son tryna complete the rainbow you saying?Captain Canada wrote: ↑23 Oct 2024, 14:08Kam hooking up with Zoe is going to be spinning in the streets for months
Requiem for a Broken Dream.
Requiem for a Broken Dream.
Requiem for a Broken Dream.
Season 8, Episode 7
The locker room buzzed with a nervous energy, a palpable excitement that hung in the air like static before a storm. Kam sat on the bench, his fingers tapping an erratic rhythm against his thigh pads as he stared at the floor, lost in thought. The din of his teammates' voices faded into a distant hum as he visualized the plays, the field, the roar of the crowd.
A hand clasped his shoulder, startling him from his reverie. Kam looked up to see Brady, the team's hulking tight end, standing over him with an uncharacteristic grin stretching across his usually stoic face.
"Hey man, you look like you’re about to head to the fucking gallows," Brady chuckled, his deep voice cutting through the noise. "This ain’t Kentucky no more bro, you’re not going out there by yourself."
Kam was taken aback, surprised by Brady's sudden chattiness. The tight end was known for his silence, communicating mostly through grunts and nods. But now, his eyes sparkled with an infectious enthusiasm that Kam couldn't help but feel.
Around them, the locker room pulsed with life. Offensive linemen slapped each other's shoulder pads, their laughter booming off the walls. Wide receivers adjusted their gloves, fist-bumping and trading playful jabs. Even Coach Moore seemed looser than usual, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he conferred with his assistants.
"That’s for sure," Kam nodded to Brady, a slow smile spreading across his face. "When I played them two years ago, man, that was a fucking beating. I ain’t had nobody like Dez though.”
As if on cue, the junior captain emerged from his secluded corner, the war paint still fresh on his face as he screamed towards the roof.
“If God is with me, who shall I fear?!”
“The fighting Wolverines, motherfucker!” Cooper joined him, clashing heads as the rest of the team began to form around them.
“I said if God is with me, who shall I fear?!”
“The fighting Wolverines, motherfucker!”
Kam felt the tension in his chest loosen, replaced by a surge of pride and determination. He joined in the chant, his voice blending with his teammates'. In that moment, surrounded by the brothers he'd battled alongside all summer, Kam knew they were ready.
“Break these motherfuckers down before I lose my shit!” Desmond barked to no one in particular as Devon, the leader of the defense, stepped forward.
“There’s a price for fucking greatness,” he told the group, “We pay the price every fucking day, every fucking lift, every fucking sprint. Tonight, it’s their fucking turn to pay the motherfucker piper! Hit a motherfucker in his shit until he fucking likes it, you got me?!”
MICH (1-1, 0-0) | 7 | 0 | 0 | 7 | 14
UGA (1-2, 0-0) | 7 | 3 | 7 | 0 | 17
MICH QB C.J. Carr: 14-21, 193 yds, 2 TD, INT
MICH HB Kamaldeen Seidu-Harris: 25 att, 152 yds, fumble (recovered)
MICH WR Josh Boger: 5 rec, 79 yds, 2 TD
UGA QB Tommy Newman: 14-20, 175 yds, TD
UGA HB Brian Hagg: 15 att, 73 yds
UGA WR Sacovie White: 3 rec, 41 yds
Season Stats 53 att, 335 yds, 4 TD, 3 rec, 23 yds
Requiem for a Broken Dream.
Spamming that throw it to me button
Requiem for a Broken Dream.
Season 8, Episode 8
Kam's stomach heaved again as he gripped the cold porcelain of the toilet bowl. The acrid taste of bile burned his throat, his body shaking with each painful retch.
He had blown it. The entire game, lost because of his stupid, selfish decision. The memory of the final play replayed in his mind on an endless loop - the desperation as the clock ticked down, the roar of the crowd, the weight of the football as it left the quarterback's hands. Kam had called for the pass, waving his arms wildly, convinced he could make the catch despite the defender hanging overhead. But he wasn't open. Not even close. The ball never made it to him, landing softly in the defender’s arm. The offense would never see the field again as Georgia was able to run out the clock, putting an early end to any hopes of an undefeated season.
Wiping his mouth with a trembling hand, Kam pushed himself to his feet. His legs felt weak, knees threatening to buckle as he stumbled to the sink. He splashed cold water on his face, unable to meet his own gaze in the smudged mirror.
Taking a deep breath, Kam pushed open the bathroom door. He braced himself for angry glares and bitter recriminations. Instead, he found the locker room buzzing with energy. Guys were animated yet focused as they broke down key moments from the game.
“I might just sell the inside a little bit more when we play corners like these,” Josh told C.J., the team’s starting quarterback that has missed the opener with an injury he suffered in camp.
“We’re not going to see a lot of those guys,” C.J. scoffed.
C.J.’s eyes caught Kam, acknowledging him with a nod. Kam wanted to sink into the carpet and disappear, shame and regret lacing his every step. He expected C.J. to look away but he kept his gaze, almost inviting him over to the conversation with Josh.
“That stretch game was killing them,” C.J. dapped up Kam, bringing him in for a hug.
“My fault, gang,” Kam muttered, “I owe y’all boys one.”
“Ain’t no owing shit nigga,” Josh chimed in, “You the motherfucker that was toting that bitch, got us in that hoe, we just need to finish that bitch off.”
“You did your thing,” Blake interjected, “I missed some blocks, even Desmond was getting his ass fucking worked like a little bitch. I can’t wait for film review, coach is going to eat you up.”
“See the type of nigga you is?” Desmond pointed towards Blake as he shook his head with a smile, “To think I almost threw you the alley the other night.”
“Everyone’s slept with Allie bro,” Blake laughed, “It’s like shooting in the motherfucking ocean.”
…
The early morning mist clung to the damp grass as Kam's cleats dug into the turf. His lungs burned, chest heaving as he pushed himself forward. The rhythmic pounding of feet surrounded him, a chorus of labored breaths and grunts filling the air.
It was barely light enough to see the white lines marking the field. No coaches barked orders, no whistles shrieked. Just the team, running sprints in silent solidarity after yesterday's crushing defeat.
Kam's legs felt like lead, muscles screaming in protest with each stride. But he didn't slow down. Couldn't slow down. Any allusion that the team was taking the loss in stride, almost too well was quickly broken when they all received the text message from Desmond as soon as they landed in the airport.
He glanced to his left, seeing Josh keeping pace beside him. The receiver's face was set in grim determination, sweat already beading on his forehead. To his right, C.J. ran with fluid grace despite his recent injury, setting the pace for the group.
As they reached the end zone, Kam's lungs felt ready to burst. But there was no rest, no water break. They simply turned and sprinted back the other way. The team moved as one unit, no one falling behind or racing ahead.
The sky slowly brightened as they ran, pinks and oranges bleeding across the horizon. Kam lost count of how many sprints they'd done. His vision narrowed to the grass in front of him, the white lines blurring as he pushed himself to keep going.
…
Kam's legs trembled as he stumbled up the worn stone steps of the library, his muscles still burning from the grueling morning workout. The ancient building loomed before him, its weathered brick facade a stark contrast to the sleek, modern athletic facilities he usually frequented. He hesitated at the entrance, his hand hovering over the ornate brass door handle.
This was unfamiliar territory. The library, and much of the campus, had always been off-limits, a consequence of his academic probation and the strict campus restrictions that came with it. But today was different. Kam pushed open the heavy door and stepped inside, the musty scent of old books and polished wood assaulted his senses. Sunlight streamed through tall windows, dust motes dancing in the golden beams. The quiet hum of whispered conversations and shuffling papers felt alien after the raucous energy of the locker room and the pounding of his own heartbeat during their morning run.
Kam's eyes darted around, searching for the room that was waiting for him. He felt exposed, vulnerable, as if everyone could see the weight of Saturday's loss hanging on his shoulders. A few students glanced up from their books, their eyes widening in recognition before quickly looking away.
He made his way through the maze of bookshelves and study carrels, his footsteps echoing on the marble floor. The room number Zoe had texted him swam in his mind: 307. Third floor. He found the stairs and began to climb, each step sending a fresh wave of soreness through his overworked muscles.
By the time Kam reached the third floor, he was nearly fifteen minutes late. He paused outside room 307, taking a deep breath to steady himself. The loss, the early morning run had him on edge already, frustration still bubbling inside and that definitely was not the energy that this meeting called for.
Conversation died abruptly as all eyes turned to him. Zoe sat at the head of the table, her jet black hair pulled back in a messy bun, the most not-put-together look he had seen her in. Several other students—Kam recognized a few of them from the protest—were scattered around the table, notebooks and laptops open before them.
"Kam," Zoe said, her voice a mix of shock and something else—relief, maybe? "I didn't think you'd make it."
He shifted uncomfortably under the weight of their stares. "Yeah, uh, sorry I'm late. We had practice this morning and…”
"It's fine," Zoe cut him off, gesturing to an empty chair. "We're just glad you’re here.”
Kam slid into the chair, acutely aware of sidelong glances from the other students.
Zoe cleared her throat, “Well, the whole point of this is to be informal and straight to the point. I’ve invited a few students that have some concerns about your presence here on campus.”
“They think I killed someone,” Kam cut through it all, the shock evident on their faces, “I didn’t, Lexington police said I didn’t, none of the witness said I did.”
“As a woman, I know the difference between not being charged and being found not guilty,” one of the students quickly interjected.
“And as a black man, they’ve hung motherfuckers for less,” Kam sat up in his chair, “If we’re going to talk, let’s talk.”
Kam’s comments continued to make everyone in the room uneasy as they all looked towards Zoe to say something, “I think what they’re getting as is even with the lack of a charge, some feel like you have a violent history.”
“Stop hiding behind that shit,” Kam looked away from Zoe and towards the group of students, all avoiding eye contact with him, “It’s not some people, it’s not some students, it’s y’all.”
“We’re not the only ones,” another student, who didn’t look a day over sixteen years old, spoke up, “This isn’t…some random university. This is the University of Michigan, we should ourselves to a higher standard. I did not bust my ass, if we’re speaking frankly, to share a classroom with someone that was shooting up a club.”
“Are you scared right now?” Kam looked towards him before moving to the next, “Are you scared? How about you? You feel pretty fucking terrified right now?”
“This is a waste of time,” the girl that had spoken up earlier got up, collecting her things as she shook her head, “He’s even worst than I thought. This is a poor reflecting on you and your presidency, Zoe.”
“Jan…” Zoe opened her mouth but it was too late, the rest of the students joining her as they exited the room until it was just her, Ethan and Kam.
“That went…somehow worse than I expected,” Ethan scoffed, “Who’s great idea was this again?”
“Ethan,” she shot him a look before turning towards Kam, “Thanks for coming…I’ll…I don’t know, we’ll think of something else.”
“I’m not going to beg people to feel comfortable around me,” Kam shrugged, “If that’s how they want to carry it, let them carry it that way. But this little probation shit y’all got me on, it ain’t real and y’all know it. I’m not fucking hurrying home to get something eat and have to rush back to campus anymore. I’m going to be around this motherfucker, whether y’all like it or not and at the end of the day, I’m gone in two fucking months so y’all figure this shit out.”
Requiem for a Broken Dream.
Kam aint never beating the not clutch allegations
Also, not beating other allegations on campus
Also, not beating other allegations on campus
Requiem for a Broken Dream.
Season 8, Episode 9
The old farmhouse creaked and groaned under the weight of so many guests, its weathered floorboards protesting with each footstep. The air was thick with the mingled scents of coffee, cinnamon rolls, and the faint mustiness of age that clung to the walls.
His grandmother Jolie fussed over Kam, piling his plate high with scrambled eggs and bacon. "I don’t know what they got you eating," she says, shaking her head at the sight of his narrowed face. Kam managed a weak smile, his stomach churning too much to eat.
Outside, the autumn wind whistled through the trees, scattering golden leaves across the overgrown lawn. Kam's younger siblings, Katie and Manu, pressed their faces against the window, marveling at the rural scenery so different from their city home.
“They’re flying back that night?” Kwame asked Jamal’s dad, Leon, as they enjoyed their morning brew.
“He said he’ll try to stop by,” Leon said of his son as he looked around the rented house, “Nice place y’all rented out, appreciate you guys inviting us.”
“I’m appreciative of what you’ve done for my boy,” Kwame shook his hand, “I wasn’t always there so I know he’s not where he’s at without someone like you by his side.”
“He’s a good kid,” they both looked towards Kam, far from the baby boy that Kwame and Macie took home that night.
Leon was there, his wife Patricia being Macie’s best friend since elementary school. He had always felt a special connection to Kam, a sense of responsibility towards him as Macie was figuring it out by herself once Kwame left and before she met Cory. He wasn’t sure how he’d feel tomorrow when his son and Kam would clash on the football field, a far larger stage than their previous two matchups in Lexington and Louisville.
“I know Kam’s excited to see him,” Kwame said of Jamal, “I can’t even imagine them two playing in that giant stadium, man.”
“I couldn’t ask for anything more,” Leon shook his head, “I’m so freaking proud of them.”
“I can,” Kwame scoffed, “When those boys get drafted, get their degrees, we did our job, bro. You did a great fucking job.”
…
“Let’s go to war, fuck nigga!”
The chatter of the crowd slowly increased as the fans began to fill the stadium that served as a backdrop to Kam and Jamal’s meeting at midfield. They shared a dap and a tight hug before returning to the matter at hand.
“You ain’t never beat me, nigga,” Kam scoffed, “Not never in your life and it sure as shit ain’t starting today.”
“I’m putting on for the city today, you got me fucked up, little nigga!”
Their antics drew attention from their respective teammates, a bubble of levity in the tense pre-game atmosphere. Kam was about to retort when a heavy hand landed on his shoulder pad.
"Yo, Kam, cool it bruh," Kyree's deep voice rumbled from behind him. The team's starting center towered over both Kam and Jamal, "The coaches already looking this way, save that shit for the game.”
Kam glanced toward the sideline, catching sight of Coach Reeves' disapproving glare. He shook his head as he looked up towards Kyree.
“I’m on ten today, nigga,” Kam aggressively clapped his hands as he began walking towards the group of Rutgers’ players going through their warmups, “If any nigga feel some way about it, show me you tough, fuck nigga!”
“You’re sorry as fuck nigga!” yelled one of the Rutgers’ players as they began skipping towards Kam, soon joined by a mob until they were face to face at midfield.
“Yeah, we fucking on Yasmine tonight, hoe ass nigga!” yelled another, the mere mention of her name catching Kam’s attention.
“I’ve smoked niggas for less, fuck nigga!” Kam held his finger to their face, taking note of their jersey number, “Aight, seven, you gonna have to stand on that!”
“We good, we good, we good,” Jamal tried to break it up, holding his guys back.
Kam’s calvary soon arrived as the offensive line, both starters and backups, were now at his side along with a few other players. The coaches sprinted in their direction, trying to stop it before it got out of hand.
“Aight, seven! I’m going to remember that! Don’t be scared now, baby. I’m on ten, fuck nigga, ain’t no turning me down!” Kam yelled with a smile as the coaches began pushing their respective teams to their side of the field.
…
Yassy fidgeted with the hem of her Michigan sweatshirt, stealing glances at Lana's effortlessly stylish outfit. Her long, glossy hair cascaded over her shoulders, catching the afternoon sunlight in a way that made Yassy feel plain in comparison. She cleared her throat, searching for a safe topic of conversation.
"So, um, how long have you known Kam?" Yassy asked, immediately regretting the question as she realized it only highlighted the depth of Lana's connection to her boyfriend.
Lana's lips curved into a nostalgic smile. "Oh, god, since we were kids. We practically grew up together in Jersey. I've got some embarrassing stories about him from middle school that would make you laugh."
Yassy forced a chuckle, her stomach knotting with a mixture of jealousy and insecurity. She couldn't help but wonder if Kam ever looked at Lana and saw what could have been, if things had been different. She had learned her lesson with Ashley and was now wondering if the same thing had happened — or was happening — with Lana.
"I can imagine," Yassy managed, her voice tight. "I'm sure you two have a lot of great memories."
Lana nodded, her eyes distant for a moment before she turned to Yassy with a bright smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "All three of us, really. But hey, tell me about you! Kam mentioned you're pre-med, right? That must be so exciting."
It was Yassy's turn to smile, though the expression felt more like a grimace. "Yeah, it's... it's challenging, but I love it. I've always wanted to be a doctor, you know?"
Lana's face fell slightly, and she looked aimlessly towards the field. "That's amazing. Really. NYU was beating my ass and I wasn’t even pre-med. I had a year left and I just couldn’t do that shit anymore.”
The admission hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken judgments and insecurities. Yassy felt a pang of guilt for her earlier jealousy, realizing that Lana was grappling with her own demons.
"College isn't for everyone," Yassy said softly, trying to bridge the gap. "What are you up to now?"
Lana shrugged, her eyes still fixed on the field. "I’m doing an internship with this television show, it’s out in the middle of nowhere and might actually be worse than NYU.”
Yassy nodded, unsure of how to respond. The crowd around them suddenly erupted in cheers as the teams took the field for kickoff. Both women leaned forward, grateful for the distraction.
...
"You lame as fuck," Kam muttered to the linebacker as he walked past him, his comment during the pregame scuffle still fresh in his mind, "Say that shit again, pussy nigga."
"Bitch, fuck you, ain't nobody scared," he stepped towards Kam, who quickly swiped at his face.
"Break it up! Break it up!" yelled the official, getting in between the two, "That's enough!"
"I'm going to see you after the game fuck nigga," Kam barked at him as he trotted towards the endzone to celebrate the touchdown with his teammate, "I don't want to hear shit about no fucking pleas!"
...
Kam ran his helmet into Jamal's chest, trying to knock him back before spinning away and looking for the ball. He kept his head on a swivel as he chased after the defender that had intercepted C.J.'s pass, acutely aware of his surroundings and that this was the perfect opportunity for an opponent to get a cheap shot in.
The defender was tackled and as the defense went to celebrate in the endzone, many of them peeled off their route to get in Kam's face.
"Talk that shit now, pussy nigga!" yelled one of them as Jamal tried to mediate the peace, pushing Kam away from the mob.
"Mal can't save you, fuck nigga!" yelled another, "We definitely fucking on Yasmine tonight, bitch ass nigga!"
...
Kam's eyes widened as he saw the edge get sealed perfectly, creating an alley for him to follow his fullback towards the sideline. Josh was engaged with the corner, who had left the sidelines exposed as Kam reached top speed. He kept churning his legs and pumping his arms as he exploded into open field, nothing but green gas separating him in the endzone.
He looked up towards the jumbotron, weary of the corner that had peeled off and was now in pursuit. He kept his eyes on the safety that was hawking him down as hell before both players finally converged and he was brought down to the turf.
"That's what a million dollar running back looks like, sorry ass nigga!" Kam yelled to the defense, tossing the ball to the referee who shot him a glare.
Exhausted, he tapped his helmet as he walked towards the sideline to claps on the shoulder pads and helmet.
"You're slow as shit," Coach Reeves remarked with a smile, "That's a house call!"
...
Kam dove towards the pile, trying to punch the ball out as a mess of bodies formed around him. He looked up in disappointment as the defender still had the ball, holding it out in celebration as they sprinted towards the sideline.
Kam punched the crowd, hurting his hand in the process as he got to his feet and started jogging towards the sideline.
"Come on CJ! Lock in bro!" he shouted towards the quarterback who acknowledged him with a nod.
"He's good," Desmond motioned for Kam to calm down, "We'll get this shit rolling, I fucking promise you that."
...
"Touchdown Michigan! What a throw from C.J. Carr to extend Michigan's lead!"
...
"That's what I'm fucking talking about!" Kam jumped on C.J.'s back, nearly folding the quarterback, "Show these niggas who the fuck you is, nigga!"
"I got you," C.J. smiled, tapping Kam on the helmet, "It's your turn now, bro! Finish this shit off!"
...
"This is why I'm fucking here!" Kam yelled to the sidelines, signaling the first down as he looked up towards the scoreboard, nine minutes separating him from an emotional victory.
...
Kam bounced the run to the outside only to see Jamal in pursuit, his strides matching Kam's almost perfectly as he launched into him. Kam tried to extend his arm to execute a stiff arm but Jamal was well versed in his ways, shooting towards his legs and taking him down with ease.
"Stop running, bitch ass nigga!" Jamal told Kam, "You ain't going fucking nowhere!"
Kam couldn't help but smile and shake his head as he peeled himself off the turf, "Check the scoreboard, dumb ass."
"I don't give a fuck," Jamal got closer to Kam as they began their walk back to the huddle, "This first round tape I'm putting on right now."
"That's for sure," Kam nodded, sharing a headbutt with his childhood teammate, "Good fucking game, nigga."
RU (3-1, 1-1) | 7 | 10 | 3 | 6 | 26
MICH (2-1, 1-0) | 7 | 14 | 7 | 3 | 31
RU QB Trevor Dawsey: 13-226 yds, TD, INT
RU HB Carl Landry: 17 att, 87 yds, TD, fumble
RU LB Jamal Thompson: 12 tkl
MICH QB CJ Carr: 13-21, 274 yds, 3 TD, 2 INT, sacked twice
MICH HB Kamaldeen Seidu-Harris: 26 att, 166 yds
MICH TE Brady Prieskorn: 6 rec, 101 yds, TD
Season Stats 79 att, 501 yds, 4 TD, 3 rec, 23 yds
Remaining Schedule FCS West, Oregon, at Indiana, at Iowa, at UCLA, at #6 Penn State, at Michigan State, vs. Illinois, vs. #10 Ohio State
Requiem for a Broken Dream.
Ohio State gonna punish these boys. Lawd almighty.
Requiem for a Broken Dream.
Stacking up the yards. Gotta get in the end zone though