Late in the summer of 2012, the Philadelphia Pioneers had their open tryouts, mainly looking for a new quarterback. The starter of last year had graduated, and the backup's family had moved away during the summer vacation. That meant that Eric Taylor no longer had a quarterback that could accurately throw a ball more than 20 yards at the most. That particular realization caused Eric to let out a huge sigh, scratch his head and look at Harold Peters, his offensive coordinator.

"We could always rink-and-dink.", Peters said with a shrug.

"I'd prefer not to.", Eric said while repositioning his cap and looking at the next name on his clipboard. "Price!" The young men looked up, but no one stepped forward.

"Price!", he repeated. "Franklin Price!" A young kid who stood at least six feet tall seemed to suddenly realize where he was looked up from the ground.

"Yes sir?", the kid said, with a voice that had turned hoarse from not being used.

"Step up." Eric motioned toward the offensive line, that stood waiting. As the kid started moving Eric rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses. The kid didn't look to athletic, but at least he was taller than the rest. Price put on his helmet and took position under center, but didn't manage to yell loud enough, even for the quite stadium, when preparing the play.

"Louder, Price!", Peters yelled. The young man obeyed and yelled his orders louder, this time managing to communicate them to his offense, which set in motion. The play was a simple slants play with a blocking tailback and a tight end going out into the flats. As Price dropped back, everything went in motion. Eric waited patiently for something to happen, but didn't need to wait for long. Within a millisecond of a receiver getting open, the ball was out of Price's hand and hit the target 6 yards away with pinpoint accuracy. The play ended, and Peters made the call for a new play. Price once again received the ball from under center, quickly dropped back and looked, executing a near-perfect throwing motion as soon as the hook-route to his right became open. Once again, right on target. Eric caught himself smiling a little, but stopped as soon as he realized. The still didn't know if the kid could throw deep.

7 perfect short- and mid-range throws later, however, it was time for the test. Three wideouts running streaks and a tight end running a post route. The long snap from the center was somewhat high, but the young man recovered well and dropped back two steps, waiting patiently for someone to get open. Suddenly, a defender broke through from Price's blindside, causing a rollout to the left. Being chased, Franklin suddenly saw what he was looking for, set his feet, and threw the ball. Everything but the recievers and defensive backs seemed to stop as the ball traveled in a rainbow arch toward an open receiver down field. As Collins, #88, looked up and behind him, he could see the balls path was perfectly calculated to his own speed, and caught it in stride 40 yards from the line of scrimmage, speeding up and breaking in to the end zone a few second later. Applause could be heard from a few of the coaches and players, as Taylor and Peters looked at each other. They had a quarterback.

"So, you wanna play football?", Eric said from behind his desk. Franklin Price stood on the other side, looking extremely nervous.

"Yes sir.", he said. "Very much so." Eric smiled.

"You ready to work hard, get up at miserable hours, take hard hits and deal with peoples' disappointment?"

"Yes sir."

"Good." Eric stood up and picked up a piece of paper from his desk. "Then all I need is one of your parents signing this permission slip, and we're good to go." He held it up to Franklin, who suddenly went pale, but took the paper anyway.

"Okay sir.", he said, his voice cracking slightly.

"Is there a problem?" Taylor raised an eyebrow at the young man.

"Uh, no. I mean, I don't think so. Thanks coach." Franklin nodded at the coach in a way that almost looked like a bow, and then disappeared out through the door. Eric shook his head; he would never understand kids.

He'd made it. For the first time in his life, Jason Brooks was part of a football team. As a second string safety on a high school team, sure, but it was still something. There was a certain skip to his step as he left practice, even though the rest of the team seemed somewhat worried that the quarterback hadn't shown up.

Jason wasn't worried though. He was raised with the mentality that no one should rely on just one thing for success, but rather aim toward excellence in everything. The same thing applied to a football team; just because it lacked a great QB, it didn't mean all hope was lost. All the linebackers were great, and the running back, Steve Martinez, was a bright spot on offense who also happened to be one of Jason's childhood friends. That very same guy was standing in wait for Jason as he exited the locker room, talking to William Collins about something that had them both grinning ear to ear.

"Hey guys.", he said as he stopped in front of the two, who immediately turned their attention to him.

"Hey man.", Collins said, still with a huge grin on his face. "Doin anything Friday?"

"Nah, not really." Jason shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant about it, but was incredibly excited that Collins even talked to him. "Why?"

"Tracy is throwing a party.", Steve said. "Gonna be a lot of ladies there." Jason just barely managed to keep himself from gasping. Tracy was the head cheerleader, known for having a lot of crazy parties.

"And since you're actually on the squad this year, there's a good chance for you to get some company." Collins gave him a friendly slap on the shoulder. "So how 'bout it Brooks?" The two looked down on him, as they both were a few inches taller, with eyes that were almost glittering with expectation.

"Sure, I guess." He shrugged again.

"Oh, that's great, chicks love that 'I-don't-give-a-crap' attitude.", Steve said with a laugh.

"True that. But I need to get going, catch you later.", Collins said, bumping fists with the both of them before he got in a crappy sedan and drove of.

"So, there gonna be a lot of people?" Jason was legitimately wondering, as he'd never been to a cheerleader-organized party before, and had no idea how many people generally showed up.

"Yeah man, probably like half the school." Steve looked at his watch. "Hey, wanna go to my place and play some Madden? Dad probably won't be home for like another two hours, so it should be cool."

"Yeah, sure." For the first time during the whole conversation, Jason cracked a smile.

"Awesome. Race you to the road?" Steve pointed to the road ahead of them, and Jason nodded. As they took of, it only took him half a second to fall behind. He'd never catch up.

After the tryouts, two days passed without Price showing up for practice. None of the other kids on the team knew him, and the practices fell a bit flat without a quarterback that couldn't go long. Therefore, after the morning practice, Eric decided to look up the kid's address and pay a visit, see what was going on.

The drive from the field to Price's house took almost 30 minutes, and led Eric into a lower middle-class suburb, with rows of one or two story houses, all in the same style of white wood with black roofs. As he saw the number 271, the same he had written down on a piece of paper, he stepped out and looked around.

What was apparently the home of Franklin Price was a medium-sized bungalow style house, complete with front porch and a small garage. He stepped up toward the house with the usual quick and determined steps, knocking on the door as soon as he reached it. He stood with his hands on his hips as he waited for someone to open, which took quite a while. He knocked again, this time getting a response.

"Calm the fuck down, I'm on my way.", said a woman's voice. He looked at the paper again. Franklin's guardian was named Oscar Price, a name he recognized, but couldn't place. The door swung open, and a young, fairly attractive woman looked out at him as she tried to light a cigarette.

"Who are ya?", she said as the cigarette finally took flame, and she could inhale the smoke.

"I'm coach Taylor from Franklin's school, I'm looking for Oscar?", Eric said.

"Oh,well come in then." The woman turned around and walked into the house, motioning to Eric to close the door behind him. "It's for you babe!"

The inside of the house wasn't quite the mess Eric had expected it to be when the woman had opened the door. In fact, aside from a few pizza boxes, empty beer cans and and almost full ashtray, the place was very clean, with decent furniture and a big TV in the living room. At the back of the room, a man sat behind a desk, filled with different screens that his eyes shot back and forth between, as he furiously typed away at a keyboard. Just as the woman, the man was a smoker, but still had the good manners to blow the smoke out through an open window next to him.

"It's some coach.", the woman said as she left the living room for the kitchen. The man stopped typing and looked up, scratching his beard as he inspected coach Taylor.

"Oscar Price?", Eric said.

"Yup.", the man replied before putting out his cigarette in an ashtray and getting up from his chair. "What do you want?" The way he said it, coupled with the fact that he stood at a good 6'5 and looked to weigh way north of 200 pounds, made coach Taylor take an internal gulp of fear.

"Did Franklin talk to you about football at all?" Eric inspected the huge man, trying to remember where he had seen him before.

"All the time when he was little, why?"

"He was at the tryouts two days ago, best quarterback there.", Eric said, Oscar nodded. "And afterward, I gave him a permission slip for you or his mother to fill out, and I haven't seen him since."

"We had a brief conversation about that." Oscar shrugged, then lit up a cigarette and let the smoke roll out through his nose.

"And?", Taylor asked.

"To be honest, I've kind of been down on football for a long time." The giant man picked up the note that Eric had given to Franklin two days earlier.

"How so?" Eric somewhat nervously scratched his neck, afraid that it could be a touchy subject.

"Got hurt." Price pointed to his left knee. "Missed the draft. Had to get a real job."

"Oh."

"Yeah." Oscar raised his eyebrows as more smoke puffed out from his nose. "How can I be sure that nothing will happen to Frankie?"

"If he does get hurt, then you can hold me personally accountable.", Eric said, still nervous. "But he is probably the greatest quarterback I've seen at that age, and the team really needs him."

"Uh-huh.", was Oscars reply as he read the permission slip. Finally he shrugged. "Aight, fine. I'll talk to him when he gets home. If he still wants it, when is training tomorrow?"

"6 pm sharp, that means no later...", Eric was interrupted by a smiling Oscar.

"No later than 5.45, I remember coach.", he said as he knocked some ashes of the cigarette into the ashtray behind him. And suddenly, Eric knew who the man in front of him was. He'd gotten a bit taller and way heavier since he last saw him, but it was still the same Oscar Price that had been a redshirted freshman tight end when he'd briefly worked at TMU all those years ago. He'd heard rumors of the young man being a potential draft pick the previous year, but nothing more than that.

"You got taller.", Eric said. The smile on Oscar's face got bigger.

"Coulda sworn it was you who got shorter.", the tight end said. They both laughed, Eric not as loudly as Oscar, but still all the way from the heart.

The story of what had happened to Oscar Price after coach Taylor had left TMU was a sad one. Oscar had played for three seasons after his redshirt year, gaining popularity as one of the greatest tight ends in college football. Compiling a career total of 177 catches for 2,303 yards and 16 touchdowns, he was touted as the no 1 tight end in the 2011 draft. However, as TMU appeared in the Rose Bowl, his career ended. On the very first play of the game, he made a reception on a crossing route, and took a low hit from a linebacker. The hit shattered his kneecap and tore several muscles and ligaments in the knee, as the joint bent backwards. It had been one of the worst leg injuries anyone of the coaching staff had ever seen, and one that despite multiple surgeries and months of physical therapy would never let him play again. Just like that, his career was over.

Eric listened carefully to every word of Oscar's story as they sat on the porch, waiting for Frank to get home. When the story ended, coach Taylor was at a rare loss for words. But he collected himself, and spoke.

"So, how did you end up in Philadelphia?", he asked.

"Got a job offer here after I'd finisher my degree.", Oscar said with a shrug. Eric nodded, remembering that Price had studied software engineering along with playing ball. "Doesn't pay great, but it meant I could move Frank out here as well."

"Yeah, about that, where are your parents?" Taylor knew it was a risky question to ask, but he had to know, needed to be aware of his future player's background.

"They're..." Oscar took a pause to find the right words. "They weren't really around. I'd prefer not to talk about it, you know?"

"Yeah, I get it." Eric looked at his watch, as it was getting dark. "You know, I should probably head home before it gets to late." Just as he stood up, a six feet tall youngster entered the property, but froze as he saw the two men on the porch.

"Hey Frankie.", Oscar said, holding a hand up. Eric simply smiled, and started to walk. As he got up to Franklin, he stopped, and put a hand on his shoulder.

"See you tomorrow kid.", was all he said, before getting in his car and driving home.