Chapter 73: Pure Domination

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"We can see Coach Thomas signaling from the BHHS sideline. The Normans are preparing a substitution... wait. Why is Nolan Callahan here? He is standing on the sideline. Is he replacing Reese?"

The stadium announcer sounded genuinely confused.

As the words spread through the field, the home crowd erupted. Then the noise sharpened into something closer to cursing.

Canoga Park High’s coaches and substitutes immediately surrounded the officials to protest.

"If Nolan Callahan goes into this game, we walk!" Canoga Park’s head coach, a hard-looking middle-aged man, shouted as he slammed a water bottle to the ground.

The game stopped for about a minute while the officials checked the paperwork.

"The officiating crew has confirmed it," the announcer finally said, his voice sinking. "Nolan Callahan was listed on the pregame roster. That means he is eligible to play."

Nolan turned toward Thomas.

Thomas was wearing a private little grin.

Of course he had thought of it. He had already arranged everything.

The moment Nolan stepped onto the field, the Normans who had been drowning in despair came back to life.

Nolan was here.

Daylight had returned.

Only Reese still looked dazed. To be fair, he had looked dazed since the first quarter.

Canoga Park was not a weak Burbank-style opponent. The Hunters had won their league, and their pressure scheme had forced Reese into mistake after mistake.

"Sit down for a while." Nolan patted his back.

"Oh." Reese nodded blankly.

He seemed to want to say something, then swallowed it and walked off.

With Reese gone, Nolan officially took control of the game. The crowd poured abuse over him from every side.

"You slept with your teammate’s mom!"

"Cheap little fraud!"

"You stole Peyton Manning’s MVP!"

Nolan kept his face calm.

’Watch the wording. I took it in broad daylight. That is not stealing.’

Canoga Park’s players did not look any kinder. Every face on the field carried the same anger, as if Nolan had insulted each of them personally.

In their eyes, this was pure tactical deception. They had built their game plan around Reese, and BHHS had sprung Nolan on them after the lead was huge.

That anger lit the Hunters up. Their coaches made rapid substitutions from the sideline, strengthening the middle of the defense. They clearly wanted to stop the inside power runs Nolan had copied during the All-Star Game.

Boar snapped the ball.

Nolan saw Flea and Matic crossing into their routes. A passing window was about to appear.

He ignored it.

He kept the ball and drove straight into the strengthened middle.

If they had reinforced it, that was where he wanted to hit.

The purpose was simple. Attack the place they trusted most. Make them feel the gap between them. Break the confidence first, then the scoreboard.

Nolan ran with absolute faith in his body, one arm raised like a charging knight.

Unlike the All-Star Game, these defenders showed enormous courage. They came straight at him.

So Nolan answered differently.

Just before contact, he spun with startling smoothness, slipping between two converging defenders like Houdini leaving a locked box.

First level gone.

The next wave was waiting. Defenders closed from front, back, left, and right.

Nolan showed his left shoulder and drove forward. The collision knocked one defender off balance, and Nolan burst through the gap.

Second level gone.

Upfield, the safety lowered into a crouch, center of gravity low, ready to spring.

Nolan changed direction three times in a row.

The safety fell for all three.

Goodbye.

Third level gone.

Now only one player remained in front of him, the Hunters’ last safety. To either side of him, not far away, two Normans receivers were running free.

In other words, Nolan could have thrown to either one for an easy touchdown.

"You got the nerve to take me one-on-one?" the safety shouted. He knew the situation too. This was less about stopping the play than defending the team’s pride.

"Come on," Nolan said.

The safety did not have the physical advantage, but the last man in a defense was usually one of the most experienced players on the field.

The instant Nolan accelerated, the safety charged too, roaring as he came.

Nolan roared back.

The distance collapsed. Nolan could see the man’s face twisted behind the mask, strained with effort.

The safety spread both arms to wrap him.

At that instant, Nolan showed his core strength. He planted, exploded upward, and raised his right leg in a hurdler’s motion.

He flew over the safety’s head.

Pride did not mean much against overwhelming force.

Nolan had meant to crush their morale, but when he crossed the goal line, he did not celebrate by mocking them. He did not backpedal into the end zone. He did not taunt.

He walked in, turned, and applauded the Hunters’ defense.

It was not pity.

It was genuine respect.

They were league champions too. They had prepared for this postseason for months. Their effort was built from sweat, late nights, bruises, and hope.

Effort itself had no social class.

Nolan’s gesture drew applause from the stands.

Most of the insults faded.

The Normans had been standing still, stunned by the one-man run they had just witnessed. Only now did they remember to clap along.

The Hunters answered with applause of their own.

For a strange moment, the field held something almost harmonious.

On the sideline, Thomas clapped too.

Part of it was for the crushing talent Nolan had just displayed.

Part of it was for the change in him.

Thomas was Nolan’s coach. He had seen every stage of the boy’s growth. At first, Nolan had only been a gifted brute who barely understood football rules.

Now there was something else on him.

The bearing of a real king.

After that, the rest of the game lost most of its suspense. Nolan was not only a blade on offense. He became the anchor of the defense too, returning to defensive end and even recording the first interception of his playing career.

The Normans chased down two touchdowns in the third quarter, then two more in the fourth, adding a final two-point conversion to finish the comeback.

They escaped.

Near the end of the game, a wave of media arrived at Canoga Park’s football field. Reporters, camera crews, field hosts, and photographers poured in almost at once.

The print side included The Los Angeles Times, the Los Angeles Daily News, the San Fernando Valley Sun, and several smaller local papers.

The television crews included Prime Ticket, NBC 4, KTLA 5, and a handful of local and regional sports outlets.

There were also recruiting magazines and high-school sports publications.

More than a dozen media groups had come for one person.

Nolan Callahan.

The young player who had just dominated the All-Star Game had somehow appeared in another game almost immediately afterward. Once the media received the tip, they rushed over.

After all, Nolan had missed the awards ceremony. This would be his first interview after the All-Star Game.

The moment the game ended, reporters surrounded him so tightly the scene nearly turned chaotic.

"Nolan, you won Offensive Player of the Game and MVP at the All-Star Game. How do you evaluate your performance?"

"Peyton Manning spoke well of you in his NBC interview this morning. Is there anything you want to say back?"

"At only eighteen, Cris Collinsworth called you one of the most talented football players of the past thirty years. What is your reaction?"

Nolan kept his patience and answered them one by one.

"We meet again," Penny Webb said when her turn came.

The Prime Ticket field reporter was dressed almost exactly as she had been the last time Nolan saw her: black T-shirt, denim jeans, pageant-born posture, and a figure he could appreciate purely as scenery.

Nolan deliberately left her and Jim from The Los Angeles Times for last.

He had been following the coverage around him. Prime Ticket and The Los Angeles Times had given him the most positive treatment, and giving them slightly better access in exchange for more exposure was a clean trade.

Both of them understood it and nodded often.

Jim had been the first reporter to give Nolan a serious feature, so he did not look especially surprised. They had already worked together.

Penny was different. She was a low-status reporter inside her station. Otherwise, she would not have been sent out to cover high-school athletes.

Being favored by Nolan Callahan could become a turning point in her career.

The logic was simple. If she got the better interview this time, the station would be more likely to send her again next time. If Nolan reached a major game, her status in the newsroom would rise with him.

The premise was that she had to secure his favor first.

The interview went smoothly. Nolan spoke generously about the All-Star Game and explained what had gone through his mind during the sliding two-point conversion. That material was valuable. Years from now, people might still replay that clip.

Penny was delighted.

"One more thing," Nolan said suddenly. "I do not know what your station has planned next."

He had said your station, not you.

Penny did not have the authority to represent Prime Ticket, so she could only answer around the question.

"No sports show invitation?" Nolan asked, brow tightening.

"There probably will be one. The exact time..."

"No prime placement? Not even a few seconds in a popular slot?"

"I will fight with the editors to keep as much of your footage as I can."

"Fight, not suggest. And definitely not order." Nolan looked at her. "You probably cannot even get a real meeting with the producers."

Penny fell silent.

"I understand."

Nolan had already decided to focus on other television outlets next time. This reporter had a pretty face and a strong body, but she could not give him enough exposure.

Right now, he needed fame more than he needed a beautiful sports reporter.

With fame, beautiful sports reporters all over the country would be within reach.

Trade ended.

"The interview is over," Nolan said. "You can go."

Penny was unwilling, but she had no leverage. She turned toward the exit.

Just before leaving the locker room, she stopped and looked back.

"I have a request."

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