Dale Denton | The Legacy | Rookie Year

[The JZA]

[redsox907]

cooked em

but 10 attempts for 0 yards? Must have been a few big sacks

[Agent]

huskies letting that mf fly in that game. UCLA should be a fun one.

[The JZA]

cooked em

but 10 attempts for 0 yards? Must have been a few big sacks

redsox907, Yeah, a our line blew up on a couple PAs. Didn't wanna overstep and be greedy so I just did enough to clear that debt. We profit on the TD though

huskies letting that mf fly in that game. UCLA should be a fun one.

Agent, Had to. Played under with Bruce Robinson until we saw CL8 was cooking their safeties. It was fair game from there.

[Soapy]

this is a safe space. did you turn off W&T? I thought you'd be retired by now but I also see you playing more conservatively

[The JZA]

this is a safe space.

Soapy,

But no, I haven't turned off W&T. I actually keep forgetting to fiddle with it and find a sweet spot. The season bar has taken a bigger hit than the career since the start of the season, so I gotta do some adjustments before next game

[The JZA]

[redsox907]

dawgs are barking, but what's with Dale' lack luster rushing #s lately? Keeping them to a min to reduce W&T? Even so, 12 Attempts means he's either taking a lot of sacks or just short runs. Both add up in the long run

[Agent]

Duncan was airing it out & doing a horrible job. Surprising he didn't throw a pick.

Dale doing what he has to do for the success of Washington

[The JZA]

Chapter VI: Boys Being Boys Pt.II

The 2028 season had Washington moving like a freight train with no brakes. UNLV got stomped out 29-14. Eastern Washington? Fed to the wolves, 62-20. Washington State tried their luck, 47-21. Then came #19 UCLA, all the critics gassed they might be the ones to trip the Dawgs up. Nope—34-16. Business as usual. The squad was eating, the stadium rocking, and the record staying spotless. But beneath all that purple and gold glory, something foul was brewing.

Dale walked into the locker room after the team, last man in, soaking up the smell of sweat, grass, and victory. Pads clattered, teammates laughed it up, big win energy buzzing in the air. But the vibe shifted fast when his eyes locked on Trey posted up by the lockers like a storm cloud waiting to break. Arms crossed, jaw set, eyes cutting like blades.

“Yo, Dale. Word,” Trey barked, jerking his chin like he was summoning somebody to the block.

Dale frowned but stepped up. “What’s good?”

“You know what you did out there today. Just like last week. Just like the week before. Why the fuck you playing with me?!” Trey’s voice rose, sharp enough to cut through the locker room chatter. Heads started turning. “You killing the team, bro. All ‘cause you too shook to throw my way. Not a single-fucking-pass in four games! What part of receiver don’t you understand?”

Dale cocked a brow, unbothered. “Killing the team? The scoreboard say different. 34-16, another W. You mad at the win now?”

That only twisted Trey tighter. He stepped off the lockers, closing the gap. “Don’t get slick. That score shoulda been uglier, and you know it. Forty on the board, easy. But you kept your blinders on, freezing me out like I ain’t out there running routes. That’s selfish shit, QB.”

Dale’s jaw clenched, eyes narrowing to ice slits. “Selfish? Coming from you? Nah, homie, miss me with that.” His voice dipped low, but everybody nearby could hear. “You still sore about that bullshit you pulled on the blacktop before the season. You been moving funny ever since. Don’t think I ain’t peeped it.”

Trey’s nostrils flared, veins popping in his neck. “Yo, don’t bring that weak shit up. That don’t got nothing to do with this!” He stepped even closer, face inches away, his 5’8” frame trying to stare down Dale’s 6’1”. “Quarterback ignoring his own man? That’s when the whole offense looks suspect. And right now, QB, you looking suspect.”

Dale’s lips curled into a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. “You? My man, you a third-string option. Don’t forget that. And I suggest you back up before you end up more out the picture than you already are.”

The whole room went still. Cleats stopped clacking, straps stopped ripping, laughter shut off like a switch. Now it was just tension thick enough to choke on.

Trey tilted his head, eyes blazing. “Third string? Keep lying to yourself. I’m the best look you got on this squad and deep down, you know it. You scared to admit it, that’s all.”

Lincoln,” Dale said slowly, voice laced with venom. “That’s the last time I’m gonna tell you—Fall. The fuck. Back.”

Trey didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Didn’t even breathe for a second. “That a threat, bro? ‘Cause if it is, you better watch your mouth real careful.”

They stood locked, two dogs with teeth bared, neither folding. Teammates finally jumped in, hands pushing at chests, voices urging calm. Dale held his poker face, hands raised like he was calling truce. “Aight. You got it, Trey. I’ll see you next week.” He said it light, almost playful, but the weight behind it was heavy as lead.

“Bet,” Trey spat. Shoulders stiff, fists still half-balled. “Do that. Maybe you’ll smarten the fuck up and play that cheat code QB role like I know you can, fucking bitch!”

That’s when Coach Danielson stormed in, voice booming like thunder. “HEY! What the fuck is going on in here? Somebody better tell me before I start benching motherfuckers!”

The silence was instant. Trey backed off a step, chest still heaving. Dale wiped the scowl from his face, putting on his QB mask. “Ain’t nothing, Coach. Just going over the playbook for next week. It’s on me.”

Danielson looked between them, suspicion in his eyes. “I don’t give a damn what it is, but it stays the hell out of my locker room. Lincoln. Denton. I catch either one of you acting like some high school drama queens again, I’m snatching your ass off that field so fast your mama gonna feel it. You hear me?”

“Yes, Coach,” Dale and Trey muttered in unison, both sounding like liars caught red-handed.

The coach stormed out, the heavy door slamming behind him. The room was quiet again, teammates avoiding eye contact, pretending to focus on unstrapping pads. The only sound was Velcro ripping and helmets hitting lockers.

Dale sat down slow, never taking his eyes off Trey. In his head, one thought circled over and over: if Trey wanted smoke, he was gonna get it.

And Trey? He was thinking the exact same thing.