Dale Denton | The Legacy | Rookie Year

[Agent]

[The JZA]

Chapter II: Pulling Up For The Big Game

The weeks had been rolling by like dominos, one after another, as the 2029 college football season dug its claws into autumn. And Dale? He wasn’t just playing—he was feasting. Boy was on a whole ’nother tier. Defenses lined up thinking they had him figured out, only to get diced up for chunks on the ground or gashed through the air. By week seven, the Washington Huskies weren’t just contenders—they were headline material. And Dale Denton, five yards shy of 1,000 passing and 1,000 rushing in the regular season, was the flame keeping the fire lit.

Coach Danielson had blessed the squad with a rare Monday off, giving the team a chance to exhale. For Dale, that meant lights dimmed, blinds half-drawn, controller in hand, thumbsticks clacking as he lost himself in Darksiders II on the PS5. The game had him in its grip, his focus locked, his shoulders loose for the first time in weeks.

Then came the break in rhythm. His phone rattled against the desk, the screen lighting up. Caller ID: Mark Denton.

Dale’s whole vibe shifted. Pops never called—not unless it was something real.

He scooped the phone, answered on the second ring. “Yo, what’s up, old man? What’s going on?”

Mark’s voice came through, sharp as ever, with that no-nonsense bass in it. “What’s good, son. Just checking in since you don’t know how to call nobody no more. Been damn near two years since I heard your voice. Had to keep tabs on you through ESPN like I’m some stranger. That’s sad, boy.”

Dale rubbed the back of his neck, guilt creeping in.

“Shit… two years? Damn, I ain’t even peep it been that long. My fault, O.G. I been in my own little bubble, you know how it go. Didn’t mean to ice y’all out like that.”

Mark let out a heavy sigh, the kind only fathers with decades of miles on them could let loose. “It’s been the same grind here. Still running the sanitation company, still the community handyman when folks don’t wanna pay nobody else. Been keeping busy with this ’67 Camaro SS, though. Baby’s coming along nice. Cherry black, chrome rims. You’ll see it one day.” He paused, voice shifting from casual to intent. “But enough about me. I’m calling ‘cause I want to come see you. Got some time off next month, and you got that big game against Ohio State. I want in. Think you can pull some strings for tickets?”

Dale smirked, his energy lifting. “You want tickets? Yeah, I got you. Wait—hold up, playa’. You talking like you really hopping a flight out here? Who’s flying you out? Don’t play me—who’s her name?”

Mark chuckled low, gravelly. “Don’t get slick. It ain’t like that. Just me and a plus one. Thought it’d be a good chance to spend time, see you do your thing on the field. The way you lighting teams up this season, I want to feel that energy live.”

Dale narrowed his eyes, sensing something.

“Who’s the plus one?”

There was a pause on the other end before Mark let it out. “Actually… it’s your mother. She wanted to surprise you.”

Dale froze, then broke into laughter. "Oh shit. Has it really been that long that you two are finally getting along? Damn, I think I need to not talk to y'all a little while longer." Despite the joke, Dale’s chest warmed. He hadn’t seen his parents in the same space since before everything fell apart. The thought of them both sitting in the stands, rooting for him, hit different.

Mark’s laugh came through but died quick. “Don’t spread that shit around! We ain't exactly BFFs. We just agreed to peace out long enough to come support you. Nothing more, nothing less. But we both proud of you, Dale. Real proud.”

Dale’s grin softened, and for the first time in the convo, his voice carried weight. “Bet. I can’t wait to see y’all. Besides, I got something on my mind I may want to rap to you about. It's nothing definitive, but I need some perspectives."

"Talk to me." Mark's tone shifted. "Was there some mess I need to know about?”

Dale sat back, controller dropped on the desk, sigh tugging from his chest. He walked Pops through the whole saga from the year before. The beef. The fights. The near implosions. None of it sugarcoated.

Mark listened in silence, his breathing steady but heavy. When Dale finished, Mark finally spoke. “Damn, boy. That’s messy. Real messy." Mark shook his head. "But you know what I respect? You owning up to it. Still, I’ma tell you this straight—don’t let pussy or petty bullshit ruin your future. You hear me? You gotta be sharper than that. You got too much riding on this.”

Dale nodded, “I know. Me and Trey, we squashed it, but trust don’t come back that easy. I moved on, though. I ain’t carrying that weight no more. Just needed to finally tell you about it.”

“I swear you're your mother's son." Mark's tone grew colder, but his words hit truth. "Heart on your sleeve, always in the mix. But you better learn fast: emotions and responsibility don’t mix. Handle your business first. Then deal with the rest.” His voice softened slightly. “I love you, son. But if you don’t tighten up, all this can go away quick. You don’t want to be a coulda-woulda-shoulda story.”

“I hear you, O.G. And don’t worry. I’m locked in. This season, it’s different. I’m different.”

“I can tell. You playing with that edge. Just remember: edges cut both ways. Keep yours sharp but controlled. And about this friend you mentioned, the one who pushed you to holler at me, Clar—”

Dale cut him off quick.

“Relax, fam. She’s just a friend. Got a dude at Washington State. Chill.”

“Mm-hmm,” Mark said with that knowing hum fathers pull out when they smell something brewing. But he didn’t push. “Alright then. But just know, good friends don’t come around often. Don’t fumble the people who look out for you.”

The convo shifted lighter for the next hour, more laughter spilling through.

"But yeah, fam, I'll talk to coach about getting those tickets set up for the Ohio State game. Can't wait to have y'all in town."

"That's what's up, son. We'll be there, no doubt. And I look forward to seeing you ball out on the field again." Mark's voice fills with anticipation. "Just make sure you give it your all, like you always do. Show 'em why you don't mess with us Denton boys." He chuckles. "And maybe after the game, you can show me around campus a little. It's been a minute since I stepped foot in a college environment."

"Aye!" Dale cut off Mark. "No bunnies for you. I seen those Uncle Luke tapes, you can dead that shit right now!"

Mark burst into laughter. "Shut the fuck up! What you know about Uncle Luke? Boy, that was before your time!" Mark stammered with laughter. Soon enough, Mark's tone shifts to something more serious. "Dale... I'm really glad we had this talk. I'm proud of the man you're becoming. You got a bright future ahead of you, and I'm here to support you every step of the way."

"I appreciate that O.G., I'll talk to you soon, and not another year later." Dale and Mark shared a hardy laugh.

"You better not! I might have to come out there and kick your ass if you pull that shit again!" He pauses, his voice softening. "But seriously, Dale. I love you, son. Be good and stay out of trouble, aight?"

"Love you too, O.G. Stay safe."

With that, Dale hung up the phone, feeling a bit refreshed from hearing his father's voice once more. Even though Dale had put the past behind him, hearing Mark's perspective felt like he'd finally put the last nail in the coffin, despite the results. While it fueled his game of late, Dale knew he couldn't stipend on it week after week. It would come a time that Dale would need to channel his game, his abilities, his skills, and not his animosity.

[The JZA]

[redsox907]

glad his fam is coming out, but don't overlook Michigan and turn Ohio State into a must win

[The JZA]

[The JZA]

glad his fam is coming out, but don't overlook Michigan and turn Ohio State into a must win

redsox907,

Rant a slant and hit this man wide open in stride to the endzone...

#TheOpps

[The JZA]

[The JZA]

[Agent]

Oregon’s defense didn’t know whether to defend the scramble or defend the pass.

[The JZA]