The opening kickoff sailed through the California evening air, and I watched from the sideline as our return team fielded it at the fifteen-yard line. Derek caught it clean and managed to fight his way up to the twenty-eight before getting tackled by three Serra defenders.
Here we go. Time to see what we're really made of.
Cameron jogged onto the field with the first-team offense, his gold captain's armband catching the stadium lights. I strapped on my helmet and followed him out, my white compression shirt feeling tight and ready under my shoulder pads.
"Let's fucking go, offense!" Coach Rivera yelled from the sideline. "Set the goddamn tone early!"
The cameras were positioned perfectly to catch our first drive. I could see one cameraman on the sideline following our huddle, and another one up in the stands getting wide shots of the stadium.
"Alright, y'all," Cameron said in the huddle, his voice calm but intense. "Twelve personnel, Y-option comeback. Jakari, if they're playing off, sit down in the soft spot. If they're pressing, break it back hard."
I nodded, studying the Serra defense as they lined up. Their cornerback was a massive kid - 6'5", probably 190 pounds, moving like a damn gazelle. This was Jaylen Watson, their four-star corner committed to LSU. Kid was already getting looks from NFL scouts as a junior.
"You that bitch-ass transfer from Chicago?" Watson called out, clapping his hands right in front of my face mask. "Welcome to real football, boy! You about to get locked the fuck up!"
Keep talking, big man. I love when they talk.
"We'll see about that," I shot back, clapping right back at him. "Y'all all sound the same I swear."
The ball was snapped, and I released with a quick stutter step before driving upfield. Watson was playing about seven yards off, respecting my speed but trying to stay in position. I sat down in the soft spot between him and the linebacker just like Cameron called.
The pass came fast and clean. I caught it with soft hands, immediately turned upfield, and Watson came flying down to make the tackle. But I spun out of his arm tackle and picked up nine yards before the safety came down.
"That's how we fucking start!" Tyler yelled from his position.
"Lucky ass catch!" Watson yelled, getting back up. "That shit won't happen again!"
First catch on camera. That felt smooth.
Second down and one. Cameron audibled at the line when he saw Serra bringing an extra rusher.
"Hot! Hot! Jakari, slant!"
I adjusted my route immediately, releasing inside with a quick jab step. Watson was late reacting to the audible because he was still talking shit, and I had two steps on him when the ball arrived. I caught it in stride and turned upfield.
"MOVE, BITCH!" I yelled as I stiff-armed Watson and picked up fifteen yards before getting pushed out of bounds.
"FIRST DOWN!" the ref called, and I could hear our sideline erupting.
"That's what I'm fucking talking about!" Coach Rivera yelled. "Keep moving the chains!"
I got up and clapped right in Watson's face as he was getting up. "What was that about locking me up?"
"Fuck you, Chicago!" Watson yelled back. "I'm just getting started!"
The drive continued with more chirping. Every play, Watson was talking, and I was talking right back. Cameron found Tyler on a twelve-yard out over their other corner, Darius Johnson, a three-star commit to Oregon. Derek picked up eight yards on a draw play. I caught another pass, a simple hitch route for six yards, but made sure to sell the vertical route first.
We're moving the ball easy. Their defense is good, but they're not ready for our tempo.
We'd driven down to Serra's thirty-five-yard line when their defensive coordinator called a timeout.
"TIMEOUT SERRA!" the referee announced. "That's their first timeout of the quarter."
"They're already calling fucking timeout!" Derek laughed as we jogged to the sideline. "We got them shook!"
Watson was talking to his coaches, probably telling them he needed help. Their whole defensive backfield was looking frustrated.
Coach Rivera gathered the offense around him. "Good drive, men. They're trying to slow down our tempo, but don't let up. Jakari, I want you running that double move we worked on. Their corner's athletic as hell, but he's been biting on your first break."
"Got it, Coach," I said, taking a sip of water and adjusting my armband. "Big boy's talking a lot of shit for someone getting cooked."
The cameraman was getting close-ups of our huddle, capturing the intensity and focus on everyone's faces.
"Williams!" Coach Rivera called out louder, making sure it was clear for the cameras. "Time to show this four-star motherfucker why stars don't mean shit!"
No pressure at all.
We broke the timeout and lined up in trips formation. I was the inside receiver, with Tyler outside and Derek in the slot. The play call was "Dagger" - a fifteen-yard comeback with a double move.
Watson was in press coverage now, right up on me.
"You ain't getting off the line, bitch," he said, getting in my face. "I'm about to jam your little ass into next week."
"Try me, tall boy," I said, getting into my stance.
At the snap, I released hard upfield with a violent hand fight to get past Watson's jam. He was strong, but I used my quickness to slip inside his hands. I sold the go route hard, getting Watson to turn his hips and start running. At twelve yards, I gave him a subtle head fake to the outside, then planted and broke back toward the quarterback.
Watson bit on the fake just enough. When I made my break, I had two yards of separation, and Cameron's pass was right on time.
But just as I caught the ball, Serra's safety - Marcus Williams, a four-star commit to Alabama - came flying in from my blind side.
CRACK!
The hit was clean but vicious. My head snapped back, and for a second I saw stars. But I held onto the ball, rolling over and popping back up immediately.
"YEAH!" I yelled, holding the ball up and staring down Watson. "That's what I'm fucking talking about!"
I started clapping right in Watson's face again. "Where's that lockdown coverage at?"
"Fuck you!" Watson yelled back, shoving me.
The refs separated us before anything could escalate, but the energy was electric.
"That's my fucking receiver!" Cameron yelled, running over to check on me. "You good?"
"I'm perfect," I said, even though my ribs were definitely going to be sore tomorrow. "Keep feeding me. This dude can't guard me."
First quarter, first big hit. Welcome to varsity football.
Two plays later, Cameron found Tyler in the corner of the end zone for a touchdown. Seven-yard fade route over Darius Johnson, perfect back-shoulder throw, and Tyler made a beautiful catch with his toes dragging in bounds.
"TOUCHDOWN MALIBU PREP!" the announcer called over the stadium speakers.
MALIBU PREP 7, SERRA 0
Our sideline erupted. Players were jumping up and down, coaches were pumping their fists, and Tyler did a little dance in the end zone before getting mobbed by the team.
"That's how you start a fucking game!" Coach Rivera yelled, clapping his hands. "Defense, get out there and get the ball back!"
As we jogged off the field, I made sure to run past Watson. "Seven-oh, baby! Y'all in trouble!"
"This game just started, Chicago!" Watson yelled back. "We coming for your ass!"
Brady and the defense took the field for Serra's first possession. Their offense had some serious talent too, running back Terrell Davis Jr. (son of the Broncos legend) was headed to Colorado, and their receiver corps had two four-stars.
"Come on, defense!" Antonio yelled from the sideline, even though he wasn't playing yet. "Lock these fools up!"
Brady was covering their number one receiver, Kendrick Brooks, a four-star commit to Georgia. I could see Brady talking to the kid between plays, probably getting in his head with that analytical shit.
Second down and two, Serra tried to run the ball with Davis Jr., but Owen Jackson - our big freshman defensive lineman - met him in the hole and dropped him for a loss of one.
"OWEN!" the defensive line coach yelled. "That's how you fill a fucking gap!"
"Get that weak shit out of here!" Owen yelled, flexing over Davis Jr.
Young bull's strong as hell and talking his shit.
Third down and three, and this was the big test for our defense. Serra lined up in spread formation with four receivers. The QB took the snap and immediately looked for Brooks on a quick slant.
But Brady read it perfectly. He jumped the route, picked off the pass at the twenty-yard line, and started running toward the end zone.
"PICK! PICK!" our entire sideline yelled.
Brady made it about fifteen yards before getting tackled by Thompson, but the damage was done. Interception on their first drive, and we had great field position.
"THAT'S MY FUCKING FRESHMAN!" our defensive coordinator yelled, pumping his fist.
Brady got up and did the "too small" gesture toward Brooks, who was looking heated on the ground.
"Defense! Defense! Defense!" our sideline started chanting.
This is going exactly how we wanted.
Our offense took the field again, this time starting at Serra's thirty-two-yard line. Cameron was feeling confident now, and I could see it in his swagger.
"Short field, boys," he said in the huddle. "Let's punch this shit in."
The first play was a designed screen to me. I lined up outside against Watson, ran a quick hitch to sell it, then leaked back toward the line of scrimmage as Cameron caught the snap and immediately dumped it off to me.
I caught the ball with three blockers in front of me. Derek and Tyler had sealed their defenders inside, and I followed them for a twelve-yard gain down to the twenty.
Watson was chasing me from behind, talking shit the whole way.
"Screen game!" Coach Rivera yelled from the sideline. "Keep it fucking going!"
Serra called another timeout. That was their second timeout of the first quarter, and we'd only been playing for eight minutes.
"They're rattled!" Tyler said as we jogged to the sideline. "Coach got them figured out!"
I could see Watson over on their sideline, animated as hell, talking to his coaches and pointing at me.
Coach Rivera was fired up during the timeout, drawing up plays on his whiteboard.
"Listen up!" he said. "They're trying to take away our quick game, so we're going to the intermediate routes. Jakari, I want you running that dig route at fifteen yards. Tyler, you're running the comeback behind him. Derek, you're the safety valve in the slot."
"Got it, Coach," I said.
"And Jakari?" Coach Rivera added, looking directly at me with the cameras nearby. "This four-star motherfucker's been talking shit all game. Time to shut his ass up!"
He's really putting it all on me for the cameras.
We lined up at the twenty-yard line. Watson was in press coverage again, talking more shit.
"This is where I lock your ass down, Chicago," he said, getting right in my face. "No more easy catches."
"Bet," I said simply.
At the snap, I released with a speed rush to get Watson to turn his hips, then broke across the formation at fifteen yards. He was with me step for step - kid was athletic as hell - but Cameron's pass was perfect, a hard throw right between the linebacker and safety.
I caught it in stride and had nothing but green grass in front of me.
TOUCHDOWN!
Twenty-yard touchdown reception, and the stadium erupted. I crossed the goal line and immediately broke into my touchdown dance - a little two-step shimmy followed by pointing directly at Watson.
"THAT'S WHAT I'M FUCKING TALKING ABOUT!" I yelled, dancing in the end zone.
"TOUCHDOWN JAKARI WILLIAMS!" the announcer called.
MALIBU PREP 14, SERRA 0
The cameras were everywhere, getting shots of my celebration, Watson looking frustrated, and our sideline going absolutely nuts. Cameron jumped on my back, and the whole team mobbed me in the end zone.
"Let's fucking go!" I yelled, still dancing. "Y'all can't guard me!"
As we jogged back toward our sideline, I made sure to run past Watson again.
"Fourteen-oh, big boy!" I said, clapping in his face. "Still want to talk shit?"
"Fuck you, Chicago!" Watson yelled, but I could see the frustration in his eyes.
Serra's next possession started at their own twenty-five after the touchback. Their coach was heated on the sideline, yelling at his players and calling for different formations.
"Come on, defense!" I yelled from the sideline. "Keep these bitches off the scoreboard!"
This time, Serra tried to establish the run game with Davis Jr. He was a thick kid, probably 220 pounds, and he ran with power just like his dad. He picked up six yards on first down, then four more on second down.
Third down and short, and Serra lined up in I-formation with two tight ends. This was old-school football - line up and try to pound it.
But our defense was ready. Latrell Law, our freshman safety, read the play perfectly and came down to fill the hole just as Davis Jr. got the handoff.
CRACK!
Latrell hit him right at the line of scrimmage and dropped him for no gain. Turnover on downs.
"LATRELL!" the entire defense yelled, mobbing our freshman safety.
Latrell got up and did the "sleeping" gesture, laying his head on his hands like Davis Jr. was taking a nap.
Kid's only been here a month and he's already talking shit like a vet.
The crowd was getting into it now. Our student section was loud, parents were on their feet, and I could see people recording with their phones everywhere.
With 3:47 left in the first quarter, we took over at Serra's thirty-eight-yard line. Perfect field position again.
"Keep the fucking pressure on!" Coach Rivera yelled. "No letting up!"
This drive was different. Cameron was feeling himself now, and he started calling more aggressive plays. On first down, he found Tyler on a deep out for fifteen yards over Johnson. On second down, he hit Derek on a wheel route for twelve more.
Watson was getting more and more frustrated with each play, talking to the refs, talking to his coaches, talking to anybody who would listen.
We were down to Serra's thirteen-yard line when their defense finally made a stop. I ran a corner route to the left side of the end zone, but their safety Williams made a good play to break it up.
Second down and ten from the thirteen. Cameron called for a fade route to me in the right corner of the end zone.
I lined up wide right, with Watson in aggressive press coverage. He was heated now, probably trying to redeem himself.
"This is where I shut your ass down!" he said, getting right up on me. "No more fucking touchdowns!"
"We'll see about that, apple jack," I said, getting into my stance.
At the snap, I used a speed release to get past his jam, then ran straight to the corner of the end zone. The throw from Cameron was high and outside - exactly where it needed to be.
But this wasn't going to be a simple catch. Watson was right there with me, and as the ball came down, I realized I had to do something special.
I went up with my right hand extended, reaching over Watson's head. The ball was slightly behind me, so I had to contort my body in midair, reaching up with just my fingertips while falling forward.
TOUCHDOWN!
The cameras caught everything - the jump, the one-handed snag, the way I held onto the ball as I hit the ground. I rolled over and popped up, holding the ball high
"THAT'S MY FUCKING BOY!" I heard someone yell from our sideline.
MALIBU PREP 21, SERRA 0
I immediately broke into my dance again, this time adding some extra flair. I pointed at Watson, who was still on the ground looking up at the scoreboard, then did the "too small" gesture.
"TWENTY-ONE TO FUCKING ZERO!" I yelled, dancing all over the end zone. "Y'all can't guard me! This is my house now!"
Coach Rivera was going crazy, pumping his fists and yelling at the camera crew. "THAT'S WHAT MALIBU PREP FOOTBALL LOOKS LIKE!"
Watson finally got up and walked over to me as I was still celebrating.
"This shit ain't over," he said, getting in my face one more time.
"You right," I said, clapping right back at him. "It's just getting started. And I'm about to cook your ass all day long."
As the first quarter ended, the scoreboard told the whole story. Three touchdowns. Two for our offense, one big defensive play that set up a score. And I had two touchdown catches with about 80 yards receiving against one of the best corners in the state.
First quarter down. Three more to go. But damn, this feels good.