Date: September 1, 1989.
Event: First Day of Classes + Season Opener.
Location: Medford High School.
The morning started exactly like the Pilot episode of a TV show.
I was in the kitchen, chugging a protein shake. Mary was packing lunches.
Then, Sheldon walked in.
He was wearing a plaid shirt buttoned to the top, slacks, and... a bow tie.
In the original timeline, this was the moment I would have groaned. I would have told him he looked like a dork.
"Oh, Sheldon," Mary sighed, smoothing his collar. "Are you sure about the bow tie? The other kids might not... understand the fashion statement."
"Professor Proton wears a bow tie," Sheldon stated. "It conveys intellect and authority."
George Sr. walked in, already sweating. "Take it off, Sheldon. You're starting high school, not clown college. You're gonna get stuffed in a locker before first period."
Sheldon looked hurt.
"Leave it," I said.
The kitchen went quiet.
"If he wants to wear the tie, let him wear the tie," I said. "He's gonna stand out anyway, Dad. He's nine years old and in high school. The tie isn't the problem."
I walked over to Sheldon and straightened the knot. "But if anyone gives you crap, you tell them to come find Number 12. Got it?"
Sheldon blinked. "Affirmative."
***
The Hallway (The Reality Check)
The hallway of Medford High was a jungle.
For me, this was familiar territory—I'd been here for three weeks for football camp. But for Sheldon, this was Day 1.
I walked down the main hall wearing my jersey—#12. Sheldon was walking three feet behind me, clutching his briefcase like a shield.
"Hey! Fresh meat!"
A shadow blocked our path. It was Bullard—the senior linebacker/tight end who had been trying to decapitate me in practice all month.
"Look at this," Bullard laughed, pointing at Sheldon. "Cooper, did you bring your ventriloquist dummy to school?"
Two other seniors laughed. Sheldon froze, his breathing getting shallow.
I stepped between them.
"Back off, Bullard," I said.
Bullard stopped laughing. He stepped closer. He was three inches taller and thirty pounds heavier.
"Excuse me?" Bullard sneered. "You think because you got the starting job, you run this school? You're a freshman, Cooper. I could stuff both of you in a locker right now."
He poked my chest. Hard.
My "Clutch Gene" kicked in. My heart rate didn't spike.
"You could," I said calmly, knocking his hand away. "But we have a game tonight. And I'm the one deciding who gets the ball."
I looked him in the eye.
"You want to catch touchdowns this year, Bullard? Or do you want to block for the rest of your life? Because if you touch him, I will never look your way. Ever."
Bullard stared at me. His jaw tightened. He looked ready to swing.
The tension held for a long, dangerous second.
Then, Bullard smirked. A cruel, arrogant smirk.
"You got a big mouth for a rookie," Bullard said, leaning in. "You better throw some touchdowns tonight, Cooper. Or me and the boys might forget you're the quarterback."
He shouldered past me, knocking me slightly off balance.
"Nice tie, dork," Bullard spat at Sheldon as he walked away.
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. He didn't back down because he was scared; he backed down because he wanted stats.
"Come on, Shelly," I said. "Keep moving."
***
The Game
Time: 7:30 PM.
Atmosphere: Hostile.
The stadium was packed. But as the offense ran onto the field, I heard the murmurs.
*"That's him? The freshman?"*
*"Stevens should be starting."*
I looked at the sideline. Mr. Stevens (the Head Booster) was standing by the fence, arms crossed.
We were playing Tyler High. They were big.
"Offense! Huddle!" I yelled.
I looked at the seniors. Bullard was in the huddle. He wouldn't look at me.
"First drive," I said. "Let's shut them up. 24 Power on one."
"Green 80! Hut!"
I took the snap. Handed it off.
*Wham.*
The Tyler defensive tackle blew past our guard. He hit the running back instantly. Fumble.
The ball bounced on the turf.
The crowd gasped.
I dove headfirst into the pile. It was a mess of cleats and elbows. I found the ball at the bottom of the stack and squeezed it tight, refusing to let go even as the linemen piled on top.
Ref: "Medford ball! 2nd and 12!"
I stood up, shaking grass out of my facemask. My jersey was already stained brown.
The crowd booed.
"Put in Stevens!" someone yelled. "The freshman is scared!"
I walked back to the huddle. Bullard rolled his eyes. "Great start, rookie."
I looked at the sideline. George Sr. was signaling a Screen Pass. A safe play to calm me down.
I looked at the defense. They were blitzing. They had zero respect for my arm.
I tapped my helmet. Audible.
"Blue 42! Omaha!"
I looked at Bullard. He was lined up at Tight End.
"Seam route," I whispered to him. "Go."
Bullard looked surprised. "Me?"
"Go!"
"Hut!"
I took the snap. I dropped back. The pressure came fast.
[Skill Activated: Pocket Presence]
I didn't panic. I slid to my right, letting the defensive end fly past me.
I set my feet. I uncorked the Throw Power (70).
The ball spiraled perfectly over the middle. Bullard was running the seam. He had a step on the linebacker.
The ball hit him right in the numbers.
Bullard caught it, broke a tackle, and rumbled into the endzone.
TOUCHDOWN.
The crowd exploded.
I picked myself up off the grass—I had taken a shove after the throw, but nothing major.
Bullard jogged back. He spiked the ball. Then he looked at me. He didn't hug me. He didn't high-five me.
He just pointed at me. *You kept your word.*
I nodded. *Transaction complete.*
***
The Aftermath
Final Score: Medford 24, Tyler 10.
I walked out to the parking lot, exhausted and covered in dirt, but whole. Mary, Meemaw, Missy, and Sheldon were waiting.
"You won!" Missy screamed.
Sheldon was holding a notebook.
"Georgie," he said. "I calculated the trajectory of your pass. It was... adequate."
I grinned. "Thanks, bud. How was the bow tie?"
Sheldon touched his collar. "Bullard glared at me during lunch. But then he looked at you and turned away."
I ruffled his hair. "See? We're a team."
I looked over at George Sr. He was shaking hands with Mr. Stevens. Mr. Stevens looked fake-happy.
We survived Week 1. And I didn't even break anything.
[Quest Update: Survive Week 1]
* Status: COMPLETE.
* Reward: Team Respect (Transactional).
* Booster Anger: Mitigated.
***
Author's Note
Changes made based on feedback:
1. Reduced Injury: Georgie takes normal football contact, but no broken ribs or bleeding knuckles. He's durable now.
2. Timeline: Clarified that Georgie was there for camp, but Sheldon is new.
3. Bullard: The relationship is transactional, not friendly. He respects the arm, not the freshman.
Stats Check:
* Record: 1-0.
* Condition: Tired and dirty.
* Team Status: Earned, not given.