The hotel restaurant was buzzing with tournament teams grabbing late lunch, but the Flight Boys had claimed a corner section that felt more like a teenage hangout than an elite athletic gathering. Phones were scattered across the table, notifications constantly lighting up screens, while plates of burgers, fries, and sandwiches disappeared rapidly.
"Bro, I can't even keep up with these DMs," Marcus said, scrolling through his phone while simultaneously demolishing a double cheeseburger. "Like, actual college coaches are in my inbox talking about visits and shit."
"Your Twitter mentions are fucking nuts," Deshawn added, showing his screen. "Look at this—'Marcus Walker just broke high school football.' You're trending above some NFL players right now."
Jaylen laughed, stealing a fry from Carlos's plate. "Y'all see that video of Marcus's one-handed catch? Someone slowed it down frame by frame. Looks like some Matrix shit."
"Don't gas me up too much," Marcus grinned, but Tristain could see he was loving every second of the attention. "Still got one more game to play today."
"Speaking of which," Terrell said, "anyone else's legs feel like concrete? That St. Xavier game was a fucking war."
"My hamstrings are screaming," Carlos admitted. "But it's good pain, you know? Championship pain."
Tristain's phone buzzed with yet another notification. His Instagram followers had jumped by 15,000 in the past three hours, and his DMs were flooded with everything from college coaches to random fans to girls from schools across the Midwest.
But one notification caught his eye—a direct message from someone with a verified blue checkmark.
Coach Curt Cignetti - Indiana University Football
Tristain's heart rate spiked. Indiana was a legitimate Power 5 program, coming off an 11-1 season and a College Football Playoff appearance. Their quarterback Kurtis Rourke had just declared for the NFL Draft.
"Yo, guys," Tristain said, setting down his burger. "Indiana just DM'd me."
The table went quiet except for the sound of Deshawn choking on his Sprite.
"Indiana? Like, actual Indiana University?" Marcus asked, leaning over to see the phone.
Tristain opened the message:
Tristain - Coach Cignetti here. Just watched your performance today. Absolutely exceptional. We're coming off an 11-1 season and CFP appearance, and with Kurtis declaring for the draft, we're looking for our next quarterback. Your arm talent, decision-making, and leadership are exactly what we value. I'll be keeping a close eye on you and would love to start a conversation. This is the beginning of what could be a very exciting relationship. Keep playing the way you did today.
"Holy shit," Jaylen whispered, reading over Tristain's shoulder. "That's a real offer, isn't it?"
"Sounds like it," Tristain said, still staring at the message in disbelief.
"Dude, they were in the fucking playoffs last year," Deshawn said, his voice cracking with excitement. "That's like, actual big-time college football."
Marcus grabbed Tristain's shoulder. "Bro, you're about to be playing on TV every Saturday. This is insane."
"We still got Warren Central in three hours," Tristain said, trying to stay grounded, but inside he was buzzing with excitement.
"Fuck Warren Central for a minute," Terrell laughed. "Indiana University wants our quarterback! That's some NCAA Football video game shit right there."
The energy at the table was infectious. Despite their exhaustion, despite the pressure of their final game, they were still just teenagers experiencing something extraordinary together.
"I need to text Ayana," Tristain said, already opening his messages.
Tristain:You watching the highlights? 🚁✈️
Ayana:OMG YES! Dad literally screamed when Marcus made that one-handed catch 😱 You two are INSANE together
Tristain:Marcus went off today. 12 catches, 203 yards, 5 TDs 🔥
Ayana:Those are video game numbers Twitter is going CRAZY. #FlightBoys is trending everywhere
Tristain:Check this out [screenshot of Indiana DM]
Ayana:WAIT WHAT?? TRISTAIN!! 😭😭 That's a real Power 5 school! They were in the playoffs!
Tristain:I know right? Still feels surreal 🤯
Ayana:Mom just saw this over my shoulder and she's crying. Dad's calling everyone he knows. YOU'RE GOING TO PLAY BIG TIME COLLEGE FOOTBALL 🏈
Tristain:One more game first. Warren Central at 6. Then we'll see 😤
Ayana:Go finish what you started. The whole state is watching now 📺 Make them remember Indiana 💯
---
An hour later, the core group had migrated to Tristain and Marcus's room, which had become the unofficial team headquarters. Phones were charging on every available outlet, empty Gatorade bottles covered the desk, and the TV was playing SportsCenter highlights on repeat.
"They just showed your touchdown pass to Elijah again," Carlos said, pointing at the screen. "That's like the tenth time today."
"It's a good throw," Tristain said modestly, though he was secretly thrilled every time he saw it.
Marcus was sprawled across his bed, scrolling through recruiting websites. "Yo, someone made a highlight video of just my catches today. It's got 2.3 million views already."
"Let me see that shit," Deshawn said, jumping onto the bed to watch. "Oh damn, they got it in slow motion and everything. That one-hander looks even more insane slowed down."
Jaylen was doing stretches on the floor, trying to work the stiffness out of his legs. "Anyone else feel like they got hit by a truck? My whole body hurts."
"Good hurt though," Terrell said from the desk chair. "Like, we just played the game of our fucking lives against D1 talent and won. This is what championship football feels like."
"Speaking of which," Marcus said, sitting up with a more serious expression, "Warren Central's not gonna be starstruck by our social media numbers. They've been watching film of us all day while we've been answering DMs."
"You worried?" Tristain asked.
"Nah, not worried. But they're good, man. Really good. And they're fresh while we're running on fumes."
Carlos stretched his arms above his head. "At least we know we can play with anybody now. After what we did to St. Xavier? Shit, we can beat anyone."
"That's what I'm saying," Deshawn agreed. "Those dudes had five D1 commits and we put up 63 points. Warren Central can get it too."
Tristain's phone buzzed with another notification. This time it was from 247Sports—an article about the day's standout performers with his and Marcus's pictures as the featured image.
"'Flight Boys' Dynamic Duo Takes Chicago by Storm,'" he read aloud. "'The connection between quarterback Tristain Dyce and receiver Marcus Walker has been the story of the tournament so far, combining for video game numbers in an overtime classic.'"
"Video game numbers," Marcus repeated with a grin. "I like the sound of that."
"Don't let it go to your head," Jaylen laughed. "Your ego's already too big for this room."
"My ego's perfectly sized, thank you very much," Marcus shot back. "It's just that my talent requires a large ego to contain it."
The banter was helping everyone relax, but Tristain could see the underlying tension. They were all tired, all feeling the pressure of their final game, all aware that everything they'd worked for could come down to the next few hours.
"You know what though?" Terrell said, breaking the comfortable silence. "Even if we lose—which we won't—this has been the best day of football I've ever played. Like, we're actually out here competing with the best players in the country and holding our own."
"Holding our own?" Deshawn scoffed. "Bro, we're not holding our own. We're dominating. We put up video game numbers on elite competition. That's not holding our own, that's announcing that we belong here."
"Deshawn's right," Carlos added. "We're not just happy to be here anymore. We're here to win the whole fucking thing."
The room went quiet for a moment as that reality settled in. They'd started the day as the feel-good story—the small-town team from Indiana trying to make some noise. Now they were one game away from potentially advancing as group winners.
"Warren Central better be ready," Marcus said finally. "Because we're about to show them what Flight Boys football looks like when everything's on the line."
Tristain felt his phone buzz again—another DM from a college coach, another interview request, another reminder that his life was changing by the hour. But looking around the room at his teammates, he realized the most important thing hadn't changed at all.
They were still just a group of friends who'd figured out how to play football at an elite level together.
"Alright," he said, standing up and stretching. "Let's get some rest, then go handle business. Warren Central's about to find out why they call us the Flight Boys."
---
The team gathered in Taylor's room for final preparations, the exhaustion from their earlier games evident but masked by focused determination. Taylor had film queued up on his laptop, showing Warren Central's dominant performances from their first two games.
"Aviators, here's what we're dealing with," Taylor began, his usual theatrical energy replaced by serious intensity. "Warren Central is undefeated for a reason. Four Division I commits, perfect chemistry, and they've been resting players while we've been in wars."
He clicked through highlights of Warren Central's quarterback, a tall, mobile athlete with an obviously strong arm.
"Michael Torres, their quarterback. Committed to Michigan State. Threw for 400 yards against a very good Cincinnati team this morning. He's accurate, he's smart, and he doesn't make mistakes."
More highlights showed their receiving corps—crisp routes, reliable hands, and the kind of size and speed that earned scholarships.
"Their receivers are all legitimate. The slot guy's going to Notre Dame, their outside receiver has offers from Ohio State and Georgia. They know how to get open and they don't drop balls."
The defense looked equally impressive—disciplined coverage, aggressive but smart pass rush, and the kind of team speed that created problems for even elite offenses.
"Here's the thing though," Taylor said, closing the laptop and looking directly at his exhausted but determined players. "They haven't faced anything like what you just did to St. Xavier. They've been beating teams by 30 points while you've been proving you can execute under ultimate pressure."
He stood up, his confidence returning. "Fatigue is real, but experience under pressure is more valuable than fresh legs. You know you can make plays when everything's on the line. They've never been tested like that."
As the meeting broke up, Tristain felt the familiar calm settling over him. Warren Central would be their toughest opponent yet, but after surviving an overtime classic, he felt ready for anything.
One more game. Everything we've worked for comes down to the next thirty minutes.
FLIGHT BOYS VS. WARREN CENTRAL - GROUP C Semi-Final
The atmosphere at Field 4 was electric as both teams took the field for what everyone knew would determine the group winner. Warren Central's players moved with the confident efficiency of a team that had been dominant all season, while the Flight Boys carried themselves with the quiet confidence of a team that had just proven they belonged among the elite.
College scouts had moved even closer to the field, recognizing that this game would likely produce the tournament's most impressive individual performances. ESPN cameras captured every angle, and the crowd was packed with players from other teams who'd finished their group play.
As both teams lined up for the opening kickoff, Tristain surveyed Warren Central's formation one final time. They looked exactly as advertised—talented, confident, and ready for business.
But looking around at his own teammates—Marcus adjusting his gloves despite obvious fatigue, Jaylen reviewing route concepts, Deshawn bouncing on tired legs—Tristain felt completely confident.
They'd already proven they could execute under pressure. Now it was time to prove they were champions.
This is what we came here for. Time to show them what Flight Boys football looks like.
The referee's whistle echoed across the complex, and the Semi-Final game of group play was underway.