay with his team and sent one of his assistants in his place.
Chase sat near the middle, wedged between Johnny and Miles, his knee bouncing slightly. He could feel the same electricity in the room that surged before kickoff.
“Alright, here we go,” said one of the officials on screen. “We're here to determine playoff seeding for the Class B playoffs. First flip will determine the third seed. Whichever coin lands differently from the other two gets the three seed. The two remaining teams will have a coin flipped with their names on it for the fourth seed. The other team gets the fifth seed.”
The camera zoomed in on the coins in each of the coaches' hands as an official signaled for all three team representatives to flip their team's coin.
They reached down in unison and tossed all three into the air. The room fell silent. The only sound was the clatter of metal on the mat.
The first coin, belonging to Ardsley, landed heads. Indian River's coin wobbled briefly before deciding on tails. The room collectively leaned forward as Sleepy Hollow’s coin tumbled once… twice… and after what felt like an eternity finally settled on heads.
A groan rippled through the room.
“Indian River will be the third seed,” said the official, pointing to their coach who tried unsuccessfully to hide his excitement.
“We’ll now flip to determine who gets the fourth seed and a home game between Ardsley or Sleepy Hollow.”
An assistant stepped forward with a fresh coin: one side bore a red "SH," the other a blue "A."
The tension in the auditorium mounted again.
“Here we go.”
The coin flipped skyward, spinning end over end, shimmering under the lights. The team held their collective breath. The coin bounced once, then again before slowly rolling to a stop and flopping over.
The camera zoomed in.
“A.”
There was a beat of silence.
A group exhale.
“Fuck,” someone muttered from the back.
The fifth seed. A road trip to Ardsley.
“Damn it.” Miles muttered.
“Don't matter!” Johnny exclaimed.
Chase had hoped they would get to play at home, he tried to mask his disappointment.
Coach Ella stepped forward without missing a beat.
“Alright,” he said, voice calm but firm. “Not what we hoped for, sure. But you think that changes who we are? We’ve fought for every inch all season long, and we’re not letting a damn coin flip tell us otherwise.”
He took a step closer to the front.
“Ardsley’s a good team. But so are we. We’ll tune out their crowd, and then we’ll quiet them. We’ll wear them down. They’re finesse. We’re force. Let’s see if they can handle four quarters of us.”
Johnny rose next, stumbling through the aisle and stepping in beside Coach Ella.
“They got home field,” he said, eyes locked on his teammates, “but they don’t want this smoke. We’re the team no one wants to see coming. We’re gonna go in there and remind them why. Four quarters of punishment.”
The energy shifted instantly—players on their feet, adrenaline rising like a wave. Ella took a step back and watched the surge with a grin he couldn’t hide.
“HORSEMEN ON THREE!” Johnny roared.
“One! Two! Three!”
“HORSEMEN!”
The walls of the auditorium practically shook from the echo. Shouts, slaps on shoulders, and laughter followed. But before it could turn into full blown chaos, Ella’s whistle cut through the noise.
“We’ve been working since summer,” he said, regaining command. “But the real work starts tomorrow.”
Chase felt goosebumps rising on his arms. It was happening. He was ready. Now.
“Get home. Get rested. Handle your business in school. Lock in at practice. We’re going to Ardsley. We’re going to make it our house and take what we’ve earned.”
---
The desert sun cast long shadows across the practice field as whistles blew and coaches barked out final instructions.
Practice was nearly over, but the tempo hadn't slowed. The first team offense was running a twominute drill against the starting defense.
The team ran through each play with precision. Fast, physical, focused.
Jalen stood on the sideline, helmet tucked under one arm, watching as Sam Leavitt dropped back and delivered a strike over the middle. Another completion. Another first down. Another “attaboy” from a coach.
Off to the side, Jeff and Trenton stood with the quarterbacks coach, quietly dissecting the drive. Sims pointed at something downfield, Bourguet nodded. Jalen didn’t bother joining them. He knew what was playing out.
Leavitt had missed last week's loss at Cincinnati, and for a moment, just a moment, Jalen had let himself believe the door might finally open.
But it hadn’t. Sims had started. The game had slipped away in the second half.
Jalen had stood on the sideline, arms crossed, eyes locked on the field, burning with frustration.
“I could’ve made that throw,” he’d muttered to himself after one missed deep shot.
“How do you not see him coming.” He'd said under his breath as Sims took a sack on third down. He'd shaken his head as the punt team took the field.
Now, as the starting offense celebrated a touchdown and coaches prepared to call it a day, Jalen stared across the grass, his arms folded over his chest.
Something had shifted in him over the past few days.
When he was in high school he'd wanted nothing more than to suit up for the Sun Devils and lead them to glory. This was far from what he'd imagined.
This wasn’t the dream anymore.
There had been nights he’d stared at the ceiling, playing out every scenario. Nights where he’d weighed loyalty against reality, pride against opportunity. But this morning, just before dawn, it had finally hit him with absolute clarity. He’d said it out loud in the quiet of his dorm room.
“It’s time to go.”
He repeated it, softer. “Time to go.”
He’d leaned back into his pillow and, for the first time in weeks, slept. Deep, uninterrupted sleep. No film grinding in his head. No phantom snaps in the dark. No spiraling thoughts of what could’ve been.
He slept through his alarm.
Through his first two classes.
And when he finally got up, he didn’t feel panicked. He felt free.
He hadn’t told anyone yet. Not his position coach. Not his teammates. Not even his mom. But the decision was made.
He’d finish the season here, he owed that much to the guys he still respected in the locker room, and then he’d enter the portal. Find a new home. A new system. A real chance.
He knew now what he hadn’t known when he first signed here: how to read the subtext, how to spot the half truths, how to ask the questions that matter. He wasn’t the same wide eyed kid who’d believed the pitch without reading between the lines.
This time, he’d be smarter.
This time, he’d bet on himself with eyes wide open.
The final horn sounded, and the team gathered at midfield. Jalen jogged over, a quiet smile on his face. As the coaches wrapped things up, he tilted his head back, breathing in the desert air and exhaling slow.
Fresh air.
Fresh start.
He was ready.
---
The sun dipped low over the field as Tuesday’s practice wound down, casting long shadows over the turf.
Players milled around near the sideline, recovering from a rigourous practice on an unseasonably warm day for late October.
Some chugged water as they peeled off helmets and shoulder pads.
A group stretched. Some discussed the upcoming game while other joked and talked about upcoming Halloween festivities.
Chase stood near the water cooler when he overheard Xavier, a junior linebacker, talking to a couple teammates.
“Yo, Tessa’s party Thursday is gonna be insane,” Xavier said with a grin.
“Her parents are in Italy or something. You know how it is. Kegs in the basement, shots upstairs, the whole thing. No rules.”
Chase’s stomach turned, he rubbed his chin, trying to decide if it was time to go into what some of his teammates had dubbed “Coach Pryor mode”.
He looked around and caught Connor’s eyes across the way. Connor had heard it too and was already frowning and shaking his head.
Chase walked toward the middle of the field, raising a hand.
“Hey! Bring it in real quick,” he shouted.
The players gathered, soaked in sweat and winded. Some were still joking around. Miles leaned on his helmet, still carrying on a conversation with Xavier, not hiding his disinterest.
Chase looked around, voice steady.
“Look, I know Halloween’s a big deal here. And I know there are gonna be parties, a lot of them. But we’ve got a playoff game in four days. We’ve worked too hard to throw it away doing something dumb.”
A few nods. Quiet agreement.
“This is a big week. Huge. We’re not just playing, we’re trying to prove we belong. So be smart. Don’t be the reason we don’t show up Saturday.”
Miles let out a scoff, just loud enough to be heard. Chase looked right at him.
“You got something to say?” Connor asked.
Miles shook his head but didn’t apologize. The tension was thick enough to cut.
Chase turned back to the team. “We’ve got a chance to do something special. Don’t let it slip. That’s all.”
He stepped back, ending the huddle. Players dispersed quietly, but the air carried weight.
---
The walk home from downtown had been perfect. Chill in the air, porch lights flickering, and carved pumpkins glowing like grinning ghosts.
Sophie walked close beside Chase, snuggled in close against the crisp evening air, his arm around her shoulders.
The whole town leaned heavily into Halloween with a level of commitment that still surprised him.
“I’m telling you, we didn’t do this stuff in Maine,” Chase said with a laugh. “We had a couple plastic skeletons and called it good.”
“It is Sleepy Hollow you know. You play for a team named after the Headless Horseman. You’ve been officially inducted into real Halloween.” Sophie explained.
He let out a laugh, not performative, real.
A kid in a furry green monster costume growled at them and held up his claws.
Chase pretended to jump, placing his free hand over his heart. The kid laughed and ran off.
Sophie smiled, leaning into Chase even more.
---
Sophie's apartment was heavily decorated and smelled like pumpkin spice, Chase lost count of the number of lit candles.
They handed out candy to waves of kids, Sophie joining in when the kids pressed Chase about his low effort costume which consisted of a red, white and blue shirt and a hat with an American flag on it.
One middle schooler called him a “wish.com captain America” which caused her to burst out in a fit of laughter.
Eventually, the knocks stopped, and they curled up on the couch with popcorn and a corny slasher movie playing on the TV that neither of them were paying much attention to.
Chase’s phone buzzed. He ignored it. A few seconds later another buzz, followed by a ring.
Chase sighed as he reached for it
“It's Connor.” He said, perplexed.
“You should answer, if he's calling it might be important.”
Chase nodded, swiping to answer the call.
“Hello?”
“Can you come down to Tessa’s place? Miles is hammered. We can’t get him to leave.” Connor shouted, barely pausing between words.
Chase looked at Sophie, debating what to do.
Before he could speak Connor continued.
“He’s… not good. His ex showed up with some guy and now he’s just slamming beers. Me and Johnny tried to pull him away, but he’s not hearing it. We figured if anyone can talk sense into him…”
Sophie mentioned that he should go.
“Just be careful.” She said, hugging him as he reluctantly stood to leave.
---
The music pulsed from inside Tessa’s house as Chase pulled up. Lights strobed behind the curtained windows, and red solo cups littered the porch.
Johnny met him out front, Connor close behind.
“He was fine earlier,” Johnny explained. “Wasn’t even drinking. Then his ex showed up with some guy and…” he made a drinking motion.
“We tried to talk to him, but he’s way past that now.” Connor added.
“We could drag his ass out but we were hoping not to have to.” Johnny sounded apologetic.
Chase sighed. “Alright, where's he at?”
“This way.” Connor motioned, heading for the side door.
They entered through the kitchen. The smell of spilled beer and sweat hung in the air. Miles was in the center of the room, red-faced and ranting to no one in particular.
Chase pushed his way through the crowd, avoiding an obviously drunk junior he recognized who tried to get him to follow her upstairs.
Johnny and Connor stayed close, flanking him like the secret service.
Chase walked up beside Miles, feigned a smile and laid a hand on his shoulder.
“Hey, man. Let’s bounce. You’ve had enough.”
Miles turned slowly, teeth clenched.
“Nah, I’m good.”
“We’ve got a playoff game,” Chase said, keeping his voice calm. “You’re too important to this team to throw it away for one night.”
Miles took a breath, his face twitching, beet red. “Fuck you, Chase,” he slurred. “You ain’t the coach. Not even really part of this team!”
Then, without warning, his fist lashed out, connecting with Chase’s jaw.
Chase staggered, more stunned than hurt. Johnny and Connor lunged, grabbing Miles by both arms and dragging him out the back door before anyone else could notice the blow.
Chase stood still for a beat, then followed them out.
Miles struggled against Johnny's strength.
“Let me go motherfucker!” He spat as Johnny wrestled him into the truck.
Chase rubbed his jaw and took a deep breath, trying to settle his nerves.
“You good?” Connor asked.
“I’m fine,” Chase said through clenched teeth. “Just pissed the fuck off.”
He stormed toward the Yukon, threw the door open and slammed it. He sat for a minute then fired up the engine and sped away without another word.
---
Sleepy Hollow High was buzzing.
From the moment Chase walked through the front doors Friday morning, the energy in the air was unmistakable. Sharp and electric like the charge before a storm. The hallways were louder than usual, packed with students in red and gray.
Someone had taped a hand painted banner above the main stairwell that read BEAT ARDSLEY.
Locker doors slammed open and shut to the beat of playoff anticipation, and talk of Saturday’s game drowned out nearly everything else.
“Yo, Pryor!” someone shouted as Chase passed by the cafeteria. “Run all over 'em, bro!”
A few teammates threw him daps in the hallway. Teachers nodded and smiled. Freshmen he barely knew offered him enthusiastic fist bumps. Chase returned the gestures with tight smiles and head nods, playing the part expected of him. But it was just that, an act.
Inside, his thoughts looped on a track he couldn’t escape.
Anger simmered.
Not just from the dull ache in his jaw, a quiet throb that pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat, but from everything that had happened the night before. Anger at Miles for the punch, sure, but more so for being selfish, for putting himself and the team in that situation. For being reckless.
For ruining his night.
He had called Sophie after driving around to calm down some and told her what happened.
He was overly apologetic, like what had played out was his fault.
She’d been calm, gentle even. “I’m just glad you’re okay,” she had said.
He eventually made it back to her place but the mood had soured. She held him, listening to his heart pound in is chest and feeling the tension in all his muscles. Eventually they said their goodbyes and he drove home in silence with his fists clenched around the steering wheel.
Now, the halls around him pulsed with excitement, but Chase felt removed from all of it, like a ghost gliding between lockers and water fountains. He didn’t want to see Miles. Didn’t know what he’d do if he did.
By seventh period, he still hadn’t. Maybe Miles was hiding. Maybe he was skipping.
Then, just as the final bell neared, Chase turned a corner near the science wing and spotted Miles walking toward him.
His steps were slow. His eyes downcast, then lifting toward Chase, already heavy with guilt. He looked like a kid who knew he’d crossed a line he couldn’t uncross.
“Chase...” Miles said, a lump in his throat.
Chase didn’t break stride. He raised his hand without a word, palm out, stopping him cold.
“Don’t.”
That’s all he said.
He walked past without looking back.
---
Friday’s walkthrough practice was crisp overall. Most of the team had no idea what had taken place between Chase and Miles.
It felt like it existed in a parallel universe.
The energy was high, especially for a walkthrough.
Chase was able to rise above the drama between him and Miles, doing his job with precision even when they were in close proximity.
Only the most astute observer would notice the tension, rearing it's ugly head when there was a break in the action and Johnny and Connor gravitated to Chase with Miles keeping his distance.
Coach Ella noticed but kept his observations to himself.
When practice ended, Coach Ella addressed the team, keeping things short and to the point.
“We all know what we've worked for. We were all there sweating in the summer with this goal on our minds. The opportunity is there gentlemen, let's go grab it.”
Some players hooted and hollered. Johnny stepped to the middle and put up a hand, the team followed suit.
“Horsemen on three...one, two, three!”
“HORSEMEN!”
The player's went their separate ways, most headed for the locker room while a few jogged back out on the field for a couple more reps.
Chase lingered, looking around the field.
The feeling that, most likely, he would not play another down here sat heavy.
Johnny and Connor observed from a distance, polishing off another round of Gatorade.
Miles approached Chase cautiously, glancing over at Johnny and Connor, who moved a few steps closer without saying anything.
“I just want to talk,” Miles said.
Chase didn’t even let him finish.
“Shut the fuck up and get ready for the game.”
He turned, tossed his empty cup in the trash and walked away, every step deliberate.
Behind him, Miles stood there in silence, the words never getting past his throat.
Johnny and Connor looked at Miles, then Chase and then each other.
They didn't speak.
There was nothing to be said.
Run To The Sun
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djp73
Topic author - Posts: 11551
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 13:42
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djp73
Topic author - Posts: 11551
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 13:42
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redsox907
- Posts: 3886
- Joined: 01 Jun 2025, 12:40
Run To The Sun
Coach Pryor ain't coaching no more
I predict Miles fucks up and loses the game, then Chase unloads on him in front of everyone
I predict Miles fucks up and loses the game, then Chase unloads on him in front of everyone
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djp73
Topic author - Posts: 11551
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 13:42
-
djp73
Topic author - Posts: 11551
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 13:42
Run To The Sun
The team bus rumbled into the parking lot outside Ardsley High, its engine humming a low, steady growl that did nothing to calm Chase’s nerves.
He sat near the front, earbuds in but no music playing, the playsheet for the game resting in his lap, already committed to memory.
When the bus came to a stop and the doors creaked open Chase didn't rush to get up. He sat, pretending to have one last look at the play sheet, but in reality he was trying to calm the nerves that had snuck up on him as kickoff started to draw nearer.
When the majority of his teammates had gotten off the bus he stood, took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a moment and then exhaled slowly before walking down the aisle.
The moment he stepped off, the odd blue turf of Ardsley’s field came into view and threw him for a loop.
“Yo, they serious with this blue shit?” he muttered to no one in particular while blinking in disbelief. He’d only ever seen blue turf on late night Boise State games. In person, it felt surreal, almost like walking into someone else’s dream.
In the locker room, tension buzzed beneath the usual pregame noise. Players padded around in half uniforms, taping wrists, flexing fingers, slapping shoulder pads. Chase tried to focus but his stomach was tight.
He'd played in the playoffs just last year but this was different. He was the quarterback now, the leader. His teammates looked to him.
He exchanged a few fist bumps and focused on his breathing. In one corner, Miles sat alone, lacing up slowly. Their eyes never met.
Johnny approached and nodded silently, an exchange that had become a ritual over the past few weeks that neither of them was willing to risk stopping.
“I'm not superstitious but I'm a little stitious.” Chase had quoted a couple weeks back after a win followed the nod.
By the time they took the field for warm ups Chase had started to feel more settled, his warm up routine helping to ground him.
“Just another game.” He'd repeated in his head, believing it more each time.
Johnny and Connor joined him at the 25 and they led the team through warm ups before splitting into position groups for a few last touch ups.
Chase looked up at the stands, nearly full already with more pouring in. He looked for his parents, he looked for Sophie, he looked for scouts. With the crowd so dense he was unable to pick out any of them.
“Just play your game.” Coach Ella reminded Chase when he saw him looking up into the crowd.
Chase nodded and followed Ella to the spot where the first team offense had gathered for one final walk through.
Ardsley’s offense opened the game with a few short completions, but Sleepy Hollow’s defense stood firm, forcing a three and out.
Chase watched the punt drift high against the bright blue sky and finally took a long, grounding breath.
After what had seemed like a month of build up it was finally their turn.
In the huddle, the tension between him and Miles was obvious. Neither said anything, but the silence was heavy.
“Pistol right. 27 toss,” Chase called clearly, breaking the air.
They broke the huddle. Chase popped his mouthpiece in, walked to his position and studied the defenses alignment.
He liked the look as Ardsley had over committed to the tight end side. It should be a perfect setup.
He clapped. The ball came back cleanly. Chase caught it, pivoted, and tossed the ball… to air.
Miles wasn’t there.
A half second of disbelief flashed through Chase’s brain before he dove toward the rolling football, but an Ardsley linebacker pounced first, falling on it in the end zone.
Touchdown.
Ardsley’s sideline erupted.
Chase ripped off his helmet as he jogged to the sideline, eyes locked on Miles, who was walking back slowly, head down.
Chase clenched his fists, jaw pulsing, ears burning.
He wanted to tear into Miles, shove him, make sure he and everyone else knew he messed up.
He set his helmet on the bench and started stomping his way toward Miles but a flashback of one of his conversations with Robert stopped him.
Chase paused, thinking of a way to address the error that was more becoming of a quarterback, of a true leader.
That split second was all it took for Connor to explode.
“What was the play call?” he barked at Miles.
Miles blinked. “28 toss.”
“Are you serious?” Connor shouted, rage thick in his voice.
“It was 27 toss! You were supposed to go left! If you weren’t out fucking around all week, maybe you’d have your head in the game!”
Before it could escalate further, Chase stepped between them. Johnny right next to him, hand steady on Connor's chest.
“Enough,” Chase snapped. “We don’t have time for this. We clean it up, and we keep playing. Got it?”
He turned directly to Miles. “Lock the fuck in.” He echoed Miles' words to him from a few weeks ago.
Miles didn’t reply. He just nodded, jaw tight, and put his helmet back on.
Coach Ella watched the whole exchange from a distance, then finally stepped in.
“Everybody breathe,” he said calmly. “You made a mistake. It’s done. It's over. Now focus and execute. The only thing that matters now is the next play.”
On the next series, Sleepy Hollow’s defense forced another punt.
The offense huddled together at the 20. This time, Chase could feel the unity reforming. The energy was still raw, but it was shifting.
“The defense picked us up. Now we gotta do our part. All of us.” He said, looking at each of his ten teammates as he said it.
The drive that followed was pure grit and determination.
Chase, Miles, and Zeke took turns pounding the Ardsley defense.
Johnny and Connor paved the way, and the entire line fired off the ball like they had something to prove. Play after play, they chewed up yards, bled the clock, and wore down the blue turf. On the seventeenth play, fullback Ty Lambo took a handoff and dragged half of Ardsley’s defense into the end zone.
The extra point tied the game at 7–7.
Ardsley answered just before the half with a 40 yard field goal, sending the teams to the locker room with Sleepy Hollow trailing 10–7.
The team gathered in the cramped locker room and collectively took a knee, looking toward their coaching staff in silence.
Coach Ella kept it short.
“Remember what’s at stake. We need to stay focused. We need to execute. Defense, great half. Let's keep that up. Offense, one mistake followed by a great drive. Let's get back out there and execute and keep imposing our will.”
He turned to the ancient chalk board behind him and scxrawled the work “EXECUTE” in large, capital letters then underlined it twice.
Ella motioned to two of his assistants and led them to the back of the locker room.
Chase stood, then stepped forward. He grabbed the front of his collar with both hands and cleared his throat.
“I’m proud of how far we’ve come. Nobody thought we’d be here. And if we’re going further, it’s going to be together. All of us.”
He glanced at Miles, whose head was low. Then, surprising everyone, Miles stood.
“I messed up,” he said quietly. He walked slowly over to Chase, eyes full of remorse.
“I’m sorry, man.”
He held out his hand.
Chase stared for a second, then took it and pulled Miles into a quick embrace.
Johnny grinned. “Y’all can hug after the win.”
He clapped his hands loudly. “Bring it in!”
They counted down in unison: “One, two, three, HORSEMEN!” The sound echoed through the walls. Chase felt it in his chest.
---
The second half belonged to Sleepy Hollow.
Their first drive picked up where they left off in the first half.
Miles ran angry, eager for redemption.
Zeke pounded through the middle, picking up small chunks but punishing defenders on every tackle.
Connor and Johnny consistently buried defensive linesmen.
Even the receivers were dominant, causing Ardsley's defensive backs to brace for impact with no intention of pursuing the ball carriers.
Chase left defenders grasping at and gasping for air.
The drive stalled inside the 20, but Ardsley’s defense was visibly spent, unable to catch their breath as Sleepy Hollow had seized all momentum and had them wishing they'd taken up another sport.
Sleepy Hollow's defense continued the dominance, forcing Ardsley to give the ball back before their worn down defenders ever had a chance to rest.
It was more of the same as the Horsemen marched down the blue turf.
On third down inside the red zone, the call came in: pistol right 27 toss.
Chase repeated it confidently.
Connor lightly tapped Miles on the chest. “You got this one.”
Miles nodded. “Let’s get it.”
At the line, the defense stacked the tight end side, where Sleepy Hollow had run all day. Chase smiled. He clapped.
The snap from Wyatt was perfect.
The pivot, the toss, it all flowed like clockwork. Hundreds of repetitions over the past several months had all eleven players playing their parts like they were born to do it.
The blocking was flawless.
Miles caught the toss in stride, hesitated once, causing a linebacker to take half a step inside.
That was all he needed.
He exploded around the edge, blue turf blurred beneath him.
Nineteen yards. Touchdown.
Chase, Johnny, Connor and the rest of the team swarmed him in the endzone, all prior transgressions and mistakes forgotten in an instant.
The extra point split the uprights and gave them a 14–10 lead.
Ardsley’s offense folded again under the weight of Sleepy Hollow’s swarming front seven.
Runs were stuffed at the line.
Pass attempts were met with almost instantaneous pressure.
On third down Connor bowled over an undersized backup guard and buried the quarterback who mishandled the snap before he'd even fully secured the ball.
The punt was short.
Chase took the offense back on the field and they kept the pressure on.
He and Miles swapped carries.
The offensive line mauled defenders.
On 2nd and goal from the 2, Chase kept an option read and walked into the end zone. 21–10.
Ardsley tried to respond, but the Horsemen weren’t giving an inch.
A sack, a short run, and a batted pass left them staring at 4th and long.
Out of options and time the Ardsley offense remained on the field.
The quarterback took the snap and hurried a prayer of a throw.
Zeke, now rotating at linebacker, wisely leapt and batted it down like a volleyball player at the net.
“Smart play!” Chase shouted to him as he donned his helmet.
Turnover on downs.
Two plays later, Chase kept again, this time bouncing to the outside and accelerating down the left sideline. Thirty nine yards. Touchdown.
The score was 28–10 and the stands behind the Sleepy Hollow bench were shaking while Ardsley's fans began to head for the parking lot.
The players tried to sneak a Gatorade bath for Coach Ella, but he ducked and avoided it with a wry grin, redirecting the spillage back toward them.
He walked slowly up and down the sideline as the seconds ticked down, his hands in his jacket pocket, eyes gleaming.
He thought about the preseason. About the job rumors. The whispers.
You belong here, he told himself. And for once, he believed it.
He pictured Walt siting at home, battling happiness and anger.
He smiled.
The clock struck zero and after a tense handshake line the Horsemen exploded in celebration, eventually making their way to the locker room.
---
The locker room buzzed.
Players yelled and chanted in celebration.
Music blared too loudly from a low quality speaker.
Shoulder pads clattered.
There was laughter and celebration.
After a while Coach Ella made his way to the middle of the locker room and held up a hand.
He extended his index finger in silence and waited for the players to acknowledge his presence.
After a portion of them had and the noise quieted slightly he spoke.
“One playoff win. That’s it.”
The room quieted.
“I'm proud of you all. Nobody outside of our program expected this. Be proud of where our hard work has gotten us but know that we’re not done yet. We rest tomorrow. But Monday, we go right back to work.”
“YES, COACH!” the team roared and clapped.
“On the bus in twenty.” An assistant coach barked before following Coach Ella out of the locker room.
---
Chase stepped out of the dark locker room into the setting sun of the November afternoon.
Outside players slowly trickled toward the buses. Some paused to talk to parents or friends that had traveled to the game.
Chase looked around, trying to locate his people. Johnny patted his shoulder on his way by.
“Good shit Pryor.” He said with a nod.
“You too man.” Chase replied.
“There’s our guy.”
He turned to see his parents approaching. His dad sporting a Sleepy Hollow hoodie and his mom with a heavy coat and a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. His mom pulled him into a tight hug first.
“You were incredible out there,” she said, her voice still hoarse from cheering.
His dad clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Proud of you, son. That was one hell of a game.”
Chase smiled, the tension in his chest easing just a little. “Thanks. Tough start but then it felt like we found our rhythm.”
“You looked like a leader out there,” his dad said. “Not just a runner. A quarterback.”
Chase smirked. “Yeah one completion for what, seven yards?”
“They called it eight I think.” His dad replied with a grin.
“You guys all played so well together.” His mom said with a big smile that reached her eyes.
Chase nodded, taking that in. “We’ve come a long way.”
“We’re proud of you,” his mom added, eyes shining. “No matter what happens next.”
Before he could respond, he caught movement in the corner of his eye.
Sophie hovered a few feet away, hands stuffed into her coat pockets, giving them space. She offered a smile when their eyes met.
His mom noticed too and smiled knowingly. “We’ll let you go celebrate.”
Sophie gave Chase's mom a small wave as they crossed paths.
“You did it,” she said, wrapping her arms around his waist.
He smiled and pulled her close. “We did it.”
She kissed him softly.
“Excuse me,” a voice said nearby.
They turned.
A man stood nearby in a Colgate jacket and slacks, with a laminated credential still dangling from his lanyard.
“Chase Pryor?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m Dan Stephenson, with Colgate. You’ve probably been hearing from a few schools?”
Chase nodded, trying to sound casual. “A few, yeah.”
“Well,” the recruiter continued, pulling a card from his coat pocket, “we’d love to be on your radar. Take your time. Finish your season. But we’re definitely interested.”
He handed over the card with a firm handshake. “Good luck next week.”
And just like that, he disappeared into the crowd.
Chase looked at the card in his hand. Sophie leaned in, peering over his shoulder, visibly excited.
Chase exhaled.
“You okay?” she asked.
He nodded slowly, unsure if he believed it. “Yeah. I think so.”
“Pryor! On the bus!” An assistant coach yelled from the steps, visibly frustrated as he looked at his watch.
Sophie's eyes lit up with faux sympathy as she made the face: brows up, lips pulled into a grin that barely hid her amusement.
She kissed his cheek before heading toward the parking lot.
Chase exhaled, watching her walk away, then turned and stepped onto the bus, his mind swirling with possibility.
---
The sun had dipped below the trees hours ago, and the sidewalks of Sleepy Hollow were lit only by the dim orange glow of old fashioned streetlamps and Halloween decorations that the majority of houses still had up and illuminated.
Most of the town was already asleep or huddled indoors against the creeping chill.
But Chase and Sophie weren’t most people.
They walked side by side, wrapped in quiet. Sophie had layered up, a vintage looking red scarf, knit hat, and a long coat that buttoned to her chin.
Chase wore a Sleepy Hollow football hoodie, the logo cracked slightly on the chest, and joggers that swished lightly with each step.
“Sorry I dragged you out in the cold.” He said, putting his arm around her and pulling her in close.
“Don't be sorry.” She answered. “This is nice. Quiet. Just us.”
They hadn’t picked a destination. That wasn’t the point. After practice, Chase had sent a simple text: You wanna go for a walk?
He hadn’t said much more, because there wasn’t much more to say. He didn't have a plan. He didn’t want a plan. He hadn’t said what was on his mind, maybe because he didn’t really know. He just didn’t want to be alone while thinking through it.
They wandered past shuttered shops and quiet porches, turning corners without thought. The walk wasn’t about getting anywhere.
The sound of their sneakers against the pavement blended with the whisper of wind through barren trees. Every so often, Chase glanced up at the skeletal branches, like arms reaching into nothing.
Sophie reached her hand up to his on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze, knowing his mind was racing without him saying a word.
He squeezed back, and for a moment his swirling anxiety drifted away.
For a moment he was truly at peace.
Then his phone buzzed.
He hesitated, thinking he would save it for later, but his curiosity got the better of him and he reached into his pocket and pulled it out.
He was expecting a message in the group text or maybe his mom or dad checking in.
When he tapped the screen the words made his relaxed expression shift almost imperceptibly toward one closer to agitation.
Sophie caught it.
“What is it?” she asked.
Chase hesitated, then angled the screen toward her briefly. “Looks like another recruiter.”
She slowed her steps slightly. “You’re not going to read it? Or reply?”
Chase slid the phone back into his pocket and stared ahead.
He exhaled through pursed lips.
“I’ve gotten a bunch of messages from them since Saturday.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?”
“Yeah…” he trailed off, letting the word hang between them like fog.
Sophie waited.
“It’s just a bit overwhelming, honestly,” he finally admitted.
Sophie didn’t say anything. She just listened.
“I never really thought I’d be recruited. Not seriously. And now it’s like everyone’s suddenly watching. Reaching out. Asking questions I don’t have answers to yet. Where do I want to go? What do I want to be? It’s a lot. Feels like I have to decide my future in the blink of an eye. I hardly ever decide anything unless it's to keep or hand it off.”
As they turned a corner onto a darker street Sophie slipped in front of him an put her hand on his chest to stop him.
She held both his hands and looked him in the eyes. She didn't speak for a beat, just looked at him.
“You have time. You don't have to commit anywhere early if you're not ready.”
Chase nodded, visibly relaxing.
“Finish the season. Tell them that's what you're focused on. When it's over take some visits. Meet some coaches. Enjoy the process.”
“I know. It's just...” He trailed off.
Sophie didn't press, she just squeezed his hands and pulled herself closer to him.
“It's just hard to think about leaving here now. I feel like this is just feeling like home and I don't want it to end already.”
“Nothing has to end.” She said as she wrapped his arms around her and pressed her lips to his.
It wasn't a flowery, emotional speech but it was just what he needed to hear.
He looked at her for a long time. Then he smiled, not a big smile, but the kind that said thank you and I needed that all at once.
Sophie shivered.
“Can we go home, it's really fucking cold out here.” She said, faking a shiver.
They started walking again, hand in hand, as the wind kicked up again. Chase still didn’t have the answers.
But for now, he wasn’t walking alone.
He sat near the front, earbuds in but no music playing, the playsheet for the game resting in his lap, already committed to memory.
When the bus came to a stop and the doors creaked open Chase didn't rush to get up. He sat, pretending to have one last look at the play sheet, but in reality he was trying to calm the nerves that had snuck up on him as kickoff started to draw nearer.
When the majority of his teammates had gotten off the bus he stood, took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a moment and then exhaled slowly before walking down the aisle.
The moment he stepped off, the odd blue turf of Ardsley’s field came into view and threw him for a loop.
“Yo, they serious with this blue shit?” he muttered to no one in particular while blinking in disbelief. He’d only ever seen blue turf on late night Boise State games. In person, it felt surreal, almost like walking into someone else’s dream.
In the locker room, tension buzzed beneath the usual pregame noise. Players padded around in half uniforms, taping wrists, flexing fingers, slapping shoulder pads. Chase tried to focus but his stomach was tight.
He'd played in the playoffs just last year but this was different. He was the quarterback now, the leader. His teammates looked to him.
He exchanged a few fist bumps and focused on his breathing. In one corner, Miles sat alone, lacing up slowly. Their eyes never met.
Johnny approached and nodded silently, an exchange that had become a ritual over the past few weeks that neither of them was willing to risk stopping.
“I'm not superstitious but I'm a little stitious.” Chase had quoted a couple weeks back after a win followed the nod.
By the time they took the field for warm ups Chase had started to feel more settled, his warm up routine helping to ground him.
“Just another game.” He'd repeated in his head, believing it more each time.
Johnny and Connor joined him at the 25 and they led the team through warm ups before splitting into position groups for a few last touch ups.
Chase looked up at the stands, nearly full already with more pouring in. He looked for his parents, he looked for Sophie, he looked for scouts. With the crowd so dense he was unable to pick out any of them.
“Just play your game.” Coach Ella reminded Chase when he saw him looking up into the crowd.
Chase nodded and followed Ella to the spot where the first team offense had gathered for one final walk through.
Ardsley’s offense opened the game with a few short completions, but Sleepy Hollow’s defense stood firm, forcing a three and out.
Chase watched the punt drift high against the bright blue sky and finally took a long, grounding breath.
After what had seemed like a month of build up it was finally their turn.
In the huddle, the tension between him and Miles was obvious. Neither said anything, but the silence was heavy.
“Pistol right. 27 toss,” Chase called clearly, breaking the air.
They broke the huddle. Chase popped his mouthpiece in, walked to his position and studied the defenses alignment.
He liked the look as Ardsley had over committed to the tight end side. It should be a perfect setup.
He clapped. The ball came back cleanly. Chase caught it, pivoted, and tossed the ball… to air.
Miles wasn’t there.
A half second of disbelief flashed through Chase’s brain before he dove toward the rolling football, but an Ardsley linebacker pounced first, falling on it in the end zone.
Touchdown.
Ardsley’s sideline erupted.
Chase ripped off his helmet as he jogged to the sideline, eyes locked on Miles, who was walking back slowly, head down.
Chase clenched his fists, jaw pulsing, ears burning.
He wanted to tear into Miles, shove him, make sure he and everyone else knew he messed up.
He set his helmet on the bench and started stomping his way toward Miles but a flashback of one of his conversations with Robert stopped him.
Chase paused, thinking of a way to address the error that was more becoming of a quarterback, of a true leader.
That split second was all it took for Connor to explode.
“What was the play call?” he barked at Miles.
Miles blinked. “28 toss.”
“Are you serious?” Connor shouted, rage thick in his voice.
“It was 27 toss! You were supposed to go left! If you weren’t out fucking around all week, maybe you’d have your head in the game!”
Before it could escalate further, Chase stepped between them. Johnny right next to him, hand steady on Connor's chest.
“Enough,” Chase snapped. “We don’t have time for this. We clean it up, and we keep playing. Got it?”
He turned directly to Miles. “Lock the fuck in.” He echoed Miles' words to him from a few weeks ago.
Miles didn’t reply. He just nodded, jaw tight, and put his helmet back on.
Coach Ella watched the whole exchange from a distance, then finally stepped in.
“Everybody breathe,” he said calmly. “You made a mistake. It’s done. It's over. Now focus and execute. The only thing that matters now is the next play.”
On the next series, Sleepy Hollow’s defense forced another punt.
The offense huddled together at the 20. This time, Chase could feel the unity reforming. The energy was still raw, but it was shifting.
“The defense picked us up. Now we gotta do our part. All of us.” He said, looking at each of his ten teammates as he said it.
The drive that followed was pure grit and determination.
Chase, Miles, and Zeke took turns pounding the Ardsley defense.
Johnny and Connor paved the way, and the entire line fired off the ball like they had something to prove. Play after play, they chewed up yards, bled the clock, and wore down the blue turf. On the seventeenth play, fullback Ty Lambo took a handoff and dragged half of Ardsley’s defense into the end zone.
The extra point tied the game at 7–7.
Ardsley answered just before the half with a 40 yard field goal, sending the teams to the locker room with Sleepy Hollow trailing 10–7.
The team gathered in the cramped locker room and collectively took a knee, looking toward their coaching staff in silence.
Coach Ella kept it short.
“Remember what’s at stake. We need to stay focused. We need to execute. Defense, great half. Let's keep that up. Offense, one mistake followed by a great drive. Let's get back out there and execute and keep imposing our will.”
He turned to the ancient chalk board behind him and scxrawled the work “EXECUTE” in large, capital letters then underlined it twice.
Ella motioned to two of his assistants and led them to the back of the locker room.
Chase stood, then stepped forward. He grabbed the front of his collar with both hands and cleared his throat.
“I’m proud of how far we’ve come. Nobody thought we’d be here. And if we’re going further, it’s going to be together. All of us.”
He glanced at Miles, whose head was low. Then, surprising everyone, Miles stood.
“I messed up,” he said quietly. He walked slowly over to Chase, eyes full of remorse.
“I’m sorry, man.”
He held out his hand.
Chase stared for a second, then took it and pulled Miles into a quick embrace.
Johnny grinned. “Y’all can hug after the win.”
He clapped his hands loudly. “Bring it in!”
They counted down in unison: “One, two, three, HORSEMEN!” The sound echoed through the walls. Chase felt it in his chest.
---
The second half belonged to Sleepy Hollow.
Their first drive picked up where they left off in the first half.
Miles ran angry, eager for redemption.
Zeke pounded through the middle, picking up small chunks but punishing defenders on every tackle.
Connor and Johnny consistently buried defensive linesmen.
Even the receivers were dominant, causing Ardsley's defensive backs to brace for impact with no intention of pursuing the ball carriers.
Chase left defenders grasping at and gasping for air.
The drive stalled inside the 20, but Ardsley’s defense was visibly spent, unable to catch their breath as Sleepy Hollow had seized all momentum and had them wishing they'd taken up another sport.
Sleepy Hollow's defense continued the dominance, forcing Ardsley to give the ball back before their worn down defenders ever had a chance to rest.
It was more of the same as the Horsemen marched down the blue turf.
On third down inside the red zone, the call came in: pistol right 27 toss.
Chase repeated it confidently.
Connor lightly tapped Miles on the chest. “You got this one.”
Miles nodded. “Let’s get it.”
At the line, the defense stacked the tight end side, where Sleepy Hollow had run all day. Chase smiled. He clapped.
The snap from Wyatt was perfect.
The pivot, the toss, it all flowed like clockwork. Hundreds of repetitions over the past several months had all eleven players playing their parts like they were born to do it.
The blocking was flawless.
Miles caught the toss in stride, hesitated once, causing a linebacker to take half a step inside.
That was all he needed.
He exploded around the edge, blue turf blurred beneath him.
Nineteen yards. Touchdown.
Chase, Johnny, Connor and the rest of the team swarmed him in the endzone, all prior transgressions and mistakes forgotten in an instant.
The extra point split the uprights and gave them a 14–10 lead.
Ardsley’s offense folded again under the weight of Sleepy Hollow’s swarming front seven.
Runs were stuffed at the line.
Pass attempts were met with almost instantaneous pressure.
On third down Connor bowled over an undersized backup guard and buried the quarterback who mishandled the snap before he'd even fully secured the ball.
The punt was short.
Chase took the offense back on the field and they kept the pressure on.
He and Miles swapped carries.
The offensive line mauled defenders.
On 2nd and goal from the 2, Chase kept an option read and walked into the end zone. 21–10.
Ardsley tried to respond, but the Horsemen weren’t giving an inch.
A sack, a short run, and a batted pass left them staring at 4th and long.
Out of options and time the Ardsley offense remained on the field.
The quarterback took the snap and hurried a prayer of a throw.
Zeke, now rotating at linebacker, wisely leapt and batted it down like a volleyball player at the net.
“Smart play!” Chase shouted to him as he donned his helmet.
Turnover on downs.
Two plays later, Chase kept again, this time bouncing to the outside and accelerating down the left sideline. Thirty nine yards. Touchdown.
The score was 28–10 and the stands behind the Sleepy Hollow bench were shaking while Ardsley's fans began to head for the parking lot.
The players tried to sneak a Gatorade bath for Coach Ella, but he ducked and avoided it with a wry grin, redirecting the spillage back toward them.
He walked slowly up and down the sideline as the seconds ticked down, his hands in his jacket pocket, eyes gleaming.
He thought about the preseason. About the job rumors. The whispers.
You belong here, he told himself. And for once, he believed it.
He pictured Walt siting at home, battling happiness and anger.
He smiled.
The clock struck zero and after a tense handshake line the Horsemen exploded in celebration, eventually making their way to the locker room.
---
The locker room buzzed.
Players yelled and chanted in celebration.
Music blared too loudly from a low quality speaker.
Shoulder pads clattered.
There was laughter and celebration.
After a while Coach Ella made his way to the middle of the locker room and held up a hand.
He extended his index finger in silence and waited for the players to acknowledge his presence.
After a portion of them had and the noise quieted slightly he spoke.
“One playoff win. That’s it.”
The room quieted.
“I'm proud of you all. Nobody outside of our program expected this. Be proud of where our hard work has gotten us but know that we’re not done yet. We rest tomorrow. But Monday, we go right back to work.”
“YES, COACH!” the team roared and clapped.
“On the bus in twenty.” An assistant coach barked before following Coach Ella out of the locker room.
---
Chase stepped out of the dark locker room into the setting sun of the November afternoon.
Outside players slowly trickled toward the buses. Some paused to talk to parents or friends that had traveled to the game.
Chase looked around, trying to locate his people. Johnny patted his shoulder on his way by.
“Good shit Pryor.” He said with a nod.
“You too man.” Chase replied.
“There’s our guy.”
He turned to see his parents approaching. His dad sporting a Sleepy Hollow hoodie and his mom with a heavy coat and a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. His mom pulled him into a tight hug first.
“You were incredible out there,” she said, her voice still hoarse from cheering.
His dad clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Proud of you, son. That was one hell of a game.”
Chase smiled, the tension in his chest easing just a little. “Thanks. Tough start but then it felt like we found our rhythm.”
“You looked like a leader out there,” his dad said. “Not just a runner. A quarterback.”
Chase smirked. “Yeah one completion for what, seven yards?”
“They called it eight I think.” His dad replied with a grin.
“You guys all played so well together.” His mom said with a big smile that reached her eyes.
Chase nodded, taking that in. “We’ve come a long way.”
“We’re proud of you,” his mom added, eyes shining. “No matter what happens next.”
Before he could respond, he caught movement in the corner of his eye.
Sophie hovered a few feet away, hands stuffed into her coat pockets, giving them space. She offered a smile when their eyes met.
His mom noticed too and smiled knowingly. “We’ll let you go celebrate.”
Sophie gave Chase's mom a small wave as they crossed paths.
“You did it,” she said, wrapping her arms around his waist.
He smiled and pulled her close. “We did it.”
She kissed him softly.
“Excuse me,” a voice said nearby.
They turned.
A man stood nearby in a Colgate jacket and slacks, with a laminated credential still dangling from his lanyard.
“Chase Pryor?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m Dan Stephenson, with Colgate. You’ve probably been hearing from a few schools?”
Chase nodded, trying to sound casual. “A few, yeah.”
“Well,” the recruiter continued, pulling a card from his coat pocket, “we’d love to be on your radar. Take your time. Finish your season. But we’re definitely interested.”
He handed over the card with a firm handshake. “Good luck next week.”
And just like that, he disappeared into the crowd.
Chase looked at the card in his hand. Sophie leaned in, peering over his shoulder, visibly excited.
Chase exhaled.
“You okay?” she asked.
He nodded slowly, unsure if he believed it. “Yeah. I think so.”
“Pryor! On the bus!” An assistant coach yelled from the steps, visibly frustrated as he looked at his watch.
Sophie's eyes lit up with faux sympathy as she made the face: brows up, lips pulled into a grin that barely hid her amusement.
She kissed his cheek before heading toward the parking lot.
Chase exhaled, watching her walk away, then turned and stepped onto the bus, his mind swirling with possibility.
---
The sun had dipped below the trees hours ago, and the sidewalks of Sleepy Hollow were lit only by the dim orange glow of old fashioned streetlamps and Halloween decorations that the majority of houses still had up and illuminated.
Most of the town was already asleep or huddled indoors against the creeping chill.
But Chase and Sophie weren’t most people.
They walked side by side, wrapped in quiet. Sophie had layered up, a vintage looking red scarf, knit hat, and a long coat that buttoned to her chin.
Chase wore a Sleepy Hollow football hoodie, the logo cracked slightly on the chest, and joggers that swished lightly with each step.
“Sorry I dragged you out in the cold.” He said, putting his arm around her and pulling her in close.
“Don't be sorry.” She answered. “This is nice. Quiet. Just us.”
They hadn’t picked a destination. That wasn’t the point. After practice, Chase had sent a simple text: You wanna go for a walk?
He hadn’t said much more, because there wasn’t much more to say. He didn't have a plan. He didn’t want a plan. He hadn’t said what was on his mind, maybe because he didn’t really know. He just didn’t want to be alone while thinking through it.
They wandered past shuttered shops and quiet porches, turning corners without thought. The walk wasn’t about getting anywhere.
The sound of their sneakers against the pavement blended with the whisper of wind through barren trees. Every so often, Chase glanced up at the skeletal branches, like arms reaching into nothing.
Sophie reached her hand up to his on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze, knowing his mind was racing without him saying a word.
He squeezed back, and for a moment his swirling anxiety drifted away.
For a moment he was truly at peace.
Then his phone buzzed.
He hesitated, thinking he would save it for later, but his curiosity got the better of him and he reached into his pocket and pulled it out.
He was expecting a message in the group text or maybe his mom or dad checking in.
When he tapped the screen the words made his relaxed expression shift almost imperceptibly toward one closer to agitation.
Sophie caught it.
“What is it?” she asked.
Chase hesitated, then angled the screen toward her briefly. “Looks like another recruiter.”
She slowed her steps slightly. “You’re not going to read it? Or reply?”
Chase slid the phone back into his pocket and stared ahead.
He exhaled through pursed lips.
“I’ve gotten a bunch of messages from them since Saturday.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?”
“Yeah…” he trailed off, letting the word hang between them like fog.
Sophie waited.
“It’s just a bit overwhelming, honestly,” he finally admitted.
Sophie didn’t say anything. She just listened.
“I never really thought I’d be recruited. Not seriously. And now it’s like everyone’s suddenly watching. Reaching out. Asking questions I don’t have answers to yet. Where do I want to go? What do I want to be? It’s a lot. Feels like I have to decide my future in the blink of an eye. I hardly ever decide anything unless it's to keep or hand it off.”
As they turned a corner onto a darker street Sophie slipped in front of him an put her hand on his chest to stop him.
She held both his hands and looked him in the eyes. She didn't speak for a beat, just looked at him.
“You have time. You don't have to commit anywhere early if you're not ready.”
Chase nodded, visibly relaxing.
“Finish the season. Tell them that's what you're focused on. When it's over take some visits. Meet some coaches. Enjoy the process.”
“I know. It's just...” He trailed off.
Sophie didn't press, she just squeezed his hands and pulled herself closer to him.
“It's just hard to think about leaving here now. I feel like this is just feeling like home and I don't want it to end already.”
“Nothing has to end.” She said as she wrapped his arms around her and pressed her lips to his.
It wasn't a flowery, emotional speech but it was just what he needed to hear.
He looked at her for a long time. Then he smiled, not a big smile, but the kind that said thank you and I needed that all at once.
Sophie shivered.
“Can we go home, it's really fucking cold out here.” She said, faking a shiver.
They started walking again, hand in hand, as the wind kicked up again. Chase still didn’t have the answers.
But for now, he wasn’t walking alone.
-
djp73
Topic author - Posts: 11551
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 13:42
Run To The Sun
Chase Pryor runs for a 39 yard score in the fourth quarter of Sleepy Hollow's win at Ardsley
Sleepy Hollow Upsets Ardsley In First Round Playoff Bout
ARDSLEY —One year after finishing with their first losing season in two decades the Sleepy Hollow football team has bounced back with authority.
Buoyed by Coach Robert Ella's service academy inspired option offense and the three headed backfield monster of Chase Pryor, Miles Cunningham and Zeke Tamm the Horsemen were able to secure their first playoff win in several years by traveling to Ardsley and taking down a team that many thought had a shot at going the distance.
Sleepy Hollow's grit proved to be too much against Ardsley's finesse and usually explosive offense.
After a disastrous miscommunication on Sleepy Hollow's first offensive play led to an Ardsley defender recovering a fumble in the endzone for a touchdown the Horsemen would go on to outscore Ardsley 28-3 for the rest of the game and secure a 28-10 win on Ardley's iconic blue turf.
With Ardsley up 7-0 the Sleepy Hollow defense dug in again and forced a second punt.
Sleepy Hollow would put together a grinding drive chewing up yards and minutes behind their road grading offensive line.
Fullback Ty Lambo dragged what seemed like half of Ardsley's defense into the endzone with him to cap the drive and tie the game.
Ardsley's Calvin Eason would put them back on top before halftime with a 40 yard field goal as the first half ended.
That would be Ardsley's last trip into Sleepy Hollow territory.
Sleepy Hollow opened the second half with another long, time consuming drive. On fourth down Ardsley mustered enough strength to stop them and force a turnover in th red zone but the damage was irreversible.
Ardsley punted the ball back so quickly that half of their defense still had hands on knees when they had to go back and try to stop the Horsemen offense.
Miles Cunningham, who admitted to running the wrong way on the opening drive turnover, ran for a 19 yard touchdown that put Sleepy Hollow up 14-10 midway through the third quarter.
Connor Winston blew up the Ardsley offensive line and sacked Ardsley QB Ezekiel Barnes before he even secured the snap on a third down.
A short punt set up Sleepy Hollow in a good position and another long drive ended with Chase Pryor in the endzone.
Zeke Tamm, forced into linebacker duty due to injuries, knocked down a key fourth down pass to set up Pryor for a 39 yard touchdown run late in the fourth quarter which put the game out of reach for good.
Pryor ran for 202 yards and scored twice in the fourth quarter to put the game on ice.
Cunningham went for 118 yards and a score.
The Ardsley offense was completely shut down by the Horsemen defense, only managing to put a field goal on the board.
“There weren't a lot of folks outside our program that thought we would be in the playoffs and certainly not winning a playoff game on the road here.” Coach Ella said.
“We've been busting our butts since August to be here and we're all very proud of what we have accomplished. We're not done yet though.”
Sleepy Hollow will travel to face top seed Port Jervis next Saturday.
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redsox907
- Posts: 3886
- Joined: 01 Jun 2025, 12:40
Run To The Sun
Chase ain’t built like that. Getting flustered about Colgate. Couldn’t call out Miles when it was needed.
He’s gonna have to put some bass in his voice here soon!
SN - good win lol looking like hollow is gonna win state
He’s gonna have to put some bass in his voice here soon!
SN - good win lol looking like hollow is gonna win state
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The JZA
- Posts: 9078
- Joined: 07 Dec 2018, 13:10
Run To The Sun
First round win, we move 
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djp73
Topic author - Posts: 11551
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 13:42
Run To The Sun
By the time the team took the field for practice the chill in the Hudson Valley had settled in for good and the sun had already begun it's descent.
The wind off the river cut just enough to make you zip your jacket when you weren’t moving.
The team's student assistants were dressed in layers, some even wore knit caps, but on the field, the players ran in light layers, steam rising from their breath in thin wisps.
From the moment Chase jogged out of the locker room and onto the turf, he could feel the difference. It wasn’t just another week. This was it, the lead-up to the Class B semifinals, the biggest game most of these guys had ever played.
The chatter was different, sharper, clipped. Even the jokes during stretching had an edge, like everyone knew they were only there to burn off the nerves.
Getting their first playoff win had been huge. They’d savored it Saturday night and into Sunday, but by Monday morning, it was already in the rearview.
Now, they all wanted more.
“Job's not done!” They had all starting shouting during warm ups.
Coach Ella had them in shells, moving fast, every period trimmed down to sharpen execution.
The details mattered more now than ever.
The triple option, drilled since August, clicked with a smoothness that had taken months to build. Chase’s reads were clean, his footwork crisp. Miles hit the holes like he had a personal vendetta against the defense, lowering his shoulders on every finish despite the lack of contact.
When the first team rotated out, Chase jogged toward Miles, who was standing with his helmet tucked under his arm, focused intently and shouting pointers to the second team runningbacks.
“Hey,” Chase said, resting his hand on Miles’ shoulder. “We’ve been through it this year. Let’s finish this right.”
Miles grinned, that rare, easy grin that didn’t hide behind sarcasm. “Yeah. Let’s make ’em regret they ever saw us in the bracket.”
They bumped fists. Neither mentioned the early-season friction, the fight at the Halloween party, or the moments when they couldn’t stand each other. None of it mattered now. Not with Port Jervis waiting and a shot at the title game hanging in the balance.
The two stood next to each other in silence, watching their understudies run through a half dozen plays, the coaching staff working to polish them in case the unmentionable happened.
Jace, one of the backup quarterbacks, mishandled a ride with a runningback and put the ball on the ground.
Coach Ella tried, and failed, to hide his frustration.
“First offense!” Coach Ella shouted. “You're up!”
Miles bumped Chase on the chest and popped his helmet back on.
“Job's not done!” He shouted as he jogged to the huddle.
“Job's not done!” Half the team parroted.
Three plays in and the energy they'd all worked so hard to keep up was sucked out of the entire team in the blink of an eye.
Zeke, the reliable back who’d been a steady gear in the Horsemen machine all year, lined up for an outside toss play.
The snap was clean, the toss was textbook.
Zeke secured the ball cleanly and tucked it away, protecting it from imaginary Port Jervis defenders.
Then, as he planted to cut up field, something went wrong. His left knee buckled inward, and he crumpled before anyone touched him. The sound was subtle, but the moment it happened, every player nearby froze.
Zeke's exasperated wail cut through the afternoon like a hot knife through butter.
“Hold up! Hold up!” Ella’s voice carried over the whistles. The trainer sprinted across the field.
Zeke lay on his back, jaw clenched, his hands gripping the turf as though holding himself together by sheer force. The huddle broke apart into silent clusters.
Chase took a step forward, helmet dangling in his hand, but stopped a few feet away. Miles stood next to him, shaking his head.
“Take a knee!” Someone shouted.
The trainer’s expression told the story before the words came.
Johnny and Wyatt helped Zeke to the sideline and got him settled onto the bench.
The trainers loaded him to the cart and headed for the locker room.
Several players lined up on either side to clap for him.
Zeke tried to wave them off, but his eyes were glassy.
Later Chase overheard Ella talking to one of the trainers.
“We still need to evaluate everything but it's not good. I wouldn't expect to have him back.”
Ella gathered them in midfield. His tone was low, deliberate. “You all know what Zeke means to this team. He’s not suiting up Saturday. That’s the reality. But we don’t roll over. We carry him with us. We’ve been fighting uphill all season, this is just one more hill.”
When they broke the huddle, the “Horsemen!” rang sharper than it had all day.
---
The bus ride to Port Jervis was long enough to think, but not long enough to escape the nerves.
Chase sat near the back staring out the window as the landscape shifted from familiar to unrecognizable.
When the stadium came into view, it was bigger than it had looked on film. Red and black banners hung from the fences, the press box stood tall above the home stands, and you could already hear the drumline cutting through the November air.
Inside the visiting locker room, the smell of damp concrete mixed with the faint tang of fresh paint.
Cleats clacked against tile. Helmets thudded into lockers. Chase taped his wrists slowly, feeling the fabric tighten around each joint.
Miles sat a few spots down, hunched forward, earbuds in, bouncing his knees. Johnny leaned against his locker, head back and bobbing with the beat of whatever was in his headphones.
No one talked much.
The crisp air in the locker room felt charged, like the pause before a storm.
Chase couldn't help but feel like something was missing.
Then the door swung open, and Zeke hobbled in on crutches. No pads, no helmet, just a red hoodie with the Horsemen logo and a determined look in his eyes.
He’d made the trip on his own, wanting to be here.
Alright,” he said, planting both crutches in front of him. “I know I’m not strapping in today — believe me, that kills me more than you’ll ever know.”
His voice caught for a second, and Chase could see him swallow it down.
He cleared his throat.
“But I didn’t come here to mope. I came here to remind you what we are.”
Heads lifted. Miles pulled out his earbud.
“You’ve been fighting since August. You’ve taken hits, you’ve bled, you’ve been told you weren’t good enough. And here you are, one game closer to a championship. I’d give anything to be out there with you, but since I can’t, I’m asking you to do me one thing: leave it all out there. No regrets. If you’re tired, run harder. If you’re hurting, hit harder. And when it’s over, win or lose, make sure you can look each other in the eye knowing you gave every single thing you had.”
The room was quiet for a beat, just the hum of the air vent. Then a few players started nodding, muttering “let’s go” under their breath.
Zeke pointed toward the door.
“That’s our field out there today. Let’s take it.”
“THE JOB IS NOT FUCKING DONE!”
The cheer that followed wasn’t the loudest of the season, but it had weight.
Ella stepped up in front of them, hat pulled low, voice steady.
“We belong here. Don’t let their crowd fool you. We’ve been through battles to get here. This game’s about discipline, heart, and trust. Play your game, trust your reads, believe in each other. Let’s go take it.”
This time, the voices rang louder. Not wild, but charged, ready, unified.
“HORSEMEN!”
---
The game that unfolded was a battle of epic proportions.
Two teams, both determined to be the last one standing, neither willing to stay on the mat after a knock down.
Chase struck first, fighting for every inch as he fought his way into the endzone.
Port Jervis answered, both teams putting together long, deliberate drives with play counts in the double digits.
Every yard was a wrestling match. Chase’s keeps ended with bodies piling on top of him, and Miles’ runs were punctuated by collisions that left both sides slow to get up.
Miles found the endzone late in the first quarter, putting Sleepy Hollow on top 14-7.
Another answer from Port Jervis. 14-14.
Another grinding drive by the Horsemen ended with Chase at the bottom of a pile in the endzone late in the second quarter, giving Sleepy Hollow a 21-14 lead.
The Horsemen defense held, stuffing a fourth down draw play, and Miles got the ball twice to take it to halftime.
In the locker room there was no hiding it, Chase and Miles, who had accounted for all but a couple plays in the first half, were beat up. Every run seemingly ending in a big hit from a big Port Jervis defense.
They missed Zeke, the hammer.
Coach Ella's address was short and sweet, echoing ones from earlier in the season.
“Execute and finish this.” He instructed.
Port Jervis came out refreshed and re-energized.
In the blink of an eye the game was tied.
Chase stepped to the line and rolled his shoulders, trying to shake the aches.
Despite their obvious wear and tear Chase and Miles kept assaulting the Port Jervis defense, fighting for extra yards on every carry.
Every few plays they would mix in a run by Ty Lambo or one of Miles' backups, giving Chase and Miles a short lived respite.
Eventually Chase would burst into open space and sprint 41 yards to the endzone for a third score, all but collapsing on the bench once he made his way back to the sideline.
The Sleepy Hollow defense put up a valiant effort but Port Jervis found the endzone yet again, knotting things up at 28-28.
A few plays into their next possession Chase broke off a long yard run and put the ball at the Port Jervis nine yard line. Miles willed his way into the endzone on a run that was all grit and perseverance. 35-28.
Chase slumped onto the bench and looked up at the scoreboard as if he was trying to will the minutes away.
Port Jervis' ensuing drive finished off the third quarter and used up a chunk of the fourth before culminating in another touchdown that tied the epic battle up once again. 35-35.
Chase barely heard Coach Ella's instructions and encouragement as he dragged himself back onto the field.
“Job's not done.” Miles barked, voice cracking with fatigue.
The drive showed promise. Ty picked up a key first down that put the Horsemen out near midfield.
Zeke limped down the sideline with every snap, shouting at nobody in particular to “finish strong” and clapping for the linemen after each push. Even from the bench, he refused to let the energy sag.
Chase for four yards.
Miles for three.
Third and three at Port Jervis' 46.
The call came in.
A pass, Sleepy Hollow's first of the game.
Chase hesitated calling the play, then blurted it out and clapped his hands.
He walked to his spot, surveying the defense.
Nine in the box, corners isolated on the outside and looking in the backfield.
Chase clapped and caught the snap clean from Wyatt.
He'd barely gotten his hands on the laces when he fired a tight spiral to Jon on a slant.
The ball hit him in stride.
He'd barely had a chance to secure it and turn up-field when Port Jervis' middle linebacker delivered a devastating hit and sent the ball spiraling toward the sideline.
Chase could only watch as the cornerback pounced on it and smothered the ball like a wolf over a kill.
The roar from the home stands was immediate and deafening. Chase could see their sideline spring to life, helmets snapping on, coaches shouting to hurry the offense to the line. He already knew what was coming.
Port Jervis' score felt inevitable.
Coach Ella used all their timeouts but the stop they so desperately needed never came.
With four seconds left to play Port Jervis' kicker lined up for a chip shot field goal.
Chase felt numb as he watched the kick split the uprights and the opposing team start to celebrate.
38-35, Port Jervis.
It was over.
Miles fell to the ground nearby.
Johnny slammed his helmet on the turf and dropped to his knees.
Across the field, Port Jervis’ student section poured toward the fence. The public address announcer’s voice was almost lost under the swell of their band. In the middle of it all, Chase stood stunned, both hands with a death grip on his facemask.
He stared at the scoreboard until it blurred.
---
The walk back to the locker room felt longer than it had before the game. No one said much. The cold air bit harder now, the cheers from the Port Jervis crowd still echoing behind them.
Inside, the fluorescent lights were harsh, and the smell of sweat and defeat tape filled the air.
Players sat slumped on benches, slowly peeling off pads. Cleats clattered to the floor. A few just stared at the walls, still in full gear.
Near the doorway, Zeke leaned on his crutches, hood up, watching them file in. His face was tight, but his eyes stayed on his teammates.
Ella stood in the center of the room, hands on his hips, his gaze sweeping over the group. He waited until the shuffling quieted down, until the only sound left was the dull roar of celebration from outside.
“Fellas,” he began, voice low but steady, “I know it hurts. And it’s supposed to hurt. That’s how you know you poured everything into it.”
He let that hang for a moment. “What you’ve done this year, where you’ve taken this program, it’s bigger than tonight. First playoff win in years. A season no one outside of this room thought you were capable of.”
He paced slowly, looking each of them in the eye.
“You earned respect this year. From other teams, from your school, from your town. And you should be damn proud of that. I know I am. Proud to coach you. Proud to stand with you. Proud to say I’m part of this team.”
A few players nodded. Someone muttered, “Horsemen,” under their breath.
Ella took a step back. “That’s all I’ve got. But before we break it down, I think our quarterback’s got something to say.”
Chase sat for a second, flexing his hands and staring at the floor, then pushed himself up. He scanned the room faces tired, bruised, but locked on him.
“When I came here,” he said, “I didn’t know what to expect. New school. New team. Didn’t know if I’d fit in or if you’d even want me here. But you all… you took me in. You treated me like I’d been here since freshman year. You trusted me to lead you. And I tried to give you everything I had, every play.”
His voice caught for a second, but he pushed on.
“We didn’t get the ending we wanted. But we fought together. We bled together. And no matter what happens next, I’ll never forget this year or this team.”
From the back, Zeke’s voice broke the quiet.
“That’s the truth right there. You’re my brothers. Every one of you.”
For a moment, the room was still. Then Miles clapped once, hard. Johnny followed. Soon the whole locker room was on its feet, the sound filling the space like a victory all its own.
“Horsemen!” someone shouted.
“HORSEMEN!” the rest roared back.
---
Under the glow of his desk lamp, Jalen sat in his dorm room, a takeout container half-empty on the table beside him.
The hum of the mini-fridge was the only other sound in the room. His phone, propped against a water glass, streamed Arizona State’s game against BYU.
It had been another week of being left off the travel roster, another week of watching from miles away.
ASU started strong, Skattebo pounding in three first-half rushing touchdowns, each run the kind of hard-nosed football Jalen respected. The Sun Devils led 21–0 before BYU chipped in a long field goal before halftime.
The third quarter tightened things up. BYU scored on a 10-yard run, but ASU struck back fast, Sam Leavitt hitting Xavier Guillory for a 61-yard bomb. Jalen watched the replay three times. That was the kind of throw he used to make in high school, the kind he’d dreamed of making here.
BYU refused to go away. They scored again, added a two-point conversion, then found the end zone in the fourth to close within five.
Every possession felt heavier, the camera cutting to nervous faces in the stands.
When ASU’s defense forced a late turnover on downs, Jalen leaned back, exhaling.
Final score: ASU 28, BYU 23.
He sat there for a while, watching the postgame shots, players he’d sweated beside celebrating in front of the student section. It was a win that would bond a team together. He should have been part of that. Instead, he was alone in his dorm, the only light coming from a phone screen.
Jalen reached over, closed the stream, and set the phone face down. The room felt quieter than it had before, like the game’s noise had only made the silence afterward sharper. He rested his forearms on his knees, head down. The decision he’d been avoiding all season felt closer now.
---
Chase sat on Sophie’s couch, the low murmur of the Giants game on TV filling the space.
The muted crowd noise and occasional commentary blended into the background, just white noise under the soft lamplight.
He’d kicked off his shoes and was leaning back, his mind somewhere else, one arm stretched along the cushion behind her.
Sophie was curled into the corner, legs crossed, wearing an oversized hoodie and fuzzy socks, the steam from her mug curling upward in lazy swirls.
They’d been talking about nothing in particular, classes, Thanksgiving plans, when she set her mug down and glanced toward him.
“I’ve been thinking about transferring,” she said.
He turned toward her. “Transferring?”
“Yeah. To a school that has basketball. I’ve been looking into Erie and Hudson Valley.”
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Erie’s… pretty far. But Hudson Valley’s only a couple hours.”
He studied her face, the way she bit her lower lip like she was waiting for his reaction.
“Wow!” He replied, words coming out before his mind had a chance to process what she had said.
Her eyes flicked to him, a little surprised.
“Maybe. I mean… we’ve gotten used to being so close. I didn’t want to just spring it on you.”
Chase shifted forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
“Soph, I love being with you. And yeah, I’d miss having you right down the road. But if this is what you want? If it’s your shot? You’ve got to go for it. I’ll do whatever it takes to help and support you.”
Her shoulders eased a little, like she’d been holding that tension for weeks.
“Both schools have good nursing programs. I think… I think I might want to do that. Erie would mean starting fresh somewhere new, but Hudson Valley’s closer, and more of my credits would transfer. That’d make for a lighter class load, so I could actually focus on basketball and not be drowning in work.”
He smiled. “That sounds like a win-win.”
“I was going to reach out to the coaches,” she said, “but I wanted to talk to you first.”
“I’m glad you did.” He reached over, squeezing her hand. “And for the record, if you end up a couple hours away, or even more than that, that’s nothing. I’ll still be there whenever you need me.”
Her smile deepened, eyes holding his for a long beat. She didn’t have to say she believed him, he could tell she did.
Later, at home, Chase lay on his bed staring at the ceiling, the conversation playing back in his head. The thought of her moving away tugged at him, but so did the idea of her getting back on the court, chasing something she’d set aside.
He rolled over, grabbed his phone, and typed “Hudson Valley Community College” into the search bar.
The first thing that caught his eye was their athletics page, and a surprise: they had a football team.
Curious now, he searched “Erie Community College football.”
Another roster. Another schedule.
He lay back again, staring at the glow of the screen, the possibilities starting to take shape in his mind.
The wind off the river cut just enough to make you zip your jacket when you weren’t moving.
The team's student assistants were dressed in layers, some even wore knit caps, but on the field, the players ran in light layers, steam rising from their breath in thin wisps.
From the moment Chase jogged out of the locker room and onto the turf, he could feel the difference. It wasn’t just another week. This was it, the lead-up to the Class B semifinals, the biggest game most of these guys had ever played.
The chatter was different, sharper, clipped. Even the jokes during stretching had an edge, like everyone knew they were only there to burn off the nerves.
Getting their first playoff win had been huge. They’d savored it Saturday night and into Sunday, but by Monday morning, it was already in the rearview.
Now, they all wanted more.
“Job's not done!” They had all starting shouting during warm ups.
Coach Ella had them in shells, moving fast, every period trimmed down to sharpen execution.
The details mattered more now than ever.
The triple option, drilled since August, clicked with a smoothness that had taken months to build. Chase’s reads were clean, his footwork crisp. Miles hit the holes like he had a personal vendetta against the defense, lowering his shoulders on every finish despite the lack of contact.
When the first team rotated out, Chase jogged toward Miles, who was standing with his helmet tucked under his arm, focused intently and shouting pointers to the second team runningbacks.
“Hey,” Chase said, resting his hand on Miles’ shoulder. “We’ve been through it this year. Let’s finish this right.”
Miles grinned, that rare, easy grin that didn’t hide behind sarcasm. “Yeah. Let’s make ’em regret they ever saw us in the bracket.”
They bumped fists. Neither mentioned the early-season friction, the fight at the Halloween party, or the moments when they couldn’t stand each other. None of it mattered now. Not with Port Jervis waiting and a shot at the title game hanging in the balance.
The two stood next to each other in silence, watching their understudies run through a half dozen plays, the coaching staff working to polish them in case the unmentionable happened.
Jace, one of the backup quarterbacks, mishandled a ride with a runningback and put the ball on the ground.
Coach Ella tried, and failed, to hide his frustration.
“First offense!” Coach Ella shouted. “You're up!”
Miles bumped Chase on the chest and popped his helmet back on.
“Job's not done!” He shouted as he jogged to the huddle.
“Job's not done!” Half the team parroted.
Three plays in and the energy they'd all worked so hard to keep up was sucked out of the entire team in the blink of an eye.
Zeke, the reliable back who’d been a steady gear in the Horsemen machine all year, lined up for an outside toss play.
The snap was clean, the toss was textbook.
Zeke secured the ball cleanly and tucked it away, protecting it from imaginary Port Jervis defenders.
Then, as he planted to cut up field, something went wrong. His left knee buckled inward, and he crumpled before anyone touched him. The sound was subtle, but the moment it happened, every player nearby froze.
Zeke's exasperated wail cut through the afternoon like a hot knife through butter.
“Hold up! Hold up!” Ella’s voice carried over the whistles. The trainer sprinted across the field.
Zeke lay on his back, jaw clenched, his hands gripping the turf as though holding himself together by sheer force. The huddle broke apart into silent clusters.
Chase took a step forward, helmet dangling in his hand, but stopped a few feet away. Miles stood next to him, shaking his head.
“Take a knee!” Someone shouted.
The trainer’s expression told the story before the words came.
Johnny and Wyatt helped Zeke to the sideline and got him settled onto the bench.
The trainers loaded him to the cart and headed for the locker room.
Several players lined up on either side to clap for him.
Zeke tried to wave them off, but his eyes were glassy.
Later Chase overheard Ella talking to one of the trainers.
“We still need to evaluate everything but it's not good. I wouldn't expect to have him back.”
Ella gathered them in midfield. His tone was low, deliberate. “You all know what Zeke means to this team. He’s not suiting up Saturday. That’s the reality. But we don’t roll over. We carry him with us. We’ve been fighting uphill all season, this is just one more hill.”
When they broke the huddle, the “Horsemen!” rang sharper than it had all day.
---
The bus ride to Port Jervis was long enough to think, but not long enough to escape the nerves.
Chase sat near the back staring out the window as the landscape shifted from familiar to unrecognizable.
When the stadium came into view, it was bigger than it had looked on film. Red and black banners hung from the fences, the press box stood tall above the home stands, and you could already hear the drumline cutting through the November air.
Inside the visiting locker room, the smell of damp concrete mixed with the faint tang of fresh paint.
Cleats clacked against tile. Helmets thudded into lockers. Chase taped his wrists slowly, feeling the fabric tighten around each joint.
Miles sat a few spots down, hunched forward, earbuds in, bouncing his knees. Johnny leaned against his locker, head back and bobbing with the beat of whatever was in his headphones.
No one talked much.
The crisp air in the locker room felt charged, like the pause before a storm.
Chase couldn't help but feel like something was missing.
Then the door swung open, and Zeke hobbled in on crutches. No pads, no helmet, just a red hoodie with the Horsemen logo and a determined look in his eyes.
He’d made the trip on his own, wanting to be here.
Alright,” he said, planting both crutches in front of him. “I know I’m not strapping in today — believe me, that kills me more than you’ll ever know.”
His voice caught for a second, and Chase could see him swallow it down.
He cleared his throat.
“But I didn’t come here to mope. I came here to remind you what we are.”
Heads lifted. Miles pulled out his earbud.
“You’ve been fighting since August. You’ve taken hits, you’ve bled, you’ve been told you weren’t good enough. And here you are, one game closer to a championship. I’d give anything to be out there with you, but since I can’t, I’m asking you to do me one thing: leave it all out there. No regrets. If you’re tired, run harder. If you’re hurting, hit harder. And when it’s over, win or lose, make sure you can look each other in the eye knowing you gave every single thing you had.”
The room was quiet for a beat, just the hum of the air vent. Then a few players started nodding, muttering “let’s go” under their breath.
Zeke pointed toward the door.
“That’s our field out there today. Let’s take it.”
“THE JOB IS NOT FUCKING DONE!”
The cheer that followed wasn’t the loudest of the season, but it had weight.
Ella stepped up in front of them, hat pulled low, voice steady.
“We belong here. Don’t let their crowd fool you. We’ve been through battles to get here. This game’s about discipline, heart, and trust. Play your game, trust your reads, believe in each other. Let’s go take it.”
This time, the voices rang louder. Not wild, but charged, ready, unified.
“HORSEMEN!”
---
The game that unfolded was a battle of epic proportions.
Two teams, both determined to be the last one standing, neither willing to stay on the mat after a knock down.
Chase struck first, fighting for every inch as he fought his way into the endzone.
Port Jervis answered, both teams putting together long, deliberate drives with play counts in the double digits.
Every yard was a wrestling match. Chase’s keeps ended with bodies piling on top of him, and Miles’ runs were punctuated by collisions that left both sides slow to get up.
Miles found the endzone late in the first quarter, putting Sleepy Hollow on top 14-7.
Another answer from Port Jervis. 14-14.
Another grinding drive by the Horsemen ended with Chase at the bottom of a pile in the endzone late in the second quarter, giving Sleepy Hollow a 21-14 lead.
The Horsemen defense held, stuffing a fourth down draw play, and Miles got the ball twice to take it to halftime.
In the locker room there was no hiding it, Chase and Miles, who had accounted for all but a couple plays in the first half, were beat up. Every run seemingly ending in a big hit from a big Port Jervis defense.
They missed Zeke, the hammer.
Coach Ella's address was short and sweet, echoing ones from earlier in the season.
“Execute and finish this.” He instructed.
Port Jervis came out refreshed and re-energized.
In the blink of an eye the game was tied.
Chase stepped to the line and rolled his shoulders, trying to shake the aches.
Despite their obvious wear and tear Chase and Miles kept assaulting the Port Jervis defense, fighting for extra yards on every carry.
Every few plays they would mix in a run by Ty Lambo or one of Miles' backups, giving Chase and Miles a short lived respite.
Eventually Chase would burst into open space and sprint 41 yards to the endzone for a third score, all but collapsing on the bench once he made his way back to the sideline.
The Sleepy Hollow defense put up a valiant effort but Port Jervis found the endzone yet again, knotting things up at 28-28.
A few plays into their next possession Chase broke off a long yard run and put the ball at the Port Jervis nine yard line. Miles willed his way into the endzone on a run that was all grit and perseverance. 35-28.
Chase slumped onto the bench and looked up at the scoreboard as if he was trying to will the minutes away.
Port Jervis' ensuing drive finished off the third quarter and used up a chunk of the fourth before culminating in another touchdown that tied the epic battle up once again. 35-35.
Chase barely heard Coach Ella's instructions and encouragement as he dragged himself back onto the field.
“Job's not done.” Miles barked, voice cracking with fatigue.
The drive showed promise. Ty picked up a key first down that put the Horsemen out near midfield.
Zeke limped down the sideline with every snap, shouting at nobody in particular to “finish strong” and clapping for the linemen after each push. Even from the bench, he refused to let the energy sag.
Chase for four yards.
Miles for three.
Third and three at Port Jervis' 46.
The call came in.
A pass, Sleepy Hollow's first of the game.
Chase hesitated calling the play, then blurted it out and clapped his hands.
He walked to his spot, surveying the defense.
Nine in the box, corners isolated on the outside and looking in the backfield.
Chase clapped and caught the snap clean from Wyatt.
He'd barely gotten his hands on the laces when he fired a tight spiral to Jon on a slant.
The ball hit him in stride.
He'd barely had a chance to secure it and turn up-field when Port Jervis' middle linebacker delivered a devastating hit and sent the ball spiraling toward the sideline.
Chase could only watch as the cornerback pounced on it and smothered the ball like a wolf over a kill.
The roar from the home stands was immediate and deafening. Chase could see their sideline spring to life, helmets snapping on, coaches shouting to hurry the offense to the line. He already knew what was coming.
Port Jervis' score felt inevitable.
Coach Ella used all their timeouts but the stop they so desperately needed never came.
With four seconds left to play Port Jervis' kicker lined up for a chip shot field goal.
Chase felt numb as he watched the kick split the uprights and the opposing team start to celebrate.
38-35, Port Jervis.
It was over.
Miles fell to the ground nearby.
Johnny slammed his helmet on the turf and dropped to his knees.
Across the field, Port Jervis’ student section poured toward the fence. The public address announcer’s voice was almost lost under the swell of their band. In the middle of it all, Chase stood stunned, both hands with a death grip on his facemask.
He stared at the scoreboard until it blurred.
---
The walk back to the locker room felt longer than it had before the game. No one said much. The cold air bit harder now, the cheers from the Port Jervis crowd still echoing behind them.
Inside, the fluorescent lights were harsh, and the smell of sweat and defeat tape filled the air.
Players sat slumped on benches, slowly peeling off pads. Cleats clattered to the floor. A few just stared at the walls, still in full gear.
Near the doorway, Zeke leaned on his crutches, hood up, watching them file in. His face was tight, but his eyes stayed on his teammates.
Ella stood in the center of the room, hands on his hips, his gaze sweeping over the group. He waited until the shuffling quieted down, until the only sound left was the dull roar of celebration from outside.
“Fellas,” he began, voice low but steady, “I know it hurts. And it’s supposed to hurt. That’s how you know you poured everything into it.”
He let that hang for a moment. “What you’ve done this year, where you’ve taken this program, it’s bigger than tonight. First playoff win in years. A season no one outside of this room thought you were capable of.”
He paced slowly, looking each of them in the eye.
“You earned respect this year. From other teams, from your school, from your town. And you should be damn proud of that. I know I am. Proud to coach you. Proud to stand with you. Proud to say I’m part of this team.”
A few players nodded. Someone muttered, “Horsemen,” under their breath.
Ella took a step back. “That’s all I’ve got. But before we break it down, I think our quarterback’s got something to say.”
Chase sat for a second, flexing his hands and staring at the floor, then pushed himself up. He scanned the room faces tired, bruised, but locked on him.
“When I came here,” he said, “I didn’t know what to expect. New school. New team. Didn’t know if I’d fit in or if you’d even want me here. But you all… you took me in. You treated me like I’d been here since freshman year. You trusted me to lead you. And I tried to give you everything I had, every play.”
His voice caught for a second, but he pushed on.
“We didn’t get the ending we wanted. But we fought together. We bled together. And no matter what happens next, I’ll never forget this year or this team.”
From the back, Zeke’s voice broke the quiet.
“That’s the truth right there. You’re my brothers. Every one of you.”
For a moment, the room was still. Then Miles clapped once, hard. Johnny followed. Soon the whole locker room was on its feet, the sound filling the space like a victory all its own.
“Horsemen!” someone shouted.
“HORSEMEN!” the rest roared back.
---
Under the glow of his desk lamp, Jalen sat in his dorm room, a takeout container half-empty on the table beside him.
The hum of the mini-fridge was the only other sound in the room. His phone, propped against a water glass, streamed Arizona State’s game against BYU.
It had been another week of being left off the travel roster, another week of watching from miles away.
ASU started strong, Skattebo pounding in three first-half rushing touchdowns, each run the kind of hard-nosed football Jalen respected. The Sun Devils led 21–0 before BYU chipped in a long field goal before halftime.
The third quarter tightened things up. BYU scored on a 10-yard run, but ASU struck back fast, Sam Leavitt hitting Xavier Guillory for a 61-yard bomb. Jalen watched the replay three times. That was the kind of throw he used to make in high school, the kind he’d dreamed of making here.
BYU refused to go away. They scored again, added a two-point conversion, then found the end zone in the fourth to close within five.
Every possession felt heavier, the camera cutting to nervous faces in the stands.
When ASU’s defense forced a late turnover on downs, Jalen leaned back, exhaling.
Final score: ASU 28, BYU 23.
He sat there for a while, watching the postgame shots, players he’d sweated beside celebrating in front of the student section. It was a win that would bond a team together. He should have been part of that. Instead, he was alone in his dorm, the only light coming from a phone screen.
Jalen reached over, closed the stream, and set the phone face down. The room felt quieter than it had before, like the game’s noise had only made the silence afterward sharper. He rested his forearms on his knees, head down. The decision he’d been avoiding all season felt closer now.
---
Chase sat on Sophie’s couch, the low murmur of the Giants game on TV filling the space.
The muted crowd noise and occasional commentary blended into the background, just white noise under the soft lamplight.
He’d kicked off his shoes and was leaning back, his mind somewhere else, one arm stretched along the cushion behind her.
Sophie was curled into the corner, legs crossed, wearing an oversized hoodie and fuzzy socks, the steam from her mug curling upward in lazy swirls.
They’d been talking about nothing in particular, classes, Thanksgiving plans, when she set her mug down and glanced toward him.
“I’ve been thinking about transferring,” she said.
He turned toward her. “Transferring?”
“Yeah. To a school that has basketball. I’ve been looking into Erie and Hudson Valley.”
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Erie’s… pretty far. But Hudson Valley’s only a couple hours.”
He studied her face, the way she bit her lower lip like she was waiting for his reaction.
“Wow!” He replied, words coming out before his mind had a chance to process what she had said.
Her eyes flicked to him, a little surprised.
“Maybe. I mean… we’ve gotten used to being so close. I didn’t want to just spring it on you.”
Chase shifted forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
“Soph, I love being with you. And yeah, I’d miss having you right down the road. But if this is what you want? If it’s your shot? You’ve got to go for it. I’ll do whatever it takes to help and support you.”
Her shoulders eased a little, like she’d been holding that tension for weeks.
“Both schools have good nursing programs. I think… I think I might want to do that. Erie would mean starting fresh somewhere new, but Hudson Valley’s closer, and more of my credits would transfer. That’d make for a lighter class load, so I could actually focus on basketball and not be drowning in work.”
He smiled. “That sounds like a win-win.”
“I was going to reach out to the coaches,” she said, “but I wanted to talk to you first.”
“I’m glad you did.” He reached over, squeezing her hand. “And for the record, if you end up a couple hours away, or even more than that, that’s nothing. I’ll still be there whenever you need me.”
Her smile deepened, eyes holding his for a long beat. She didn’t have to say she believed him, he could tell she did.
Later, at home, Chase lay on his bed staring at the ceiling, the conversation playing back in his head. The thought of her moving away tugged at him, but so did the idea of her getting back on the court, chasing something she’d set aside.
He rolled over, grabbed his phone, and typed “Hudson Valley Community College” into the search bar.
The first thing that caught his eye was their athletics page, and a surprise: they had a football team.
Curious now, he searched “Erie Community College football.”
Another roster. Another schedule.
He lay back again, staring at the glow of the screen, the possibilities starting to take shape in his mind.
-
djp73
Topic author - Posts: 11551
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 13:42
Run To The Sun
Chase Pryor runs for a 41 yard touchdown in Sleepy Hollow's playoff loss at Port Jervis
HORSEMEN FALL IN SEMIFINAL HEARTBREAKER TO PORT JERVIS
PORT JERVIS —In a clash worthy of the stakes, the Sleepy Hollow Horsemen saw their historic playoff run come to a heartbreaking end Friday night, falling 38-35 to Port Jervis in the Class B semifinals.
The game had everything: long, grinding drives, bruising runs, and momentum swings that kept both sidelines on edge until the final whistle. Unfortunately for the Horsemen, it was Port Jervis who made the final big play, converting a short field goal with four seconds left to secure the win after recovering a Sleepy Hollow fumble.
“It’s a tough way to end it,” head coach Robert Ella said afterward. “But these guys have nothing to hang their heads about. They’ve put this program back on the map.”
Sleepy Hollow came out swinging behind seniors Chase Pryor and Miles Cunningham. Pryor opened the scoring with a determined run that saw him break two tackles before lunging into the end zone.
Port Jervis responded with a long, deliberate drive to tie the game, but Cunningham answered late in the first quarter, capping a 10-play march with a powerful 5-yard run to make it 14–7.
After another Red Raiders equalizer, the Horsemen regained the lead on another Pryor touchdown run late in the second quarter. The defense then delivered a huge fourth-down stop near midfield, setting up another pair of Cunningham runs send Sleepy Hollow into halftime up 21–14.
Sleepy Hollow senior back Zeke Tamm, the Horsemen’s short-yardage bruiser, was lost to a knee injury in Tuesday’s practice. But he was on the sideline, on crutches, and made his presence felt with a fiery pregame speech.
“You’ve been fighting since August,” Tamm told his teammates in the locker room before kickoff. “Leave it all out there. No regrets.”
His words resonated. Even as the Red Raiders tied the game early in the third quarter, Sleepy Hollow kept leaning on Pryor and Cunningham, who combined for over 300 rushing yards on the night.
Pryor’s third touchdown run was electric, covering 41 yards to put the Horsemen ahead 28–21 late in the third, and the visiting sideline erupted.
But Port Jervis wouldn’t go away. They tied it again at 28-28 just a few minutes later.
Pryor broke off another long run and set up Sleepy Hollow at the Port Jervis nine yard line. From there Cunningham fought tooth and nail to get into the endzone and put the Horsemen back on top at 35-28.
Port Jervis assembled another long scoring drive that carried from the end of the third quarter until nearly halfway through the fourth quarter. They capped it with another touchdown and once again the game was tied, this time at 35-35.
With just over four minutes left Sleepy Hollow began what looked like another promising drive.
On 3rd-and-3 near midfield, the Horsemen dialed up their first pass of the game. The slant was caught in stride, but a jarring hit from the Red Raiders’ middle linebacker knocked the ball loose, and the home team pounced on it.
From there Port Jervis methodically worked the clock before kicking the game-winner from inside 25 yards.
Pryor stood on the sideline, watching the kick sail through as the Red Raiders’ student section roared.
Cunningham collapsed to the turf.
Senior lineman Johnny Doughty slammed his helmet down in frustration.
Despite the painful ending, the 2024 Horsemen will be remembered as the team that brought playoff football back to Sleepy Hollow and won the program’s first postseason game in years.
“I didn’t know what to expect when I got here,” said Pryor, who moved here from Maine last summer. “But they all took me in. They trusted me. We didn’t get the ending we wanted, but we fought together every week and I’ll never forget this team and these guys.”
Ella’s message in the locker room was just as heartfelt. “You earned respect this year,” he told his players. “From your opponents, your school, your town. I’m proud to be your coach. You should be proud to be Horsemen.”
