That night, Jordan lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. His mind wandered back to his freshman year—the first time he'd faced Riverside. It had been a massacre. The Wildcats had been young and inexperienced, and Riverside had shown no mercy.
Jordan remembered how it felt to stand on that field, overwhelmed by the sheer talent of the opposing team. The scoreboard had been brutal—Riverside 35, Coldwater 3. He had spent that game running for his life, dodging sack after sack, while Carter, then a sophomore, had picked apart Coldwater's defense with ease.
It was the first time Jordan had ever truly doubted himself as a quarterback. The first time he'd felt the weight of expectations crush him. He hadn't forgotten that feeling. And now, as Thursday night approached, it crept back into his mind like a shadow, threatening to unravel everything he'd worked for.
His phone buzzed again. This time, it was a text from his dad: Tomorrow's the day, son. Don't let it slip.
Jordan stared at the message, his jaw tightening. He could almost hear his father's voice in his head, the words heavy with meaning. It was more than just a football game to Mitch Rivers. It was a test. And Jordan knew what the stakes were—not just for his team, but for himself.
The next day at practice, the tension was higher than ever. The entire town was buzzing about Thursday night's game, and the locker room was filled with nervous energy. Jordan could feel the eyes of his teammates on him. They were looking to him for confidence, for leadership. But inside, Jordan's mind was a whirlwind of pressure, doubt, and determination.
Chris walked up to him as they strapped on their gear. "You good, man? You seem tense."
Jordan forced a smile. "I'm fine. Just ready to play."
But Chris wasn't fooled. He gave Jordan a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "We've got this. You've got this. Carter's just a guy, same as the rest of us."
Jordan nodded, but the weight of expectation still hung over him like a storm cloud. And tomorrow night, that storm would hit.