# March 3, 2016
#-1. Oahu, Hawaii
#-2. Honolulu, Kahuku CDP
#-3. Kahuku High School
NFHS. The National Federation of State High School Associations.
This organization was established to systematically manage all high school sports in the United States. Their biggest priority is preventing overexertion. Specifically, they enforce strict limits on training time. Regardless of the sport, high school team practices cannot exceed two hours per day after sunrise.
If you break this rule, the penalties are severe: heavy fines, bans from competitions, or even disqualification. Of course, this doesn't stop personal workouts; with a bit of diligence, you can train as much as you want.
The man walking beside me was telling me things I already knew. He likely thought I was clueless, never dreaming that I am currently living my second life. I watched his back as he stepped forward.
"Everyone, listen up!" Coach Travis barked. "...."
"Starting today, I have someone to introduce to you!"
Coach Travis stepped aside, and I strode forward. As I stood before the group, the coach made the introduction.
"Dwayne Moi Stone! You've probably heard his name at least once! Starting this semester, he'll be playing for Kahuku!"
I felt a barrage of gazes. Some were curious, but several were openly hostile—aggressive, even. I expected this. In this place, there are people who will become friends and others who will start as enemies. But for now, I didn't care. It was just another obstacle to face and overcome.
"Hi. I'm Dwayne Moi Stone. I'm from Paia, Maui. I'm an islander who has lived in Hawaii my whole life."
"What a suck," a voice sneered.
"Who said that?" Coach Travis demanded.
The air grew heavy with silence. The voice had come from the far left—from the group glaring at me most intensely. I locked eyes with them.
"If you're planning on hazing the freshman, stop right now!" Travis warned.
"I won't tolerate it. Moi is a player wanted by every team in the country. Mater Dei has been salivating over him for five years! He's joined us, and he's going to be a major asset next season. So, introduce yourselves properly."
After a brief, scattered round of applause, a voice rang out from the left again. The speaker was wide-shouldered with a massive build and thick, curly hair falling over his shoulders. His face was a mask of grumpiness.
"Coach!"
"Yeah?"
"Show us what he's actually got!"
"Yeah! Show us!"
Whistle!
One ringleader, two henchmen. Judging by the reaction of the crowd, these guys would likely become the captains once the seniors graduated. And they were undoubtedly Huamatu. Since they were a trio of brothers, the math added up. They definitely knew who I was—whose son I was, whose grandson I was, and exactly what my grandfather represented to their clan. All that old, festering resentment was being directed at me.
Coach Travis started to decline.
"Sioele, I know you're curious, but Moi hasn't officially played football yet—"
"It's okay. I'll do it," I interrupted.
"What?"
"I said I'll do it. Test me like anyone else."
"Are you sure?"
"Yup."
I accepted the challenge. I don't know about the Huamatu, but a Stone never runs away. That is what I learned from my grandfather and father.
As the crowd buzzed with curiosity, I prepared. High school football teams use standardized tests depending on the position. For linemen, it's a test of strength and tackling. For wide receivers, it's a 1-on-1 drill to see if they can beat a defender and catch the ball.
And for a quarterback?
"Are you ready?!"
"Yes!"
Naturally, they check the arm. I looked at a bin placed about 50 yards away. I intended to drop the "pigskin" right into it. Some call the ball a "Duke," others just call it a football. Most of the time, we just play.
Under the watchful eyes of everyone on the field, I tapped the ball once and let it fly with a light, fluid motion. The ball soared smoothly through the air and then...
Thump.
It dropped perfectly into the target. A cheer of surprise erupted from the crowd. But I didn't stop. I jogged further back to increase the distance and asked for another ball. At this point, it was roughly 65 yards. A football field is about 120 yards long; I was throwing from well past the halfway mark.
I glanced between the target and the open air, tapped the pigskin again, and launched it.
"...."
"...."
This ball rose with more power than the last, spiraling beautifully. It reached its apex and began a steady descent, finding its home in the bin once again. A dull but clear sound echoed across the field.
Thunk!
"OHHHHHHHHH!"
"LET'S GO!"
A group of players rushed over, shouting and surrounding me. The three brothers, however, stayed back.
Passing isn't everything for a quarterback, but at the very least, this would prevent anyone from trying to screw with me during my first days at school. In that sense, I made a great start.
In the lingering excitement, a few players stayed by my side.
"Damn! How did you do that?!"
"You've really never played organized football before?!"
"I'm Joe. I'm a wide receiver. Remember me, 'cause I'm the guy catching your passes next season."
"I'm Cire Loo. Offensive line. Don't worry, I've got your back."
I walked toward the coach with my new friends. Coach Travis greeted me with a wide grin.
"So? What number do you want?"
Honestly, I had thought about this a lot. Jersey numbers matter. In this life, the most popular number for a quarterback is 12, because of Tom Brady. In my previous life, it was 16. So, I chose the middle ground.
"14."
Several heads turned toward a senior. Apparently, that was his number.
"Whatever," the senior shrugged.
"I'm graduating anyway. Have at it." "YEAHHH!"
"Let's go!"
The crowd cheered again just for the choice of a number. Soon, I said my goodbyes and left the field. As I walked away, I felt intense gazes—from the cheerleaders. The girl surrounded by the most friends seemed to be the leader. Since she was likely a senior, I looked elsewhere.
A girl with sun-kissed skin and black hair was biting her lower lip. She was attractive. I gave her a quick wink, and a chorus of giggles erupted behind me. I have no intention of avoiding girls, though I don't plan on being a playboy either.
I found the bus stop and boarded the bus to Honolulu. It was a one-hour ride to my grandmother's. I needed to sleep. My first encounter with the high school wasn't as bad as I'd feared.
# April 9, 2016
#-1. War Memorial Sports Complex, Maui
Today was a very special day.
Crack!
"Strike three! You're out!!"
Every time the boy on the mound struck someone out with a blistering fastball, a collective groan of despair rose from the scouts in the stands.
"Today should be declared a national day of mourning," one scout muttered.
"You're telling me."
"Dammit... why football?"
Since he was 13, the boy on the mound had been drawing MLB scouts to Hawaii. For three years, he had been flooded with offers from high schools. Full scholarships were the bare minimum; some private schools had even offered secret under-the-table payments in the hundreds of thousands of dollars.
But it was all in vain. The boy's will was iron—as was his family's. Dwayne Moi Stone, the 15-year-old who dominated the Little League world with nothing but a fastball, was leaving baseball forever today.
Crack!
"Strike out!!"
His Little League career totals: 99 wins, 0 losses. 26 perfect games, 38 no-hitters. 91 shutouts. His ERA was, naturally, 0.00. It was simply impossible for young teens to hit a pitch thrown at a college-level velocity.
Crack!
"Strike out!!"
Having completed 14 consecutive strikeouts, Dwayne had only one out left. Some scouts, unable to watch the end, left early. Those who stayed felt the sting of a "breakup."
"If we had him, we'd be guaranteed a championship."
Crack!
"Strike out!!"
Moi, having recorded all fifteen outs via strikeout, walked proudly to the dugout. The remaining scouts lingered, bonded by their shared heartbreak.
"He probably could have hit 110 mph eventually."
"And we'll never get to see it."
"Sigh."
As the scouts trudged away, Moi's teammates tried to give him a victory toss. He was too big and heavy for them to actually lift, but he thanked them with a bright smile.
"Don't thank me. I'm the one who's grateful," said Thomas Bradley, the head coach of Central Maui. He meant it 100%. After joining the team, Moi had taken the lead in stopping internal bullying. He had even made sure a positive culture would continue after his departure. He was a prodigy, but also a leader far more mature than his years.
The retirement of a 15-year-old Little Leaguer isn't usually news. However...
[Dwayne Moi Stone Retires: The 100-MPH Wonder Boy Quits Baseball for Football - Sports Illustrated]
[Why 30 MLB Teams are in Mourning Today: The Undisputed Top Prospect for the 2019 Draft Quits - ESPN]
[Why is Football the Most Popular Sport? The Case of Dwayne Moi Stone Tells Us Everything - Athlon Sports]
Surprisingly, every major sports media outlet in the U.S. carried the news.
# April 17, 2016
#-1. Restaurant Aloha, Maui
One man's crisis is another man's opportunity. Steve Smith, coach of Oak Hill Academy in Virginia and a former NBA player, truly believed that.
"Basketball is the better choice for your son," he pleaded.
"...."
Oak Hill, a traditional basketball powerhouse, came with an incredible offer: a full scholarship, a suite-level dormitory, a dedicated coach, and a private chef. But despite the unprecedented proposal, he was met with a polite but firm rejection. Steve Smith was ushered out within 20 minutes. Outside, he saw a familiar face.
"Alex?"
Alex Cooper, the coach from Detroit Jesuit High in the same state, had been kicked out an hour earlier. The two men sat by the shore, huddled together in shared misery.
"...What was your offer?"
"Anything he wanted."
"I see."
"And yours?"
"The same."
Never had prestigious basketball programs been so coldly rejected by a middle schooler with zero official basketball experience. It felt humiliating.
"Today..."
"Shall we keep this between us?"
"Fair enough."
They turned and walked in opposite directions. Moi watched them from his bedroom window. Aunt Melissia was standing beside him.
"Hmm. Is football really that great?"
"It's not about it being 'great,' Auntie."
"?"
"It's destiny."
Melissia smacked her nephew's back at his nonchalant answer and told him to come help at the restaurant.
"I'll change and be right there."
Melissia paused as she left the room, looking at her favorite nephew. He had been mature and considerate since he was a child. And his manners? There wasn't a girl in town who didn't have a crush on him. He grew up so well, she thought, heading downstairs.
Moi finished changing his clothes and looked at his list. Step five. He looked at the fifth item in his plan to become the greatest NFL quarterback:
[[ 5. Become a starter immediately after entering high school! ]]
His desk was already covered with trophies and academic awards from the past five years of excellence.