The 27 Year Old Varsity Quarterback
ACT 1: FALL FROM GRACE
Scene 1: A dingy NYC apartment
[The apartment is cluttered with empty liquor bottles, crumpled papers, and rejection letters. JASON COLE, 27, disheveled and wearing a whiskey-stained robe, stares blankly at his laptop.]
Jason: (reading aloud) “We regret to inform you…” blah, blah, blah. (laughs bitterly) Another masterpiece rejected.
[He tosses the letter onto a pile of others. He grabs a bottle but it’s empty. His phone buzzes—a voicemail from his mom.]
Mom (voicemail): "Jason, honey, you need to come home. Forget that big city nonsense. We miss you... and you know Coach still hasn’t forgiven you for skipping graduation. Something about your eligibility? Anyway, come home. You’re not getting any younger.”
[Jason sighs, running a hand through his messy hair. He stares at a framed photo of his old high school football team, younger, brighter days.]
Jason: (to the photo) "Yeah, you miss me, don’t you? Freaking small-town ghosts..."
[He slams the photo face-down, grabs a duffle bag, and starts packing.]
ACT 2: HOMETOWN RETURN
Scene 2: Small-Town Diner
[Jason walks into the local diner, greeted by surprised looks. Behind the counter, MEGAN, 17, the bubbly cheer captain, recognizes him instantly.]
Megan: (excited) "Oh my God, Jason Cole! You’re like... a legend around here!"
Jason: (forced smile) "Yeah, well, legends gotta eat too."
Megan: (flirty) "Didn’t think I’d meet the great Jason Cole before my senior year’s over. You’re basically a myth at this point."
Jason: (smirks) "A myth, huh? Let me guess: You think I wrestled a bear in the middle of a game or something?"
Megan: (laughs) "No, but close. They say you threw a 50-yard touchdown with a broken wrist."
Jason: "Sounds about right. Let’s just say I peaked early."
[As Megan giggles, COACH BUCK walks in, still wearing his whistle like it’s part of his DNA. He freezes when he sees Jason.]
Coach Buck: "Cole?! You’ve got some nerve walking back into this town after what you pulled."
Jason: "Good to see you too, Coach. Don’t worry, I’m not here to cause trouble."
Coach Buck: (grumbles) "Damn right you’re not. You still owe me a championship ring."
[Pause. Jason looks confused.]
Coach Buck: "Turns out, son, you never officially graduated. Some clerical error. Technically... you’ve got a year of eligibility left."
Jason: (blinking) "Wait. Are you saying... I can still play?"
Coach Buck: "Not just play. Start. Our QB broke his leg last week. You’re it."
Jason: (stunned) "You’re kidding."
Coach Buck: "Do I look like I’m kidding?"
Jason: But Coach I’m 27 years. And the years have not been kind to me.
Coach Buck: Jason, you are our only hope.
ACT 3: CHAOS AND CHEER
Scene 3: Practice Field
[Jason, visibly hungover, tries to keep up with the high school team. The kids look skeptical, especially RICKY, the cocky wide receiver.]
Trey: (eyeing Jason) "Yo, Coach, who’s this dude? He looks like he just crawled out of a bar fight."
Ricky: "Yo, who let this dude out of rehab? My grandma could throw better than him."
Jason: (grinning) "Nice to meet you too, Usain Bolt."
Trey: "Nah, seriously, you’re Jason Cole? Man, my dad used to talk about you like you were Tom Brady or something."
Jason: "Well, your dad’s clearly a man of taste. You any good, or are you just here to look pretty?"
Trey: "Good? Man, I’m the reason we’re not 0-10. Watch and learn, Grandpa."
Ricky: “And what am I chopped liver? Can this ghost even throw a spiral?
Jason: (grinning) “Let’s see you catch this, big mouth."
[Jason fires a perfect pass that smacks Ricky right in the chest, knocking him over. The team laughs.]
Jason: "Any other questions queers?"
ACT 4: THE DINER
[Jason meets MEGAN, the cheer captain, at the local diner. She’s bubbly, flirtatious, and clearly intrigued by his bad-boy persona.]
Megan: (wide-eyed) "Jason Cole… the legend himself. I can’t believe you’re back."
Jason: "Yeah, well, legends don’t pay rent in New York."
Megan: "You know, tomorrow’s my birthday. Eighteen. And the big game. Feels like fate or something."
Jason: (awkward) "Yeah… fate. Cool."
[Megan leans in, lowering her voice.]
Megan: "Just so you know, everyone’s counting on you tomorrow. Don’t let us down, okay?"
Jason: (forcing a smile) "Sure. No pressure."
[As she walks away, Jason pulls out a little baggie of coke, sighs, and mutters to himself.]
Jason: "Just gotta get through one damn game."
ACT 5: Jason’s Mom’s Living Room
[Jason sits on the couch in his childhood home, still in his sweaty jersey, nursing a beer. His mom, MRS. COLE, a sweet but oblivious woman in her 50s, beams with pride as she places a plate of cookies in front of him. Framed family photos and Jason's old high school trophies line the shelves.]
Mrs. Cole: (sitting beside him) "I just can’t tell you how proud I am, Jason. It’s like you’re finally finding yourself again."
Jason: (sipping his beer) "Yeah, sure, Mom. Scoring touchdowns for a high school team at 27. Real inspiring stuff."
Mrs. Cole: "Oh, stop it. Don’t sell yourself short! You’ve turned your life around since New York. You came back home, you’re playing football again, and—" (she leans forward, lowering her voice) "—you’ve got such a beautiful girlfriend. Megan is a doll!"
Jason: (choking on his beer) "Mom, she’s 18."
Mrs. Cole: (clapping her hands) "Exactly! A high school cheerleader! You’re living the dream! It’s like a second chance at life."
Jason: (rubbing his temples) "Yeah, some dream. Pretty sure I’ll wake up in handcuffs one day."
ACT 6: The Night Before the Big Game – The Bar
[Jason, Trey, and Ricky walk into a dive bar on the edge of town. The neon lights flicker above them, casting a dull glow over the dark room. A few locals glance up, but quickly turn their attention back to their drinks. Jason leads the way, the other two trailing behind, already feeling the buzz from a couple of beers.]
Jason: "Alright, fellas, listen up. Tomorrow’s the big game, right? You’ve got to loosen up a little, blow off some steam."
Trey: (laughing) "Man, you’re crazy. We’ve got a game to play. I ain’t trying to end up in a hospital before kickoff."
Ricky: (squinting, already tipsy) "Yeah, but I’m not gonna be the only one sober tomorrow, right? We’re gonna party tonight."
[Jason heads to the bar, grabbing a round of shots. He hands them to Trey and Ricky, his eyes already wild.]
Jason: "Listen, we’re all in this together. It’s not like we’re gonna remember much of the game anyway. Might as well make tonight count."
[They all take the shots, and Jason leans in with a devilish grin.]
Jason: "And I’ve got something that’ll make tomorrow even more fun."
[Jason pulls out a small bag of cocaine from his jacket pocket. Trey and Ricky eye it with a mix of excitement and hesitation.]
Trey: (nervously) "You serious, man? Tomorrow’s a big deal."
Jason: (snorting a line) "I’m serious. This is how the real winners do it. You think the Panthers don’t have their own tricks up their sleeves?"
Ricky: (laughing) "You mean that whole ‘gangsta’ thing they’ve got going on?"
Jason: (grinning) "Exactly. But we’re not gonna let them out-crazy us, right?"
[He pushes the bag toward them. Trey reluctantly bends over, and they all snort a line. The energy in the bar shifts as their mood picks up.]
Trey: (eyes wide, suddenly alert) "Whoa, man... this is different. I feel like I could run through a wall."
Ricky: (laughing loudly) "Damn, this stuff’s stronger than I thought!"
[They keep drinking, the night spiraling into chaos. Trey dances with a couple of girls, Ricky starts yelling at the jukebox, and Jason stares at the bottle of whiskey on the counter, smirking to himself.]
Jason: (to himself) "Tomorrow, we’re unstoppable. This is it. The last ride."
ACT 7: The Morning After – Jason’s Bedroom
[The sunlight streams through the blinds, casting harsh beams across the room. Jason’s old varsity jacket is tossed carelessly over a chair, and the remnants of last night’s chaos are scattered on the floor—empty beer cans, a broken cigarette lighter, and a bag of cocaine that’s now empty. Jason’s eyes flutter open, his head pounding. He groans, reaching for the side of his bed and finding nothing but a dry bottle of whiskey. He drags himself to sit up, holding his forehead. His breath smells stale, his stomach unsettled. The world feels off-kilter.]
[He stumbles out of bed, nearly tripping on the jacket as he heads for the bathroom. He glances at his phone—10:45 AM. The game is only hours away.]
Jason: (to himself, wincing) "Shit…"
[He stares at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, looking like a ghost of the man he was the night before. His eyes are bloodshot, his hair messy. He rubs his face and tries to gather himself, but the pounding headache and dry mouth make everything feel worse.]
[There’s a knock at the door. Jason doesn’t answer immediately. The knock comes again, louder this time. He sighs and heads back to the bedroom, opening the door. Trey and Ricky are standing in the hallway, both looking equally wrecked.]
Trey: (rubbing his eyes) "Man, you look like hell."
Ricky: (half-smiling) "Yeah, you don’t exactly look like the MVP today, bro."
Jason: (grimacing) "I feel worse than I look."
[Trey leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms. Ricky just stands there, holding his stomach, trying not to puke.]
Trey: "Dude, we fucked up last night."
Jason: "No kidding."
Ricky: (nodding) "I don’t even remember half of it. All I know is, I woke up with a headache that feels like a damn freight train."
[Jason grabs a bottle of water from his dresser and takes a long drink, the cold liquid doing little to ease his discomfort.]
Jason: (exhales deeply) "We’re supposed to be out there today. You know, playing for the team, for the town. And we’re... we're like this."
Trey: (pauses, looking at him seriously) "Yeah, well... that’s the price, right? You wanna be the guy who turns it all around, but it’s not easy. Last night was wild, man. But we’ve got the game. And I don’t know about you, but I’m still ready to take that field."
Jason: (laughs bitterly) "Yeah? You sure about that? 'Cause I feel like my brain’s still in the bar."
Ricky: (half-smiling, trying to crack a joke) "I think I left part of my soul there, too."
[Jason stares at them both for a moment, something shifting in his gaze. He throws the bottle down onto the bed and stands up straight, wiping his face. It’s a slow process, but there’s something about hearing them still talk about the game that ignites a flicker of determination.]
Jason: (gritting his teeth) "Alright. Alright, let’s do this. We don’t get to just walk away from it, right?"
Trey: (smirking) "Hell no. I’m not going out like this."
Ricky: "You kidding me? I’m not missing that game. We made it this far, we can make it through the next few hours."
[Jason nods, the fog in his head clearing just a little.]
Jason: "Okay. One shot. We get through today. Then we can crash later. But right now, we’ve got a game to play."
[Trey slaps Jason on the back, hard enough to jolt him forward.]
Trey: "That’s the spirit! Let’s go get some breakfast, get our heads straight."
Ricky: (groaning) "Yeah, as long as it's greasy."
[Jason watches them walk down the hall, a moment of clarity washing over him, though his body feels like it’s still stuck in the haze. He looks at his varsity jacket on the chair for a long moment before pulling it on. Despite everything, he's going to face the game. He has no choice.]
ACT 8: The Diner – Morning After
[The diner is bustling with the quiet hum of the early morning crowd. Jason, Trey, and Ricky sit in a booth near the window, their faces tired and drained from the night before. Jason’s hair is still disheveled, and Trey and Ricky both look like they’ve been run over by a truck. A waitress in her 60s, MRS. WILKES, comes over to take their order, her glasses perched low on her nose. She looks them over for a moment, a smile spreading across her weathered face.]
Mrs. Wilkes: (with a warm grin) "Well, look at you three handsome young men. You boys still got that sparkle in your eyes, don’t you?"
[Jason looks up at her, slightly surprised by the comment. Trey gives her a half-smile, clearly trying to shake off his hangover.]
Trey: "Uh, thanks, ma’am. Just trying to get some breakfast."
Ricky: (slightly groaning) "Yeah, make it greasy. We need to get back on our feet."
[Mrs. Wilkes places a hand on her hip, studying them with a look that’s oddly perceptive for someone her age.]
Mrs. Wilkes: "You boys are about to play the game of your life, huh? Big one, huh?"
[Jason nods, his face a mask of uncertainty, trying to keep it together despite the raging headache.]
Jason: "Yeah, something like that."
Mrs. Wilkes: (leaning in a little) "You know, I’ve seen a lot of kids come through here over the years. Some of ‘em made it big. Some of ‘em didn’t. But there’s something about you three. You look like you’re holding onto something. Something more than just a game."
[The air in the booth feels a little heavier now, her words hanging in the space between them. Jason and Trey exchange glances, unsure of what to say.]
Trey: (grinning nervously) "We’re just here for breakfast, ma’am."
[Mrs. Wilkes chuckles softly, her eyes twinkling with something unspoken.]
Mrs. Wilkes: "I know, I know. But I’ve got a feeling about you, son." (points at Jason) "You look like a man who’s about to burn”
[Jason stares at her, confused, as Trey looks at Ricky, clearly unsettled by the strange vibe Mrs. Wilkes is giving off.]
Ricky: (awkwardly) "Uh, thanks for the advice, ma’am, but… you know, we’re just here to eat."
[Mrs. Wilkes doesn’t break eye contact with Jason, her voice low but filled with a strange certainty.]
Mrs. Wilkes: "I’m not here to give you advice, son. I’m here to warn you." (pauses) "The choices you make today—they don’t affect you."
[There’s a long silence as she stands there, her eyes still locked on Jason’s. Then she snaps out of it, smiling sweetly again, like nothing happened.]
Mrs. Wilkes: "Anyway, what’ll it be, boys?"
[The guys look at each other, the tension still hanging in the air. Jason shakes his head, unsure of what just transpired.]
Jason: (frowning) "Uh, bacon and eggs… coffee. Black."
[Mrs. Wilkes nods and walks away, leaving them in silence. Trey and Ricky exchange confused looks, but Jason can’t shake the weight of her words.]
Trey: (whispering) "What was that all about?"
Ricky: "I don’t know, but that was creepy as hell."
[Jason rubs his forehead, the eerie feeling settling deeper.]
Jason: "What an old hag."
[They sit in quiet discomfort, waiting for their food to arrive, the strange warning from Mrs. Wilkes hanging over them like a cloud.]
ACT 9 – Pre-Game
[Jason stands in the grimy bathroom, leaning against the wall. He’s wearing his old varsity jacket—its leather sleeves slightly cracked, the patches faded but still visible. A cigarette dangles loosely from his lips. He exhales slowly, his eyes fixed on the mirror. The bathroom is quiet, save for the distant sounds of students passing by in the hallway.]
[The door creaks open, and Megan steps inside, glancing at him with concern. She’s still in her cheerleader uniform, her cheer bag slung over her shoulder. Her face softens when she sees Jason.]
Megan: (gently) "Jason… what are you doing in here?"
[Jason doesn’t respond immediately, just takes another drag off the cigarette, his gaze distant.]
Jason: (with a sigh) "You wouldn’t believe me if I told you."
Megan: (walking over, standing by the sink) "Try me. You’re wearing your old jacket, but I don’t think it’s the same Jason who wore it last time."
[Jason laughs bitterly, flicking the ash into the sink.]
Jason: "Yeah, well... guess it’s hard to live up to your own past when you’re stuck in the present, huh?"
Megan: "You can’t keep running from it, Jason. The past, the mistakes—it doesn’t matter right now."
Jason: (looking down, voice cold) "But it does matter, Megan. Everything I’ve screwed up… it’s all piled on me."
Megan: (softly) "No, it doesn’t. What matters is right here. Right now. You’re not some washed-up high school athlete anymore. You’re you. And you’ve got a shot—just one shot—to make something real out of it."
[Jason meets her eyes in the mirror, his face a mixture of doubt and frustration. He puts out the cigarette on the sink's edge, his hands shaking slightly.]
Jason: "I don’t know if I can do this, Megan. I’m too messed up."
Megan: (stepping closer) "You’re not messed up. You’re human, Jason. And right now, you’ve got the chance to be more than just the guy in the jacket. You can still change it."
Jason: (shaking his head) "Maybe I don’t deserve to change. Maybe I’m just a joke."
Megan: "Stop." (gently grabs his arm) "You’re not a joke. You’re my guy. Just take it one step at a time. Play for you. Play for us."
[Jason looks at her, his tough exterior cracking just a little. For a moment, he looks like he might break, but he swallows it down and forces a small, uncertain smile.]
Jason: "I’ll try. For you, Megan. For us."
Megan: (smiling) "That’s all I’m asking for."
[Jason pulls her into a quick hug, his varsity jacket crinkling as he holds her. He exhales a deep breath, the weight of the moment hitting him. He pulls back and looks at her one last time before heading for the door.]
Jason: "Let’s do this. I’m ready."
[Megan watches him leave, her smile lingering as she knows he’s not quite there yet, but he’s trying. Jason steps out of the bathroom, his jacket feeling a little heavier now, but his heart a little lighter.]
ACT 10 : THE BIG GAME AND THE BIGGER LOW
Jason’s team, the Lions, is warming up on the field. The visiting team, the Ridgeview Panthers, pulls up in an old bus blasting music. The Panthers are from the rougher side of town and are known for their physical, no-holds-barred playstyle.]
Trey: (to Jason, nervously) "Man, these dudes don’t mess around. You see how they’re looking at us? Like they’re ready to eat us alive."
Jason: (sniffing and jittery) "Good. Let ‘em. Fear is just adrenaline in disguise."
[The Panthers jog onto the field, glaring and shouting at the Lions. When one of the Panthers makes eye contact with Jason, he mockingly runs his finger across his throat.]
Panther Player: "Hope you got good insurance, old man!"
Jason: (to himself) "Faggot."
Scene 6: First Half – The Beatdown
[The Panthers dominate the first half, playing with ruthless aggression and unapologetic swagger. Every time they score, they break into choreographed dances, taunting the Lions.]
Announcer: "AND THE PANTHERS SCORE AGAIN! They’re putting on a clinic—and a dance show!"
[The Lions look demoralized. Trey gets tackled hard on a run, and a Panther player stands over him, yelling.]
Panther Player: "You thought you could hang with us? Stay down, little man!"
[Trey scrambles to his feet, fuming, but Jason pulls him aside.]
Jason: "Don’t let ‘em get in your head. Focus. We’re not losing to a bunch of wannabe Worldstars."
ACT 11 : Halftime – The Speech
[The Lions trail 28-3. Coach Buck is yelling incoherently, but the players are too shell-shocked to listen. Jason stands up, pacing with manic energy. Trey watches him nervously.]
Jason: "Alright, shut up! Everyone listen!"
[The room goes quiet. Jason points to Trey and the rest of the team, his voice raw and intense.]
Jason: "You think this is bad? This isn’t bad. Bad is rejection letters. Bad is getting evicted. Bad is waking up with nothing but regret. This? This is a game. And you know what games are? Winnable. These clowns think they’ve already won because they dance and talk loud. But guess what? They’re just as scared as you are. They just hide it better. So get your asses out there and show them who we are!"
[The team erupts in cheers. Trey, hyped up, slaps Jason on the back.]
Trey: "Let’s go, man! Let’s show ‘em what’s up!"
[As the team storms out, Jason sneaks off to the parking lot to meet Lonnie, his dealer. Trey hesitates but eventually follows him]
[The stadium lights buzz in the cold night air. The field is bathed in artificial light, casting long shadows across the turf. The crowd roars as the two teams head into their respective locker rooms. Jason, his jersey soaked with sweat, walks off the field with Trey, both of them looking ragged after a brutal first half. They trail behind the coaches, who are shouting at the players, trying to rally the team for the second half.]
Trey: (grinning despite the tension) "Man, this is a shit show. We’re down big, and you know it."
Jason: (nodding) "Tell me about it. They’ve got us beat in every damn way."
[They head toward the locker room, but just as they approach the entrance, Lonnie—a scrappy, wiry guy from the wrong side of town who Jason recognizes as an old acquaintance—steps out from behind the bleachers. Lonnie is wearing a faded hoodie and jeans, but he walks with a cocky swagger that draws attention, even from the players.]
Lonnie: (grinning) "What’s up, you two? Thought I’d catch you in your prime."
[Jason stops in his tracks, a sour look crossing his face as he spots Lonnie. Trey, equally surprised, steps up beside Jason.]
Trey: (squinting) "Lonnie? What the hell are you doing here?"
[Lonnie shrugs, his eyes scanning the field like he owns the place.]
Lonnie: "Came to see the show, obviously. Wasn’t sure if you two were gonna show up today, but here you are, making it interesting."
Jason: (frowning) "This isn’t the time for you to pop up, man."
Lonnie: (smirking) "I know, I know. Just wanted to drop a little... motivation."
[He steps closer, lowering his voice so only Jason and Trey can hear.]
Lonnie: "You know, I heard the coaches in there. Talking about how the team’s losing their fire. They think you guys are washed up. Hell, they think you are, Jason."
[Jason’s jaw tightens at the mention of his name, the sting of the insult feeling all too familiar. Trey looks at Jason, sensing the tension rising.]
Trey: "What do you want, Lonnie?"
Lonnie: (raising his hands) "Just a little truth. You know, like when we were younger—when you were actually good, Jason. Before you decided to get wasted and blow it all up."
[Jason clenches his fists, anger flashing in his eyes, but he tries to control it, leaning against the bleachers to steady himself.]
Jason: (quietly) "You don’t know shit about me, Lonnie."
Lonnie: (nodding) "Yeah, maybe not. But you know what I do know? I know what happens when you let a game go by, when you let people talk down to you. It eats at you, doesn’t it? It gets under your skin."
[Jason feels the anger building, his mind starting to cloud, but Lonnie doesn’t give him a chance to respond. Instead, he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small, folded-up baggie.]
Lonnie: "I got something that’ll get you back in the game, Jason. A little something to take the edge off, make sure you remember who the hell you are."
[Jason looks down at the bag, then back up at Lonnie, a flicker of hesitation passing across his face.]
Trey: (warning tone) "What the hell is that, man?"
Lonnie: (grinning) "Come on, Trey. You know what it is. This’ll light a fire under him, make him remember he’s got something to prove."
[Jason stares at the bag, his head pounding from both the alcohol and the pressure. His fingers itch, a part of him tempted to take it, to drown out the voices in his head. He’s been down this road before, but the stakes tonight feel higher than ever.]
Jason: (gritting his teeth) "What’s your angle, Lonnie?"
[Lonnie steps closer, his voice a low, knowing whisper.]
Lonnie: "Simple. You win this game, and I don’t owe you anything. You lose, Jason, and you owe me $1,000. You’ll be glad you took this, trust me."
[Jason looks up at Lonnie, a flicker of disbelief on his face, but it’s quickly replaced by a dark resolve. Trey stands between them, shaking his head.]
Trey: "This is bullshit. Don’t do it, Jason."
Lonnie: (smiling) "Yeah, well, don’t forget—when the pressure’s on, we all make choices. This one could be the difference."
[Jason holds the bag in his hand for a moment, staring at it. Trey grabs his arm, pulling him back slightly.]
Trey: (serious) "Man, don't fall for this. It’s not you. You can win this game on your own."
[Jason looks back at Trey, his face unreadable. He stares at the field, the roar of the crowd a distant hum in his ears, the weight of the decision pulling him deeper into the chaos of his own mind.]
Jason: (muttering) "I don’t know, Trey..."
[For a brief moment, everything feels out of his control. The pain from the past, the pressure of the game, the weight of the world crushing him down. Lonnie’s voice pulls him back to reality.]
Lonnie: (chuckling) "Take the damn bag, Jason. I’m not gonna be around forever."
[Jason looks down at the bag, his breath shallow, his hands trembling slightly. He slips the bag into his pocket and walks off without another word, Trey following closely behind.]
Trey: (under his breath) "You better not screw this up, man."
[As they walk toward the locker room, Jason’s head spins. The temptation pulls at him, but deep down, he knows there’s no turning back. The game, his future, it’s all on the line now.]
ACT 12: The Comeback
[Jason and Trey return to the field, buzzing with newfound energy. The second half starts with a bang as the Lions begin clawing their way back.]
Announcer: "AND THE LIONS SCORE! What a turnaround!"
[Trey runs with reckless abandon, breaking tackles and scoring twice. After one touchdown, he mimics the Panthers’ dance moves, taunting them back.]
Trey: (to a Panther player) "How you like that, huh? Thought we were soft?"
[Jason plays like a man possessed, throwing perfect passes and juking defenders. The Panthers grow frustrated and start committing penalties.]
Panther Coach: (yelling) "Get your heads in the game! Don’t let them punk you like this!"
Scene 9: The Final Play
[With seconds left on the clock, the Lions trail by five. Jason calls a risky play—a fake handoff to Trey so he can run it himself. The Panthers, expecting Trey to get the ball, charge him hard.]
Announcer: "IT’S A FAKE! COLE KEEPS IT HIMSELF!"
[Jason sprints downfield, dodging tackles and diving into the end zone as the buzzer sounds. The crowd erupts.]
Announcer: "TOUCHDOWN! THE LIONS WIN! HOMETOWN HERO RETURNS!"
[The Panthers look stunned as the Lions celebrate. Jason and Trey embrace, their victory bittersweet as the weight of their choices looms.]
Scene 9: The School Parking Lot – Late Night
[Jason steps outside, still in his jersey, the cold night air hitting his face. Megan, his newly-18 girlfriend and cheerleading captain, is waiting by his car, twirling her hair.]
Megan: "Jason! Oh my God, that was insane! You were like… actually good at football."
[Jason smirks, leaning against his car and lighting a cigarette.]
Jason: "Yeah, well, I had to be good at something. Writing didn’t exactly work out."
Megan: (giggling) "Yeah, no offense, but you suck at writing. Like, really bad. I tried reading that thing you wrote? What was it called? Rainy Streets of Regret? I didn’t even get it."
Jason: (dryly) "Glad I could inspire you."
Megan: (beaming) "But football? You’re amazing at it! I still can’t believe it’s even, like, legal for you to play high school football."
Jason: (laughs, takes a drag) "Yeah, me neither, but don’t overthink it, babe. Loopholes are what make America great."
[Megan steps closer, wrapping her arms around his waist. Jason stares into the distance, his smirk fading slightly as reality starts to creep in.]
Megan: "So… what’s next? You gonna take us to State?"
Jason: (pauses, then grins faintly) "One game at a time, Megan. One game at a time."
Megan: You know, I’ve never had sex with a 27 year old.
Jason: Me neither kid. Me neither.
[She giggles, leaning her head against his shoulder. Jason flicks his cigarette away and stares up at the stars, his eyes hollow despite the victory. The camera pans up to the night sky as the distant sound of cheering fades into silence.]
Fade to black.