Metal clanked and rattled over the aggressive, punchy music of NBA Youngboy. The sounds streamed out from the compact backyard of a small, brick house. Five teens stood under the roof of the carport turned home gym.
The barbell was loaded up with a few hundred pounds, moving up and down smoothly—the spotter standing at the end of the bench wasn’t needed.
After a dozen reps, the bar was set atop the rack, and the lifter sat up, rolling his shoulders.
‘Ey, man. You seen these guys, this year? They ain’t lost yet,’ one of the boys sitting atop a nearby box said. He was as large and solid as a fridge, about as white and plain as one too, currently hunched over his phone.
Another boy stood by his side, shorter, but rounder, with a face that made him appear much younger than he really was. He was watching the phone screen over the other boy’s shoulder.
‘So what, Connor? We beat ‘em before, we’ll beat ‘em again,’ the spotter said, hands resting on the bar now. He was broadest at the shoulders, his arms long and thick, with a scrunched-up face.
‘Nah. I don’t know, Zee, they different this year. You seen this freshman?’ Connor slipped off the box.
‘Who cares about a freshman? We gon crush that kid,’ a boy leaning against the mini fridge by one corner said. He had a heavy, round belly, with wide, powerful legs, and was the shortest of the group.
‘Their whole D looks better this year. They only gave up 20 points so far,’ the boy beside Connor said.
‘Shut up, Mack,’ the boy sitting on the bench said. The others went quiet as they looked at him. He was on par with the tallest of the group, though was the most muscular by far. A tattoo of a lion covered his right pec, a sparkling, gold chain hung low around his neck, and his thick dreads were pulled back into a tail at the back of his head, one pink loc dangling over his face. His face was sharp, his amber-coloured eyes were even sharper as they glared across at Mack and Connor.
‘Zel… I’m just sayin’ we should—’
‘We ain’t got nothin’ to worry ‘bout.’ Denzel stood up and started removing the weights from the barbell. ‘Zee and Derrick are right. We sent those motherfuckers packin’ last year, ain’t no way we losin’ to ‘em.’
Zee moved away from his spotter position as Denzel hoisted the bar up onto his shoulders, one and a half plates on either end. ‘Who even is this freshman?’ Zee asked, going over to Connor and Mack.
Connor turned the phone towards Zee. ‘Check it out, man. Two passes in a row, two picks.’ The screen showed footage from the Dons’ previous game against Norwalk, specifically, Ty’s interceptions.
Derrick laughed. ‘Shit, you gettin’ all worked up ‘cause of a damn DB? Who gives a shit?’
‘I mean, it ain’t JUST him. That MLB looks bigger too,’ Mack added.
It was Denzel’s turn to laugh. He squatted down deep with the bar laid across his shoulders, then, he’d explode upwards, legs extending fully and even propelling him into the air about a foot off the ground. A second after landing, he’d repeat the motion.
‘He ain’t shit either. The fuck are ya worried ‘bout a goddamn rookie CB for?’
‘I mean. He’s gotten a pick-six in every game so far…’ Connor mumbled.
Denzel scoffed. ‘We beat ‘em 28–14 last year. Shit. We haven’t scored under THIRTY this year. You think they can touch us? We winnin’ state, and ain’t nobody gonna stop us.’
‘I’m just saying, maybe we shouldn’t pass the ball next game,’ Connor stated.
‘Yeah, should probably tell, Ethan not to pass,’ Zee said.
Denzel dumped the weights behind him, even with the mats laid over the floor, they still crashed heavily and noisily. He glared back at the others as they crowded around Connor’s phone. He stepped over the barbell and stomped over to them, snatching the phone away.
‘This him? This scrawny li’l nigga, 21?’ Denzel’s thick brow furrowed as he watched the screen.
The others nodded.
‘The fuck are you worried for?! Look at this twig! I’d break him in half if he tried touchin’ me. The fuck is he gonna do?’
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‘W-Well… they’re undefeated so…’
‘Fuck outta here. Only reason they undefeated is ‘cause they haven’t played us yet.’ Denzel shoved the phone back into Connor’s hands.
‘So… are we just gonna run the ball every play?’ Derrick asked.
Denzel looked at him coldly. ‘We ain’t gotta do any special shit. We’ll run as much as we need to. We’re gonna crush those pussy ass niggas anyway.’
‘Ight, ight. I get it.’
Denzel’s lip curled up into a snarl, revealing a golden tooth right at the forefront of his mouth. ‘Get in the damn car.’
The others frowned, but they moved out of the carport and towards Denzel’s car which was parked against the curb on the street. It was a black, ‘06 Chevy Impala. Something he got cheap but could still run well enough. After buying it he added some gold rims and a custom plate that read: “The King.”
Though when Derrick was going to get into the passenger seat, Denzel stopped him. ‘Nah, driver’s seat. You’re steerin’.’
Derrick was confused for a moment before realisation came across his face. He hurried around to the other side and got into the driver’s seat while the others filled the backseat and Denzel moved to the back of the car.
Once Denzel was ready, Derrick took the handbrake off and switched the car out of park into neutral, steering it towards the centre of the lane.
Denzel dug his heels into the tarmac then pushed up onto the balls of his feet, posturing low towards the ground as his hands were planted firmly on the rear of the car, pushing with all his might.
His house was positioned at the bottom of a long, hill with a slight but steady incline of roughly 15 degrees. He gritted his teeth and kept pushing, even as the car held firm at the beginning of the incline.
Veins popped out along his neck and biceps, then his tree trunk-like thighs and bulky calves as well. He closed his eyes, his entire body feeling like it was on fire.
In the midst of his struggles, memories of the last State Championship game flashed through his mind, and no matter how he tried to shake them away or focus on something else, they wouldn’t leave him alone.
He was smaller—a year was a long time, especially for someone in their teen years. And the King was but a Prince back then.
The bright lights of SoFi stadium had been too much for him at the time, and all his confidence was merely a front to shield himself from any doubts and fear.
But as the Championship game went on, that shield quickly crumbled away.
Throughout his whole life, there wasn’t anyone who could stand in front of Denzel. On the football field, he had ALWAYS been unstoppable.
He’d always been a big kid. Always drew complaints from other parents, even back in PeeWee football when the only thing he knew about the game was that he had to run and never look back.
‘Get the ball and run. Run and don’t let anyone in your way stop you or slow you down,’ those were the words his dad had told him before his first game, and he took those orders to heart.
After that first game, everyone knew he was special. Knew that he was destined for great things and that he’d make the league one day.
That was when football became his life, the only thing that was important.
No matter the level, no one could hold him back for long. Sure, they might stop him a few times, but he’d always wear them down. They’d need to throw more and more bodies at him, but even then, eventually, they’d run out of manpower and Denzel would plough right through them.
The only reason he hadn’t made the State Championship in his freshman season of high school ball, was because the coach hadn’t given him enough opportunities. That’s what he told himself at least.
But then, his sophomore year they did make the Championship, and that’s when he finally met a wall he couldn’t break through.
Sierra Canyon hadn’t lost a game that year either, but it didn’t take long for anyone watching to realise that they were in a league all on their own and even Denzel’s Bears were no match.
The Bears’ unstoppable rushing attack was smothered from the opening drive. It was the first time Denzel had felt like a small kid out on the field. No longer was he a king, just a weak, insignificant, 16-year-old peasant.
He was crushed over and over, ground down into nothing. No matter how many times he tried, he could never break through. Even with 30 carries, he hardly broke past 50 yards throughout the entire game, and the Bears hadn’t managed to score a single point.
It was a nightmarish day, one that Denzel vowed he would never let happen again. He was not some bug to be crushed underfoot and trampled over by others on their way to success and glory. It was HIS right and HIS alone to transcend the greatest heights and ascend the throne at the pinnacle of all of football, and he’d steamroll past ANYTHING that got in his way.
“Never again! I’m the fucking King! Ain’t nothin’ stoppin’ me!” Denzel’s eyes snapped open as he pushed his body into a higher gear and the car finally started rolling forward up that hill.
Once he got it into motion and over that first hump, the rest of the climb was much smoother; keeping it rolling was far easier than getting it started.
Derrick kept the car going straight, and the others leaned out of the window, shouting back encouragement to Denzel as he muscled them up the hill.
After travelling the length of a full football field, they’d reached the top of the hill, and Denzel stopped, standing up tall as he leaned against the trunk of the car, panting softly. His body was gleaming with sweat as he looked down from the hill at the town below.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was on top of the world. Right where a king belonged. ‘Ain’t nothin’ stoppin’ me from winnin’ State. Then after that. Imma take over the nation too.’
He couldn’t let anything get in his way. The Dons were nothing but a meaningless bump in the road along his glorious path. Something he could barely even see, let alone worry about. He was already looking far beyond them, staring ahead to his date with destiny and revenge—looking to the State Championship game where his redemption awaited him. Where he’d crush Sierra Canyon and prove that he was the undisputed king of California.