Gridiron Genesis: Jamaica's Revolution

Football a two-team game of eleven players opposing each other, each trying to score touchdowns while preventing the other from scoring touchdowns. A game of will, strategy, and determination.

In a poorly lit small room, Elijah lay on his bed, staring at the TV screen. The only light came from the glow of the TV as it displayed a mythical game that had occurred eight years earlier.

Final Score:

Raiden Faucons – 45, Blitz König – 40.

It was excruciating tension on-screen. The camera zoomed tight in on a younger Zidane Kingsley, cool and composed, standing erect in the pocket.

Commentator 1:

"We're down to the last seconds, everyone. The suspense is electric! Blitz König's defense is exhausting fumes. If they don't pull their fingers out, Raiden Faucons' star quarterback Zidane Kingsley will sign his name in the books once more!"

The camera panned across the deafening sea of faces. Flashing lights illuminated the stands. Climbing cheers. The moment was electric with fire.

Commentator 2:

"Watch him! Kingsley is not just playinghe's making art. The way he identifies a defense… it's as if he's reading the mind of the other team."

Zidane approached the line of scrimmage, eyes scanning the field like a hawk's. He called out "Thunderstrike" and all was set in motion.

The snap came. At once, he feigned tossing it off, luring defenders in with perfect ruse. Then, turning nimbly, rolling out of the pocket, he launched a high, swooping pass deep into the deepening sky.

Commentator 1:

"The ball is up… and it's going right into the awaiting arms of destiny!"

Slowed-down replay filled the TV screen. The trajectory of the ball. The last-gasp dive of the defender. The jump of the receiver. The touchdown.

Back in his room, Elijah leaned forward, captivated. His heart beat in time with the moment.

Zidane was more than a quarterback—Zidane was football.

Commentator 2:

"This drive will be one for the ages. Zidane Kingsley didn't just lead a team he navigated the future."

Slowly Elijah sat up, eyes aglow with marvel. A gentle blue aura surrounded his form and eyes, like tongues of flame licking the edges of ambition.

"So this is football, huh?" he panted.

The atmosphere thickened.

"Wow… I'm excited."

[One Month Later – July 1st | T.B.C. High]

A black sedan pulled up in front of the entrance of T.B.C. Private High, one of the most premium football academies in the nation.

The door opened and Kyren Locke stepped out, clad in a crisp warm-up jacket. Beside him was the relaxed Zalika Williams, clutching clipboard firmly.

Kyren looked out over the campus, soaking up two massive football fields, state-of-the-art facilities, giant gymnasiums.

"So this is it. T.B.C. High," he said with a wide-toothed grin.

"I'm going to be the best football player here… then the best in the world."

In the school auditorium, there were roughly 100 new recruits chatting with wide-eyed excitement. Uniforms were spotless, eyes wide with wonder, and hearts pounding.

Elijah entered by the side door and stood quietly in the back. He watched in silence, inscrutable.

Zalika and Kyren occupied the front.

The doors burst open—and marvel swept the room.

Zidane Kingsley, legendary quarterback and now coach, entered with dignified poise. The gossiping stopped immediately. Everyone stared at him.

Kyren leaned forward, incredulous.

"That's really him… Zidane Kingsley."

Zidane walked up to the mic, microphone in hand. His stature commanded silence.

Zidane:

"Football is not a game. It's war. Eleven versus eleven not to score… but to conquer. Doubt. Pain. Fear. Yourself."

He paused to allow the seriousness of his statement to sink in.

"But you know… people say football is a copycat of soccer. You know why?"

Silence.

Zidane searched the crowd.

"Because even though we've got the same number of players… the same ball… what we don't have is unity. Drive. Guts. That's what I'm here to build."

He straightened up.

"My name's Zidane Kingsley. I've won four Super Novas. And now, I'm here to build something new."

"Our first goal? Win the NFS Championship.The other three… the board and I know them. But let me make one thing absolutely clear—"

He held up one solitary finger.

"In this world, the strongest teammate on a team isn't a captain. He's an Emperor."

Murmers circled the room.

"An Emperor?" Elijah whispered.

"Wait, I've never heard anyone use that term before… " another mentioned.

Zidane moved forward.

"I want every player of mine to be an Emperor on the field. But first, I'm going to take you apart. No more designations. No more QB, WR, RB."

"You don't decide where you are. I do. Based on your heart, your mind, and how you play."

Instruction shot up.

"Wait, that's not what I meant!"

Another voice was heard:

"What's the point, then? Why even try out if you can get cut?"

"We have other school offer still available we decided to attend this school because it is one of the school with best technology and development." Said next student

Zidane moved to the stage side, sat down, and rested against the mic.

"LEAAAAAAAVE."

Gasps were heard in the room.

"You don't pay me," he replied without sentiment. "At the end of the day, I still get paid. I still leave with four Super Novas. You? Most of you won't even be pro."

More murmurs.

"If you're scared of being benched, go. If you think my methods are too hard, go. If you don't want to get broken and remoldedbgo."

Cautiously, class by class, students got up and filed out.

The classroom was depleted, but gradually.

But Zalika didn't leave. Kyren didn't leave. Elijah didn't move.

Zidane got up.

"This place has two football grounds, state-of-the-art gym, cinema rooms, steam rooms, smart facilities that analyze every speed, ball control, position, energy output. We have the country's finest technology."

He jammed his fist into the air.

"So my revolutionaries."

He looked at each of them.

".should we fight?"