12:00 p.m.
The Rose Bowl was already breathing anticipation, even before it filled up.
There were still thirty minutes left until kickoff, but the recruits' area was already alive with chatter and movement. Under a white tent set up along the south side of the stadium, dozens of young players and adults moved among tall tables, UCLA banners, and signs bearing the blue and gold Bruins emblem.
There were over twenty recruits, and with their guests, the number easily tripled. Fathers with cameras, nervous mothers, smiling girlfriends, all trying to look calm, though they knew this place could mark the beginning of a college career.
Closer by, trays of pretzels, cups of lemonade, and bottles of water with the football program's label covered the tables. On one side, UCLA's recruiting staff moved with practiced efficiency.
Derrick, one of the university's primary area recruiters, observed everything with his hands in his pockets, waiting. His eyes scanned the tent again and again, always ending up fixed on the entrance. His foot tapped nervously against the floor, keeping time with his impatience.
"Relax, honey, he'll get here," said Derrick's wife, Angela, with the kind of patience only she could manage.
"Yeah, Dad," added Jade without looking up from her phone. "You're acting like you're waiting for Jesus Christ."
She paused a beat, then added, "Oh, wait… you are. The football one."
Derrick ignored his daughter's remark, he was used to them, and looked back at his wife. "I can't relax. Look," he said, gesturing with his head.
Angela followed his gaze and saw a stocky, gray-haired man shaking hands with several parents.
"Randall…" she said. "He's your boss. Why is that a problem?"
"It means the game's a big deal," Derrick replied.
Randall was Derrick's superior. Big programs like UCLA had their recruiting staff divided into three tiers:
-Director of Player Personnel: the highest position, overseeing all recruiting and coordinating with the head coach. At UCLA, that was Randall.
-Regional Scouts: each covered a designated sector of the state.
Derrick held this position, responsible for the Los Angeles section. Even though Andrew now played in the Southern Section, Derrick had already taken notice of him back when Andrew was at Palisades, part of Derrick's own territory, so he remained the main contact for Andrew and his family.
-Position Coaches: position-specific coaches (QB, WR, DL, etc.) who actively help convince the player once the initial scout has made contact.
The fact that Randall himself was here today was a clear sign: this game was special.
UCLA usually invited between twenty and forty recruits to each Rose Bowl game, but this time, the list was star-studded.
The first name that stood out was Brett Hundley, quarterback from Chandler High, Arizona. Senior, class of 2011. Four-star recruit. Athletic, charismatic, the perfect prototype of a college quarterback. Everyone projected him as UCLA's immediate future, especially given the team's poor passing performance this season.
Further down the tent stood Ishmael Adams from Oaks Christian, the same elite private school where Jimmy Clausen had once shined. Class of 2012, also a four-star. He carried himself like a star, proud gaze, confident stance. The kind of kid who not only knew he was good but needed everyone else to remember it.
Another one he recognized as top-tier: Devin Lucien, wearing a blue cap and sunglasses, wide receiver from Crespi.
Derrick recognized him because he'd seen him just yesterday, in the game where Mater Dei mercilessly crushed Crespi and Andrew threw for seven touchdowns.
Lucien was Crespi's main receiver, one of the few bright spots in that offense, and despite yesterday's disastrous score, he had been among the team's best performers, along with their cornerback, the one who intercepted one of Andrew's passes.
There were many other promising prospects interested in UCLA. Yet everyone there was waiting for one name.
The recruit that national media: ESPN, Rivals, and 247Sports, all talked about in unison. Even outlets far removed from sports, like teen magazines that usually wrote about Disney stars.
Andrew Pritchett-Tucker. The phenomenon.
A junior player who already carried a five-star rating, something that was an anomaly in itself. Most athletes earned that coveted fifth star during their senior year, once their performance was fully proven. Andrew had achieved it long before that.
He ranked #3 nationally among all prospects in the class of 2012, regardless of position. Just a few months earlier, he'd been seventh, but his explosion in the Trinity League, the "SEC of high school football," and the way Mater Dei had dominated the league with Andrew's numbers had catapulted him into the top three.
Even so, there were voices insisting he should be the number one overall recruit, and in part, Derrick agreed, though he also understood why he wasn't.
General rankings didn't weigh quarterbacks the same way they did linemen or defensive players. The most physical positions, offensive line, defensive line, edge rusher, always held the advantage, since those rankings measured raw genetics: height, weight, and speed.
The #1 player in the class of 2012 was an offensive lineman from Florida, a 2-meter, 308 pounds giant who looked like a human wall.
The #2, a defensive end from Texas, with the agility of a sprinter and the build of a tank.
Both were what scouts called freak athletes, genetic rarities built to dominate physically from day one. You looked at them and could hardly believe they were sixteen-year-olds.
Andrew, on the other hand, played a position where raw power wasn't enough.
Even so, his physique was exceptional for a quarterback: 1.91 m tall, over 196 pounds, yet he ran the 40-yard dash at receiver times, faster than many running backs.
In the gym, his bench press, squat, and other key lifts were well above the standards for his position.
That's why he was labeled a perfect dual-threat: he could throw with pinpoint accuracy from the pocket or break defenses on the ground with the force of a power back.
He was, quite literally, an athletic anomaly at the most cerebral position in the sport.
But what truly set him apart wasn't just his physique or his stats, it was the calm with which he played.
His field vision, his control of tempo, the cold precision of his decisions , that blend of elite athleticism and icy composure made him unique.
That was why Derrick waited so anxiously: because if UCLA managed to land him, they wouldn't just be signing a quarterback, they'd be signing a leader capable of transforming the entire program.
Only a handful of quarterbacks ever became #1 overall recruits in their class across all positions. One of them was Jimmy Clausen.
Which makes it logical to think that if Andrew keeps up this pace, reaching deeper rounds of the playoffs or even winning the Section title, he'll rise to the #1 spot, overtaking the so-called freak athletes.
For many, it's seen as inevitable, something that will happen sooner or later when the rankings are updated again.
"Derrick," a voice sounded behind him.
He turned and saw Randall, his boss, approaching with a firm stride. His very presence commanded respect.
"Where's the kid?" Randall asked in a restrained tone, though his eyes betrayed his nervousness.
"He should be here any minute. Traffic must've slowed him down," Derrick replied confidently, though inwardly he glanced at his watch: 12:10.
Usually, all recruits were expected to arrive thirty minutes before kickoff, since at 12:20 they would be taken as a group down to the field.
Randall nodded, greeted Angela and Jade, and walked off to speak with other staff members, though he kept glancing toward the entrance from time to time.
"You better pray he shows up," Jade said, her voice dripping with irony.
Derrick gave her a sidelong look, one eyebrow raised. "Look who's talking. The one who never wants to come to these things. Don't tell me you're a secret subscriber to Andrew's channel," he teased with a smirk.
Jade lifted her eyes from her phone, frowning. Any of her classmates or friends wouldn't dare provoke her like that, but her parents were immune to her sharp tongue.
Before she could answer, another voice cut in.
"Hey, Derrick. I don't see the famous messiah you keep bragging about."
It was Carter, one of the regional scouts, the guy responsible for bringing in Brett Hundley, who at that moment was chatting animatedly with the quarterbacks coach.
Derrick let out a brief laugh. "He's on his way. Not everyone shows up an hour early to get the VIP treatment."
Carter smiled, half mocking, half respectful. "Touché. But Hundley's already tight with the staff. That's why he came early for a little tour. This is his third game here. I'm telling you, next year he's wearing blue and gold. It's practically a done deal."
"Yeah, I've heard that," Derrick replied evenly, keeping his composure.
The competition among recruiters was quiet but fierce, a subtle game of egos and patience. They traded playful jabs, yet everyone knew each commitment could mean a raise, a promotion, or greater prestige.
As for Derrick, his name was already well-known within the program, even before Andrew, but discovering him had boosted his reputation enormously. Especially after Andrew said in that one interview that, between USC and UCLA, he'd pick UCLA.
Even so, UCLA's expectations of actually landing Andrew were low. No one said it outright to Derrick, but he could see it in their faces, in their silences.
Not because they didn't want Andrew, but because everyone wanted him: Alabama, Georgia, Texas, Auburn, Florida, USC… all had him on their radar.
It was one thing to chase a three- or four-star recruit, and something entirely different to compete for a five-star.
The former were your everyday prospects: good athletes, disciplined, some with NFL potential if developed right.
But their market was regional.
Hundley, for example, was a talented prospect out of Arizona: four stars, solid, athletic, and charismatic. His profile fit UCLA perfectly.
That kind of player could be closely followed, visited at his school, invited to the Rose Bowl three or four times, and signed before Signing Day.
It was a local, territorial game, where the rivals were USC, Arizona State, Washington, Oregon, and the other Pac-10 college.
Andrew, on the other hand, belonged to a different scale. It wasn't just the regional schools that wanted him, every region did.
Those powerhouse programs rarely recruited outside their own territory, unless the player was a once-in-a-generation anomaly, and Andrew was exactly that.
That's why, even though UCLA had the geographic advantage, he lived less than an hour from campus, everyone knew his case was a national battlefield, with dozens of programs fighting for a single signature.
So the outlook with him was pessimistic, though not completely hopeless. There was still a sliver of hope.
Just as Carter was about to make another comment, a different kind of murmur spread through the tent. It was subtle at first but quickly rippled outward, silencing several conversations mid-sentence.
Carter turned his head toward the entrance. Derrick and Angela did the same. Even Jade, with her eternal mask of boredom, set her phone aside and looked up.
Through the blue canvas archway, two figures appeared, escorted by a staff member holding a clipboard.
Andrew, walking calmly, a metallic blue wristband on his arm, the kind that marked the top recruits, his eyes alert, scanning everything around him.
Walking beside him was a pretty girl, Madison, with a rehearsed smile and the posture of someone who enjoys being the center of attention. In one hand, she held a ice cream
'Finally,' Derrick thought.
For a moment, the air inside the tent seemed to compress. This wasn't just another recruit walking in.
This was the kid with a one million and a half viewers in tv, the #1 YouTube sensation, the quarterback ESPN and Rivals were already comparing to college legends, before he'd even graduated.
This was the teenager who'd made Justin Bieber tweet about his latest game.
Eyes followed him as he walked by, some with open admiration, others with quiet envy.
Ishmael Adams, leaning against a table, crossed his arms, sizing him up with a mix of respect and challenge.
The Crespi receiver lowered his gaze, uneasy, remembering the nightmare of facing Mater Dei less than twenty-four hours ago.
Derrick began moving through the crowd, weaving past parents, recruits, and coaches. As he walked, fragments of whispers reached his ears:
"That's the Mater Dei quarterback…"
"He's real."
"I saw him yesterday during dinner, seven touchdowns again!"
"Mom, Mom, it's him!" a young boy shouted, eyes wide with excitement.
The boy tugged hard on his mother's blouse, pointing straight at Andrew.
"Yes, honey, but stay here," she replied with a patient smile. "We came for your brother, let's not embarrass him."
His older brother, a three-star recruit with a strong build, watched the scene with his arms crossed. He tried to keep a serious expression, but deep down, he felt the same admiration as his little brother. He had seen all of Andrew's videos: the training routines, the advice segments, he had even incorporated some of them into his own strength program.
"Don't do anything stupi—" he managed to say before the boy bolted off.
The child ran straight toward Andrew, who had just finished a brief conversation with the staff member who'd guided them to the tent.
The man said goodbye with a polite smile and stepped away, leaving them on their own.
Andrew barely had time to react before feeling a sudden hug around his leg.
The boy looked up at him with a huge grin, eyes sparkling with excitement.
"Andrew! I'm a huge fan of your channel! I watch all your videos!" he exclaimed, full of energy.
Andrew looked down, surprised and amused by the boy's enthusiasm. He ruffled his hair and crouched slightly, smiling warmly.
"Yeah? Then you're part of the team," he said.
The boy's mother arrived seconds later, sighing, her expression a mix of embarrassment and gratitude.
"I'm so sorry, I couldn't stop him," she said.
"No problem," Andrew replied kindly. "Do you want a picture?"
The woman hesitated for a second, but the boy was already bouncing with excitement.
"Yes! Mom!?"
"Of course," she said, quickly pulling out her phone while the boy positioned himself next to Andrew.
Andrew crouched down for the picture, smiling as the boy beamed from ear to ear.
After the photo and a few exchanged words, the mother thanked Andrew and hurried away, aware of all the eyes now on them. She dragged her son along as he waved enthusiastically goodbye.
His older brother had stayed a few steps back, not wanting to become the center of attention, though now his little brother had a photo with Andrew, and he didn't.
Just then, Derrick approached with a genuine smile, "Hey, Andrew. You finally made it. Heavy traffic?" he asked, extending his hand.
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