Dale Denton | The Legacy | Rookie Year

[The JZA]

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

Agent, Every time they boxed in, I dropped to a spread the next play, boot and run. Their weak side got exposed and abused.

[djp73]

still rolling

[The JZA]

[djp73]

everybody giffin now

[YaBoyRobRoy]

wow that play, Dale went straight Heisman mode! love the gif bruh

[redsox907]

got that L back in blood

[The JZA]

everybody giffin now

djp73, #ForTheCulture

wow that play, Dale went straight Heisman mode! love the gif bruh

YaBoyRobRoy, We had some big plays, but that was definitely the most enticing one that got me outta my seat lol

Our boy Dale straight up bull rushed #13 and I'm like

got that L back in blood

redsox907, IT'S DUB OR DIE!!

[The JZA]

Chapter III: Dub Or Die

It had been damn near a year since Dale Denton tasted the turf courtesy of Wisconsin’s defense. The Badgers had dog-walked him, left him banged up and sitting in the trainer’s room while his boys fought in vain. Eight sacks in one half. The shit replayed in his head like a nightmare on loop. And from the moment that clock struck zero, Dale circled this season’s rematch in red ink. This wasn’t just another game on the schedule—it was personal.

And when it finally came? Dale cashed in every ounce of pent-up vengeance.

From the opening whistle, he came out guns blazing. Three straight quarters, he tortured Wisconsin’s defense like he’d been waiting his whole life for it. Throwing darts across the middle, opening up the run game with Big Zeke tanking the way off Texas and wheel routes, spinning off linebackers like they were JV. 232 passing yards, 132 rushing on just 12 attempts, four touchdowns total. By the time the third quarter closed, the scoreboard read 7–38 Huskies, and Badgers fans were headed for the exits, heads low, muttering curses under their breath.

It wasn’t just redemption—it was humiliation served back ice cold.

As the team jogged off after the game, battered and gassed but grinning ear-to-ear, Dale dapped up Coach Danielson outside the tunnel. Sweat still dripping, adrenaline buzzing. “We needed that one, Coach. Any means necessary. Felt good to get my lick back after last year.”

Coach grinned wide, patting Dale on the shoulder pads. “You didn’t just get it back, son. You made a statement. That was big-time, across the board. I’m proud of you.” He cocked his head. “And what’s that now—your seventh straight game rushing over a hundred? You killing ‘em out there.”

Dale raised his brows, half-surprised. “Seven? Damn, I hadn’t even been keeping count. I just want to ball out and keep stacking dubs with the boys.”

They paused outside the locker room, letting the team brush past, high on victory. For a moment it was just coach and quarterback, like a father and son sharing air between storms.

“I won’t lie,” Dale said, voice steady but raw, “being in the doghouse after the fallout, then sitting with that injury—it gave me time to think. Put shit in perspective. You talked sense into me that day, Coach. And it stuck. Everything I’m putting on this field now? That’s me keeping my word to you.”

Coach chuckled softly, shaking his head like he’d known this day would come. “Don’t thank me, kid. That’s what I’m here for—to keep you pointed straight. But don’t get it twisted. This right here? This is you. Your grind, your hunger, your discipline. That’s what separates the good from the elite.” He motioned toward the locker room, the sound of laughter and shouting echoing out. “Look around. They feeding off you, Dale. Your energy. Your example. That’s leadership. And it’s why we’re dangerous again.” His voice dropped low, serious. “Keep pushing. Keep leading. The sky’s the limit, but only if you stay locked in.”

“Facts,” Dale said, nodding firm. “But we both know the real test is next week. We got Ohio State.”

That name alone changed the air.

The Buckeyes were undefeated, just like Washington. 8–0 (5–0). Last year, they stomped the Huskies 42–14, a bloodbath Dale hadn’t forgotten. Georgia had sent Ohio State home early in the playoffs, but that didn’t erase the pain from Husky hearts. Their senior QB Zebulin Kinsey had been eating all season, and now it was #1 versus #6, a heavyweight collision waiting to happen.

“I need a favor, Coach,” Dale said, jaw tight. “This week at practice—we need that push. No half-steppin’, no shortcuts, no mercy. We grind ‘til our lungs burn. They embarrassed us last year, and I’ll be damned if it happens again.”

Coach crossed his arms, steel flashing in his eyes. “You’ll get it. I’ll make sure practice is hell, ‘cause that’s what it’s gonna take. But I need you to set the tone. Show these young cats what champions look like. We’ve been there before, Dale. Let’s get back.” He leaned in close. “You got the talent, the fire, and now the wisdom. You’re the spark, kid. I trust you to ignite the whole damn team.”

Dale smirked, fist-bumping him before heading in. “You already know, Coach. It’s up.”

The locker room was chaos—music blasting, helmets clanging, dudes dancing half in their gear, half out. It felt different now. A year ago, this place was fractured—cliques, grudges, Dale and Trey at each other’s throats. But now? It was brotherhood. A dog pack with one mission. Dale soaked it in for a minute before climbing up on a chair. The room went quiet as he raised his voice over the noise.

“Yo! Listen up!”

All eyes turned to him. Helmets in hands, tape still on wrists, sweat dripping down brows.

“For the last eight games, we balled out. We grinded. We left blood and sweat out there every damn Saturday. But next week? Next week is different. Next week ain’t just another game—it’s war. Ohio State humiliated us last year on their turf. 42-14. And now they're coming to our house looking to do it again. On top of that, they got the same record as we do, holding down the number one ranked spot. They think it’s sweet out here. They think they come out here and enjoy a little bit of rain, enjoy a little bit of that pacific sea breeze. I don't know about y'all, but that don't sit well with me...”

His voice grew harder, sharper, each word like a hammer.

“I told Coach to push us past the brink this week, ‘cause I need one thousand percent from everybody—players, coaches, trainers, water boys, everybody. I don’t care if you limping or wheezing, you find a way to fight through it. This. Is. Not. A. Game. We. Lose!” He clapped through his last statement with emphasis.

“Aye listen, seven days from now, we line up for war. But this time? This time we lock in, we don’t fold! We get through them? The world is ours!.. 2027, we capped the season with a Natty. Last year, I cost us. That’s on me. But this year? I got my shit together.” His eyes scanned the room, landing on Trey for a moment, silent acknowledgment of their history.

“And now we rolling. I know we ain’t about to let the Buckeyes come here and disrespect us again, right?!”

The room rumbled with a low “No!”

“I said, we not letting Ohio State disrespect us, are we?!” Dale barked.

“HELL NO!” the squad roared back, voices cracking the walls.

“Cause we what?!”

“DAWGS FOR LIFE!”, the team reciprocated.

“And what we gonna make ‘em do?!”

“BOW DOWN!”

“Huskies on me!”

The room thundered as fists shot up, the team’s unified roar echoing: “HUSKIES!”

The celebration turned into a battle cry. The Badgers had been handled, but the real hunt was just beginning...

[The JZA]

Chapter IV: 80 Blocks From Tiffany's

It’d only been a few days since Wisconsin got cooked and Dale lit the locker room on fire with his rally speech. But all that glory? Old news now. The “Game of the Week” was coming up fast, and it wasn’t just another Saturday. Ohio State was looming like a storm cloud, and Coach Danielson made sure practice felt like a damn boot camp.

Wasn’t no room for half-stepping. Every rep had to count. If you wasn’t getting lit up in scrimmage, you was somewhere running drills ‘til your lungs burned. Even the punter couldn’t loaf. Coach was on everybody’s ass.

Dale had moments where he thought maybe he’d called down a demon on himself when he told Coach to grind the squad harder. But he shook that soft shit out his head quick. This was the price of the next level, and he wasn’t about to tap out now. So, every day, Dale clocked in, locked in, dug through the fire.

But Wednesday night? That was for the boys.

Dale, Trey, and Zeke had plans. Word around campus was the Alphas were throwing their Halloween bash, and half the athletes were sliding through. The boys weren’t about to miss it.

Zeke showed up on some fly shit—dressed as Maximillian from Vampire in Brooklyn. Dude had the black overcoat, pinstripe suit, the red scarf tied just right. Wig laid with waves like he walked straight off Eddie Murphy’s set. Trey went left with it—leather vest, chain slinking heavy on his chest, dressed up as “Hollywood” Rock. Arrogant smirk to match.

And Dale? Man… Dale had everybody side-eyeing. He rocked an Ohio State Buckeyes shirt. Deadass.

Pulling up to the frat house, the party was already on tilt. Bass thumping through the walls, lights low, costumes everywhere—nurses, demons, Disney villains, all grinding and sweating under strobe lights.

Zeke looked around, wide grin splitting his face. “Damn, y’all! This joint lit.” He dabbed his chin, surveying the room. Then he turned to Dale and deadpanned. “But yo, Dale… really? A Buckeye shirt? You embarrass me, bro. Hope they boo your ass out the building.”

Dale shrugged, smirking. “Could’ve gone harder. Y’all lucky I ain’t pull the whole mascot uniform. I couldn't think of anything to come as, so why not the #1 enemy of this week?”

Trey eyed him, face twisted like he smelled something sour. “Nicca, you coulda worn anything. Anything. You came as the ops.” His eyes cut toward a pack of girls dressed like nurses. Lips curled, licking them slow. “But you know what? Forget it. I see some business I gotta handle.” Without another word, he slid into the crowd.

Zeke spotted a girl in the corner, thick thighs in fishnets. He chuckled, wagged his brows. “Sorry, Dale, but I’ma need to feast. You hold it down.” Then he vanished too.

Dale stood there alone, catching side-eyes left and right. Buckeye red made him stick out worse than a bad joke. He found his way to the kitchen, grabbed two Modelos, cracked one, and went back to the wall. For a minute, he let himself be the wallflower.

Didn’t take long for the teasing to start as a few more of the players from the team, catching his red shirt, laughing at him.

“What happened with you?” a sorority girl laughed behind him. “You lose a bet? You tryna get crucified or something?”

Dale smirked weakly. “Translation of my costume got lost on me, I guess.”

“Mhm.” She shoved a folded Huskies shirt into his hands. “Bathroom’s that way. Change, burn that Buckeye mess.”

“I paid good money for this.”

“Dale…” she gave him a look. No bite behind it, but the kind of look that said she wasn’t asking twice.

“Aight, you win.”

Minutes later, he emerged in the Huskies tee, crowd cheering him like he just scored a touchdown. Shoulders loosened. He blended better now, vibing as the Alphas broke into a step show, feet pounding in rhythm. Later, he spotted Zeke scarfing down pizza, beer in hand, grease glistening on his grin.

“You look like you having the time of your life. Where Trey at?” Dale asked.

Zeke shrugged mid-bite. “Ain’t seen him since he dipped with those nurses. Think he pulled it off?”

“Knowing his hoe ass? Probably. I'ma go look for him.”

Dale set out upstairs, music getting louder the higher he went. Doors cracked with smoke and laughter leaking out. A couple stumbled past him, still giggling. At the last door, he knocked—no answer—so he pushed it open.

And there was Trey, wilding out with two nurses in his bed.

“CLOSE THE DAMN DOOR, BRO!” Trey barked, sweat dripping off his chest.

Dale snapped out of his trance, shut it quick. “My bad, G. Do your thing.” He shook his head, trying to erase what he’d seen, but it was burned in there now.

He posted at the top of the stairs, scrolling his phone to distract himself. Messages from his folks. IG feed loaded with athletes flexing their NIL ads. Clarissa and her man carving pumpkins—Dale double-tapped anyway. His thumb hovered too long over a model’s page, eyes lingering.

“Ooooh, Dale got a girlfriend,” a voice teased over his shoulder.

Dale turned. A petite girl, out of place at this party. Blue contact in her eyes shining against her brown skin riddled with tats, framed by jet-black twists pulled in a messy bun. Goth fit: studded collar, skull jewelry, plaid skirt with a black crop. Looked like she walked out a Hot Topic ad.

“Chill,” Dale said, smirking. “Ain’t nothing to see here. Where you come from?”

“Rooftop. Got cold, figured it was time I climb back in here.” She plopped down beside him, grin playful but sharp. “I’m Tiffany. No need for names, I know who you are, QB.”

Dale raised a brow, eyes scanning her again. “You don’t look like this your scene.”

“Not really. I’m the DD. Gotta keep my girls in check before some thirsty dude scoops them up.”

“Respect.” Dale nodded. “So what’s your story? Haven't seen you around campus, you look like someone I'd recognize as you stand out.”

"Oh yeah? What makes you think I stand out?" She asked with hooded eyes and a slight smirk.

"I don't know, let's see. Black chick with blue eyes. Resting bitch face looks like it belongs on a wanted poster. Not really giving vibes of you embracing the macabre. You're like Wednesday Addams, but Monday, and everybody hate Mondays." Dale iterates with a low brow as Tiffany's face glee with a smile.

"Alright, alright, don't have to lay into me like that." She chuckled. "But nah, I'm not from round here. I don't even attend school here. My girlfriends invited to come through and see them. Just so happen this party was something of theirs they wanted to attend." She looks over at Dale, leaning in. leaning in. “I could ask you the same. You sitting here scrolling on IG like some simp instead of enjoying the party.”

“I ain’t no simp. Cut that noise.” Dale screwed his face up with no heat behind it, shaking his head. “I wore a Buckeye shirt earlier. Kinda killed my vibe.”

“Yeah, I saw. Real lame.” She smirked. “But you cute, so maybe they’ll let you live.”

They bantered, trading jabs and stories. Dale loosened up, laughed a little. Before long, IG handles got exchanged.

When Tiffany’s crew found her and tugged her toward the door, she flashed Dale one last smile. “Don’t go simping too hard on me, QB.” Then she was gone, disappearing into the crowd.

Alone again, Dale pulled his phone out, instinctively searching her profile. But before he tapped it, he noticed the notification. That IG model he’d liked earlier? She’d liked his pics back. And she sent a message.

One simple line.

“hey handsome…”

[djp73]

fuck ohio