[15/06/2021, Stanford stadium, 13:15]
The rest of the first day was spent on Position-Specific Drills. Jace and Taric were split into their positions as the Running Backs, Offensive, Defensive Linemen, Linebackers and Defensive Backs were taken to the indoor practice field with stations already set up for them.
The Quarterbacks, Wide Receivers and Tight Ends were grouped together for this exercise allowing Jace and Jason to catch up. The latter had done above average for himself during the physical portion in the morning and made up for his shortcomings in the endurance drills. Now he was finally getting to show the scouts what he was good at. With both Jace and Mike Jones participating in this exercise most of the scouts were present giving the others the highest visibility to shine.
Jace adjusted his bandana, rolling his shoulders as he walked onto the field with the other quarterbacks. The ten wide receivers and three tight ends stood off to the side, stretching and mentally preparing themselves for what would be the most critical part of the day for them. This was a test to see whether their fancy footwork, fast timing, and decision-making could translate to real results on the pitch.
For the scouts and coaches in attendance, this was what they had been waiting for as it would allow them to separate the elite prospects from the rest. Before the exercise even started, they were laser-focused with their clipboards ready to dissect every rep.
"Howdy, my friend your Jace right?" Mike suddenly spoke up in the quiet group of quarterbacks prompting a few glances.
Jace hearing this scowled lightly as he watched the guy approach him. While his actions seem friendly to Jace they were anything but that. They were about to throw the ball for the first time in this combine which was practically their last chance to impress any coach before the new college rosters were finalised. So, breaking someone's focus in the middle of this tension-filled atmosphere could easily mess with someone's mental preparation.
That is why upon seeing the guy's smug expression and the confidence ingrained in his bones Jace was less than pleased. "Yuh wan't an autograph or something?"
"Or something," The guy responded still donning his nonchalant expression. "They told me you know how to throw a ball,"
His words were met with silence as Jace sent a questioning glance to a boy next to him named Xavia in their group. He had played against the boy in the regular season, and he was no doubt the second-best quarterback in their league. "Hate to break it to you but everyone in this group knows how to throw a ball I just do it better than y'all."
"This guy, you just had to get him started didn't you," Xavia commented before he proceeded to distance himself from the situation.
"Hahaha, that's funny but no matter how good you think you are I'm called the gunslinger of Florida for a reason," Mike commented with a teasing smile not at all letting Jace's comments get to him.
"Does it look like I give a fuck, Cause I don't. The bush league can call you the second coming of Bledsoe for all I care," Jace retorted with a disinterested gaze finally managing to wipe the smirk off Mike's face.
Like a two-bit villain in the overplayed teen dramas Hollywood is so obsessed with making Mike loudly retorted. "You think your hot shit just because you can lift a little more and run a little faster."
Not at all bothered by his words Jace simply continued listing out reasons why he was superior to the kid in front of him, conveniently not remembering the fact they were the same age. "Don't forget that I'm better looking, got a better fashion sense... oh and I am taller,"
"Stop! if your hot shit proves it on the field whoever has a worse result must acknowledge the other as the better quarterback." Mike interrupted Jace's rambling of self-praise that seemed to be dissecting his entire being.
"Yo, I got two state rings, and you barely got one but sure let's compete," Jace responded in a disinterested tone before shooing the guy away like an annoying fly.
~~~
The quarterbacks were finally called to line up, and the receivers took their positions. The drill would start with short-range throws, and then progress to medium-range routes, before finishing with the deep ball showcase. Jace ignored Mike and the sidekick he managed to pick up.
Rolling his shoulders he stepped up when his number was called eager to set the tone for the scouts. While he found the challenge from Mike annoying, he wasn't lying when he said he was better. He genuinely believed that there was no quarterback his age that could match his killer instinct.
To boys from where he is from this isn't a chance to go to college, but the only way out. When your back is against the back all your life you tend to make it count whenever you are given the chance. Everyone from the hood who has their whole family and sometimes even their neighbourhood counting on them has different ways of dealing with the pressure.
The weak succumb to drugs, parties, and women. However, the most common method is anger. In Jace's case, he channels all his emotions and pressure into confidence. He wears it like armour, a first line of defence to make sure no one ever looks behind the shiny coating. It's hard to truly get to know someone who seems self-absorbed and ready to take on the world.
Jace exhaled slowly as he stepped up to the line, gripping the football with his usual confidence. The sun cast long shadows over the field, and the air was tense as the first round of throws began. Most of the scouts and coaches came to see them throw, so it was no surprise that when he stepped up, they immediately paid attention.
The short-range drills were first—slants, quick outs, hitches, and drag routes. These were the bread and butter of a quarterback's accuracy and timing, and Jace knew this was his chance to set the tone. The drill was held on the 25-yard line likely to facilitate the progression of longer throws later.
The first receiver lined up, ready for his go with Jace. Observing him Jace noticed his short but muscular arms and immediately understood what kind of reach he would have mid-sprint. He didn't know the boy personally but could tell he was the type of player to excel through contact but likely lacked vision, situational awareness and reach when catching throws.
"Set Hut" Jace loudly exclaimed with practised ease as he held the ball low in front of him as he was taking a real snap. He took his practice three-step drop that had become muscle memory over the years. The receiver wearing the number 113 exploded forward in a straight line toward the 35-yard line.
Faking out the imaginary cornerback with a quick feint, he exploded diagonally toward the middle of the forty-yard line. Jace counted in his head slowly, '3,2,1,' in rhythm with the recruit's steps. The moment he was two steps away from entering the 4x4-meter box marked out by cones around the centre of the forty-yard line, he firmly planted his back foot.
His right arm cocked back and fired a low-flying guided missile, the ball whipped through the air with velocity, spinning tightly before hitting the receiver perfectly in stride the moment he entered the middle of the square. Recruit 113 had already turned and opened his arms for the catch and the ball was in his grasp.
The scout closest and coaches at the sides nodded in approval, jotting something down on his clipboard. Next was the out route on the 35-yard line aiming for a first down if it was a real match the target throwing area was marked with yellow cones which were smaller in a 3x3 dimension. The receiver would enter that area immediately after turning for the out-route, and to Jace's surprise, it was Jason's turn to catch for him.
Jace met Jason's gaze as he lined up, offering a small nod. They had drilled this exact throw countless times in training to the point Jace could make this throw with eyes closed and could still place the ball in his friend's hands. Jason's route running was sharp, but it was his ability to gain separation that made him elite.
Jason lined up against an imaginary defender, shifting his weight slightly before bursting off the line. He sprinted hard upfield, selling the vertical route before suddenly chopping his steps and making a sharp 90-degree cut to the sideline at the 35-yard mark. Jace's eyes never left his target. One… Two… Boom. He let the ball fly before Jason even turned his head, throwing it to a spot just inside the yellow cone markers.
Jason extended his hands at the perfect moment as he kept his gaze forward, trusting in Jace's accuracy. His trust was proven right the next moment as just as he stepped into the 3x3 zone the ball arrived exactly where it needed to be in his hand, low and away from where an actual cornerback could make a play. He toe-tapped into the box completing the reception smoothly, before symbolically sprinting forward as if he wanted to gain more yards.
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To Be continued...