The air was electric. The crowd at AT&T Stadium was on its feet, chanting, clapping, and screaming. With ten seconds left in the state championship game, the Southfield Chargers were on the verge of glory. Tristain Dyce, however, felt like he was miles away.

He stood on the sidelines, helmet in hand, his breath visible in the cold December night. His 1st-string teammate, Jason Reynolds, was crouched behind the center, barking out the cadence like a seasoned pro. Jason's jersey was smeared with mud and turf stains, a testament to his hard-fought game. Tristain

glanced down at his own spotless uniform and sighed.

' I could've been out there.'

The ball snapped. Jason dropped back, scanning the field. The blitz came hard from the right, a linebacker crashing through unblocked. Jason spun out of the defender's grasp with a practiced ease, scrambling to his right.

"Come on, Jason!" someone yelled from the stands, their voice drowned in the collective roar of the crowd.

Jason pump-faked once, freezing the safety in his tracks. Then he rolled farther toward the sideline, keeping his eyes locked downfield. Finally, he planted his back foot and launched a bullet to the far corner of the endzone.

Time seemed to slow as the ball arced through the air. The tight end leapt, fully extended, and snagged it with his fingertips before crashing into the turf hitting the pile line. The referee raised his arms: Touchdown

The stadium exploded. Fans stormed the field, waving school flags and screaming themselves hoarse. Jason sprinted down the sideline, ripping off his helmet and pumping his fists. His teammates mobbed him, lifting him onto their shoulders as if he'd single-handedly won the game.

Tristain stayed on the sideline, watching it all unfold. His hands tightened around his helmet. It was a moment he'd dreamed of, but instead of being the one in the spotlight, he was just another face in the crowd.

——

Most of the team had cleared out by the time Tristain slung his bag over his shoulder and headed for the door. He paused near the hallway, taking one last look at the trophy, now perched on a table surrounded by the

remnants of celebration—crumpled towels, empty water bottles, and discarded tape.

"That's a heavy bag you're carrying."

Tristain turned to see a tall man leaning casually against the wall. He wore a navy windbreaker with the logo of a team Tristain didn't recognize.

"Tristain Dyce, right?" the man asked, his tone easy but confident.

"yeah," Tristain said slowly. "Who's asking?"

"Brad Milton," the man replied, extending a hand. "Head coach of the Royals based in Indiana."

Tristain shook his hand, confused. "Indiana? Never heard of you guys."

Milton smirked. "Not surprising. We're not exactly top-tier. Haven't had a winning season since...well, let's just say it's been a while."

"Then why are you here?" Tristain asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

"Because I've been watching you, Tristain," Milton said, his voice sharpening. "I've seen the way you play. You've got the mechanics, the vision—you're just missing the opportunity."

Tristain raised an eyebrow. "Opportunity? You do know I'm 3rd string, right?"

Milton chuckled. "And I know that if Jason Reynolds hadn't been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, you'd be the one leading that team out there."

Tristain flinched. Milton's words hit too close to home. "So what? You think I should just pack up and move to Indiana?"

Milton shrugged. "I'm offering you more than just a move. I'm offering you a fresh start. A chance to be the guy. No more sidelines, no more watching someone else live your dream."

He reached into his pocket and handed Tristain a laminated card. It detailed the Royals' program, including one line in bold: Starting Quarterback Position Guaranteed.

Tristain stared at it, his heart racing. "You're serious?"

"As serious as a guy trying to poach a player can be" Milton said.

"Take your time, think it over. But remember, opportunities like this don't come often."

With that, Milton walked away, leaving Tristain alone with the card and a thousand questions swirling in his head.

——

Tristain walked into his house, still reeling from the conversation with Coach Milton. He dropped his bag on the floor and pulled out his phone, dialing Alex's number.

"Hey, man, what's up?" Alex answered on the first ring.

"Not much, just got home from the game," Tristain replied, trying to sound casual. "But I need to tell you something."

"What is it?" Alex asked, sensing something was off.

"I just got offered the starting job for a Highschool called the Royals in Indiana," Tristain blurted out.

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Whoa, that's huge! What did you say?"

"I didn't say anything yet," Tristain admitted. "I'm still trying to process it all. But I have to make a decision soon."

Alex whistled. "Dude, that's a tough man. But you have to think about what's best for you. If this is an opportunity to shine, you should consider it."

Tristain sighed, feeling a mix of emotions. "I know, I know. It's just hard to leave everything behind. Family, friends, the team..."

"I get it," Alex said. "But you can't let fear hold you back. You have to take the leap of faith and see where it takes you."

Tristain nodded, even though Alex couldn't see him. "You're right, as always. I'll think it over and we can discuss it more at our New Year's Eve party."

Alex chuckled. "Now that's a plan. And who knows, maybe by the time the clock strikes midnight, you'll have made up your mind."

—-

It was December 31st, and the city was buzzing with excitement. People from all

walks of life were gathering in the streets, dressed in their finest attire, ready to say bye to the old year and welcome the new one with open arms.

Among the sea of revelers were Tristain and Alex, along with their friends Emily and Matt. They had decided to throw a New Year's Eve party at Alex's house, complete with music, food, and drinks.

As they counted down to midnight, Tristain couldn't help but think about the offer from Coach Milton. He glanced at Alex, who was busy pouring champagne into glasses.

"Hey, Alex, can I talk to you for a minute?" Tristain asked, pulling his friend aside.

"Sure, what's up?" Alex replied, handing Tristain a glass of champagne.

"I've been thinking a lot about the offer from Coach Milton," Tristain said, his voice low.

"I'm really torn. Part of me wants to take the chance, but another part is scared of leaving everything behind."

Alex nodded thoughtfully. "I get it. But remember what I said last time, you have to think about what's best for you. If this is an opportunity to shine, you should consider it."

Tristain sighed, feeling a mix of

emotions. "I know, I know. It's just hard man, it's hard

Alex put a hand on Tristain's shoulder. "You're not alone, man. We'll support you no matter what you decide. And who knows, maybe this is the start of something amazing."

As the clock struck midnight, Tristain looked at his friends, feeling a sense of hope and uncertainty. Maybe this New Year would be one to remember only time would tell.