Out an original screenplay by Matt Hubsher

Matt Hubsher 3313 Hamilton Street #1 Philadelphia, PA 19104 484.612.5293 mjh335@drexel.edu

INT. LOCKER ROOM - NIGHT Empty. Bags and football gear are scattered about the room.

From outside--rowdy CHEERS, SCREAMS, and the CLACKING of spikes on the floor. The door bursts open and a celebrating FOOTBALL TEAM runs in. #18, WES COLVIN, leads the team's charge and throws his helmet in the air. He jumps atop the locker block and pretends to ride it like a horse. WES TO THE CHAMPIONSHIP! HO!

The rest of the team responds with cheers and laughs. #44, TAYLOR HIGHSMITH, jumps and shoves him. TAYLOR Man, get your dumb ass off the lockers! Wes reaches down, grabs Taylor's arm, and raises it up. WES (chanting) MVP! MVP! MVP! The team joins in. Taylor laughs.

COACH FLYNN enters, football in hand and a few ASSISTANT COACHES behind him. Colvin! FLYNN Off the lockers! Wes hops off the lockers and lands

The room hushes quickly. next to Taylor. All eyes on Flynn.

FLYNN (CONT'D) Can somebody give me directions to the nearest NFL stadium? I have an important meeting there in a week. The team cheers. Flynn laughs and settles them down.

FLYNN (CONT'D) Alright, alright. I'm goddamn proud of you boys.

2. FLYNN (CONT'D) You played a hard four quarters out there. Mistakes were made, but I can't ask you to be perfect. #56, DANNY WARE, play-elbows Wes in the gut. Wes pushes him off and glances around--a few eyes look toward him. FLYNN (CONT'D) I can only ask you to be better than that sorry excuse for an opponent the great state of North Carolina has to offer for us! The team cheers again. Flynn holds up the football in his hand--the cheers quickly cease. Game ball. FLYNN (CONT'D) Highsmith, hands up. Everybody applauds. Wes pats

Flynn tosses it to Taylor. him on the back.

FLYNN (CONT'D) Now, quick study session before bedtime--what are we? TEAM CHAMPIONS! They all converge on the coach and put their hands up in the center of the crowd. FLYNN Sorry, my hearing aid must be acting up, I can't hear a damn thing. (yelling) What are we!? TEAM CHAMPIONS! FLYNN One more!? TEAM CHAMPIONS! FLYNN Win, on three! One, two, three-TEAM WIN!

3. FLYNN Again! TEAM WIN! FLYNN Again! TEAM WIN! FLYNN Alright! Get changed, see you bright and early on Monday. The team applauds and cheers as Flynn walks through the crowd toward Wes. FLYNN (CONT'D) Colvin, my office. INT. COACH'S OFFICE - MOMENTS LATER Flynn sits at his desk--Wes stands across from him. WES First, just wanna say I'm really sorry for that fumble. Won't happen again, I just lost focus for second. FLYNN You've been losing focus for a second all season, Wes. WES Is that why we're undefeated? FLYNN We're undefeated because of a concerted team effort. It doesn't matter how many touchdowns you score. WES Well, yeah, but-FLYNN No but, Wes. (beat) Look, I'm not gonna sit here and tell you I'm not happy with your performances. You've been nothing short of spectacular. (MORE)

4. FLYNN (CONT'D) But stop making those dumb mistakes trying to be more than that. That audible on third down--why did you-WES I read a corner blitz and adjusted. FLYNN And that just happened to get you a thirty yard run? WES Would you rather I not keep the chains moving? FLYNN I wanted you to run the play I called. There's a specific gameplan that I make, and you're not above it, no matter how quick your feet are or how well you can read a defense. We've been through this song and dance all season long. (beat) Scouts are asking about you, Wes. A whole lot. WES (perking up) What are they saying? FLYNN They're impressed with you but they know...they can tell you're not a team player. WES I'm a team player. I wanna win as much as anyone else. FLYNN You know how many times you changed the play at the line tonight and ended up keeping the ball? WES I don't know, like, four, maybe five-FLYNN Ten times, Wes. That can't happen, especially in the championship, and especially if you want D-one scouts knocking down your door. (MORE)

5. FLYNN (CONT'D) Run the plays I give you. Do I make myself clear? WES Say I see the safety's coming and the play's not-FLYNN I don't want to hear anymore! we clear? Wes defiantly throws his hands up. WES No, not really. FLYNN I am not asking you to stop, I'm telling you. For the team. And for your own good, since that's what seems to matter to you. (beat) If you do not run the plays, you will find yourself on the bench. Clear? WES (sigh) Yeah. FLYNN Good. See you tomorrow for film study. WES Yeah. INT. LOCKER ROOM - MOMENTS LATER Wes sits at his locker and takes off his jersey and pads. He angrily throws them into the locker. Taylor approaches. TAYLOR What was that? Begging for absolution? WES Nah, nothing. TAYLOR You alright? Are

6. WES Yeah, it's whatever. TAYLOR Whatever you say. (beat) Oh, totally forgot, I got a call from a scout yesterday. Nice. WES What school? Stanford.

TAYLOR Ready for this? Ready? WES Top school, right?

TAYLOR Depends on how much UNC likes me. Wes chuckles. They shake hands and bro-hug.

WES Good job, man. Really. Taylor places his hand on Wes' shoulder. TAYLOR You're not alright. That was the weakest handshake you've ever given me. Tell me what's bothering you. WES I'm fine, trust me. From across the room-DANNY Kiss him, you know you wanna! WES Oh fuck off, Danny! Watching you tackle tonight, I'd say you're the one that wants to. DANNY Game-ending tackle! gay boy! Hold my dick,

TAYLOR Yeah, he's so gay, he ran in thirteen touchdowns this season. Makes sense. Danny cackles and leaves.

7. TAYLOR (CONT'D) Dude, really, if you're not alright, don't say you are. WES Taylor, believe me, I'm fine. you for your concern. Thank

TAYLOR Then you're fine. Alright. Party's at my place tonight. Bunch of kids from Eastern are going. See you there? WES Sure. TAYLOR State championship, man! WES Yeah. Taylor leaves. CUT TO: INT. HOUSE PARTY - NIGHT Taylor makes his way through the crowd. the room. Danny, surrounded by girls, stops him. DANNY Ladies, say hello to tonight's host and MVP. TAYLOR Hey, hi, how's it going. Danny, have you seen Wes around? DANNY Think I saw him...uh...yeah, he went into one of the bedrooms. He leans in close to Taylor. DANNY (CONT'D) Man, take your pick. They're all ready to go. TAYLOR Uh...right now, can't do it, but I'll definitely think about it. He cranes to search Look alive!

8. DANNY Alright, yeah, think about it! State championship! Yeah!

He pulls the girls back into the party and Taylor slips through the crowd. CUT TO: INT. BEDROOM - LATER Wes lies on the floor at the foot of the bed with a bottle of rum. The TV plays Remember The Titans. Taylor opens the door and turns on the lights--Wes shields his eyes. WES Hey, man! Come on in! Remember The Titans. Good movie. I'm watching

TAYLOR That all you're doing?

Wes takes a swig of the rum. TAYLOR (CONT'D) Wonder what the scouts would say about this. WES The scouts can suck my dick. homo. No

TAYLOR No, they can't. You can't afford to be pissing off scouts at this point. WES I apparently can't afford to do anything. Like read a defense. That's dangerous territory, Taylor. Who knows what kind of plays I could make? TAYLOR What? WES Coach took away my audibles. No more calling plays. I'm not enough of a team player. (MORE)

9. WES (CONT'D) I'm also ugly and I can't dance, and I'm gay and I got a tiny dick. TAYLOR Jesus Christ, is that what all this moping is about? Coach asked you to stop messing with the calls? WES Told me scouts don't like seeing me take off running or calling my own plays. Makes me look uncoachable. TAYLOR So? You can still pass from the pocket-Wes glares at him. TAYLOR (CONT'D) Don't gimme that look, you're a top prospect for a reason. The door opens and Danny comes partying in with more girls behind him. DANNY Oh, sorry, I had no idea y'all were busy banging in here. TAYLOR Any chance you could come back in like ten minutes? WES No, we were just leaving anyway. Who wants a drink? Wes stands up. DANNY They're from Eastern. They've been aching to drink with the QB all night. Everyone but Taylor heads for the door. WES Well, I'll see what I can do. They leave. Taylor shrugs and rolls his eyes.

10. TAYLOR Yeah, alright, fine, I guess we'll just talk later. He turns off the TV and leaves. CUT TO: INT. HOUSE PARTY - NIGHT Wes and Danny set up a game of beer pong. Wes stops him. Taylor walks by--

WES Hey, Taylor! Taylor! Taylor, come on, come play a round! Taylor looks around, a bit antsy. TAYLOR Uh...yeah, sure, I can play one round. Taylor steps up to the table. earlier--KATEY--joins him. KATEY (to Taylor) Hey! I'm Katey! TAYLOR I'm-KATEY Taylor Highsmith! TAYLOR Yeah, I was about to say that. KATEY I saw you play earlier tonight, you were really good! TAYLOR Thanks, I try. He glances toward ERIC, in the crowd surrounding the table. Eric signals with his head, "let's go." TAYLOR (CONT'D) Hey, what time is it? WES Midnight. One of Danny's girls from

11. TAYLOR Shit. My dad's coming home soon, we gotta wrap it up. Everybody out. Oh, damn. WES Alright--

Wes turns to the crowd and waves his arms. WES (CONT'D) Alright, clear out, we gotta go, party's over! Move it out! Let's go! The crowd dissipates. CUT TO: The room has emptied. Wes cleans up some of the debris from the party with a bulky trash bag in hand. Wes grabs a cup of beer from the table, sniffs it, and takes a gulp. From upstairs--a glass SHATTERS--shouting: Jesus! TAYLOR (O.S.) What is your problem!?

Wes drops the trash bag and looks up at the ceiling, confused. VOICE (O.S.) You goddamn know what my problem is, Taylor! You know exactly what it is! Don't sit there and pretend like we haven't talked about this! The voice is distinctively male. Silence. TAYLOR (O.S.) You think I'm ashamed of myself. VOICE (O.S.) No. I know for a fact, you're ashamed of who you are. He heads to the stairs and slowly starts up them. TAYLOR (O.S.) That's not true. VOICE (O.S.) It is--

12. It is not! TAYLOR (O.S.) It's not that!

VOICE (O.S.) What, then? What could possibly keep you from coming out? Bobby had no problems coming out for me-TAYLOR (O.S.) I don't give a shit about Bobby! Stop talking about Bobby! Wes freezes in silence. TAYLOR (O.S.) (CONT'D) It's...the team... Wes runs his hand up his stunned face and through his hair. VOICE (O.S.) This again? TAYLOR (O.S.) They won't...look, you don't understand, okay? VOICE (O.S.) I do. You don't! could! TAYLOR (O.S.) There's no way you ever

VOICE (O.S.) Don't you even fucking try that! you have any idea who my parents are!?

Do

TAYLOR (O.S.) It's not the same. Those guys...they look up to me, if...they can never know. VOICE (O.S.) So you're just gonna live your life like this? Lying to everyone? TAYLOR (O.S.) I have no choice. VOICE (O.S.) Then...neither do I. TAYLOR (O.S.) What...?

13. Wes reaches the top of the stairs. INT. HALLWAY - CONTINUOUS Light emanates from around the corner in the otherwise darkened hallway. Wes moves forward to round the corner--he hesitates. TAYLOR (O.S.) Please don't... VOICE (O.S.) I'm so sorry, Taylor. TAYLOR (O.S.) (crying) Don't...don't you love me? VOICE (O.S.) (crying) No. I'm sorry. I can't. Hurried footsteps turn into a person--Eric. As he rounds the corner, he slams into Wes and falls backward into the wall. Both look at each other like they've just seen a ghost. Eric stammers. Taylor hurries out of his room. Silence. All three stare back and forth between each other. Eric gets up and runs out. CUT TO: Taylor sits against the wall, hands over his face. quietly. WES How long has this been going on? TAYLOR Long...I don't know. WES Before the season started? Taylor nods. WES (CONT'D) Before last season started? Taylor nods. Wes runs his hands through his hair. Wes stands

14. WES (CONT'D) So you're... Wes exhales heavily. WES (CONT'D) You're a fag. TAYLOR Don't fucking say that word. WES I can't believe you didn't--why didn't you tell me earlier? TAYLOR Maybe because I knew you'd do something like this. Like what? Taylor chuckles. Yeah. TAYLOR Exactly. WES Tell you it's disgusting?

WES Who is that guy, Eric? He your boyfriend or some shit? TAYLOR Leave him out of this. WES Y'all break up? walked in on? Taylor bawls. That what I just

Wes' expression drops.

WES (CONT'D) Oh, Jesus, I'm--I'm sorry. Look, man, I...I know how bad a breakup-You do not! TAYLOR You know nothing, Wes.

WES Alright. Fine. But look, you just...you can't be doing shit like this. TAYLOR What is wrong with you? (MORE)

15. TAYLOR (CONT'D) What kind of cancer is growing in your brain? I am not doing shit like this! I am who I am! And I have to hide it because of you and every other fucking bigot in that locker room, on that field, who would beat my face in if they found out. Those people--my friends, my teammates, who toss around a slur for who I am, as a fucking insult. I go to practice every day and work my ass off for a team, a school, a whole goddamn town that would curse me and ostracize me if they ever knew who I really was. You have no idea what I'm dealing with. WES Taylor... TAYLOR Don't you dare say I can't be doing shit like this. Silence. WES When did you...I mean...when-TAYLOR After me and Kelly broke up. knew. Wes laughs. WES And you said she was crazy. TAYLOR I'm not crazy! WES I didn't-TAYLOR Wes, you're the first person I've come out to. Either you're supportive, or you're not my friend. WES Taylor, that's not fair-She

16. TAYLOR What's not fair is what I have to go through. You know of any gay college ball players? Any gay NFL stars? WES No-TAYLOR Not one. You have no idea how painful it is, hiding like this, for at least the next ten years of my life. WES Oh my god. (beat) Taylor, I'm... TAYLOR Yeah. Wes slumps down to the floor, against the wall. TAYLOR (CONT'D) How you feeling? WES Honestly? TAYLOR No, dishonestly. WES I'm kinda shocked you even care. TAYLOR Jesus Christ, Wes, how long have I been taking handoffs from you? WES I've said--that word. More times than I can even count. I've--shit, I've called you gay. TAYLOR You get used to it. WES No. You shouldn't have to. That's...that's terrible. (beat) I need to fix this.

17. TAYLOR Look, Wes, I appreciate that, but it's not something you can just fix. These guys are raised to think this way. WES I swear, I will do whatever I can. TAYLOR Thanks. But you have to promise me, Wes--nobody can know about this. Yeah. WES I promise. TAYLOR Thank you. They both exhale heavy, relieved sighs. WES Shit, I thought I had it tough with coach on my ass. TAYLOR Quit your whining. I've seen your pocket presence develop over the past seven years. You're a damn fine quarterback. WES You're just saying that. TAYLOR Maybe I am. Maybe you're the top ranked QB in the state on the top ranked offense in the state totally by chance. Then again, maybe you're a fucking idiot. WES It's just...what else can I do? Go to school, get some worthless degree and listen to my family call me a failure for the next twenty years? (beat) I thought for sure I was locking down my future. Turns out I have none, just because I had the audacity to do things my way for once. Silence.

18. TAYLOR There's only one thing left to do. WES What's that? TAYLOR Work our asses off and tear through that defense like tissue. Wes chuckles and shakes his head. Taylor stands up.

TAYLOR (CONT'D) Promise me you'll get some sleep and stop worrying about all this nonsense. Wes nods. TAYLOR (CONT'D) Good. Taylor turns to step into the bedroom. WES Taylor. TAYLOR Hm? WES Congrats on Stanford. TAYLOR I'll see you there on move-in day. Taylor closes the door. Through the window at the end of the hall--the sun begins to rise. CUT TO: INT. FILM ROOM - MORNING MOS: Wes hunches forward in the cramped room. Flynn and the quarterbacks coach stand in front of a projector screen with game film on it and lecture to a distant Wes. Flynn claps his hands-Colvin! FLYNN Wake up!

Wes snaps out of his daze, sniffles and sits up.

19. WES Go ahead. FLYNN Do we need to have a talk again? WES No, sorry, I'm just tired. FLYNN Whatever is happening outside this room, deal with it later. This is what's important right now. WES Right. FLYNN Now, a player to keep your eye on; Lawrence Hargrove, number ninetyeight. Top five linebacker in the nation. WES Goody. FLYNN Lines up as a down lineman bullrush type about sixty-five percent of snaps played. Fifteen sacks on the season. WES Holy--what!? FLYNN But watch here--the second you discount him in coverage, he'll snag what was supposed to be a high percentage pass right out of the air and turn it into one of your worst days. WES Any way to stop this second coming? FLYNN Don't be joking about that. WES Yes, sir.

20. FLYNN He's prone to biting on the hard count. Play around with your cadences, don't let him get comfy. Wes nods. The sound fades out as Flynn continues. CUT TO: INT. LOCKER ROOM - NIGHT The team sits quietly. Most are antsy and fidgeting about. Wes stares blankly at the wall at a poster--printed on it is a generic football design with large blocked letters spelling "PLAY LIKE A MAN, WIN LIKE A TEAM." Flynn enters. FLYNN Gimme a little noise from your feet. The team gently rattles their cleats against the concrete floor. FLYNN (CONT'D) This is the sound I want the other guys to hear. This is the rumbling I want them to feel when they see us play out there. This is what I want every team who will be playing us in the weeks to come to feel. When they eat their suppers, when they sleep at night, and when they watch us conquer! The team roars back in support--the rattling gets louder. FLYNN (CONT'D) And this, men, this is what I want them to know! All sounds fade out into tinnitus. Wes' gaze drifts toward Taylor, too engrossed the pregame routine to notice. Wes looks down at his hands--his fingertips are chewed up and a small cut on his right hand oozes a bit of blood. Wes gets up and starts for the tunnel--the rest of the team jumps up and converges around Flynn and puts their hands up in the center.

21. INT. TUNNEL, STADIUM - MOMENTS LATER Wes walks through the empty tunnel toward the field. Taylor chases after him. Hey! TAYLOR Where do you think you're going?

WES I don't know. (beat) Taylor, I have no idea. Not a fucking clue. I'm just gonna go out and play like the neutered dog they want me to be so I have a shot at becoming a backup on some D-two team. TAYLOR That's not how it has to end up-WES That's exactly how it has to end up. And, ironically enough, I don't expect you to understand. From the locker room--the YELLS of the team and CLACKING cleats. Wes shrugs. WES (CONT'D) Game face, man. The team stampedes toward them--they put on their helmets and head up the pack beside Flynn. EXT. STADIUM - NIGHT The team exits the tunnel and jogs onto the turf, met with cheers from the crowd. Taylor and Wes make their way to the sideline. into the stands, dumbfounded. TAYLOR He's here. WES What? Wes follows his eyeline--Eric stands at the front of the crowd. He shyly waves. Taylor looks

22. Holy shit. him? What? WES (CONT'D) You gonna go talk to

TAYLOR Shut up, no.

WES Dude, you should talk to him! TAYLOR We have to warm up. They both start for the field. WES At least talk to him after the game. TAYLOR Maybe. CUT TO: At midfield--Wes, Taylor, and Danny stand opposite the opposing CAPTAINS. The REFEREE flips the coin onto the field. REFEREE It is tails, the call goes to the home team. WES Receive. The opposing captains point to the south endzone and move in to shake hands. The bulkiest captain--#98, HARGROVE--yanks Wes in on the handshake. HARGROVE Heard your boyfriend there likes fucking boys. (beat) Tonight, I'm gonna fuck him real good. He shoves Wes back by the facemask and jogs back to the sideline. Wes stares after him, dumbfounded. He snaps out of it and heads back to the team. Taylor jogs next to him. TAYLOR Shit-talking already? Come on.

23. Taylor chuckles and pats Wes on the back. CUT TO: The Braves offense is lined up at their own 25 yard line. Wes, under center, stands up and scans the field--the strong safety cheats over to the outside. Set! WES Set hut!

Wes stomps his foot out to the side--Ronny moves in motion. The corner backs off a bit. WES (CONT'D) Hike! He takes the snap, fakes the handoff to Taylor--Taylor picks up a block and shoves the defender back. Wes' eyes dart around the field and he quickly locks onto the receiver. The receiver cuts in on a post route--Wes winds up and launches a pass toward the receiver. The strong safety quickly closes on the route, leaps, and goes for the ball-It bounces off the safety's hands and into the air. WES (CONT'D) Shit! The receiver dives for the ball and comes down with it--the crowd erupts. Wes jumps in celebration and rejoins the team down the field. CUT TO: Wes takes a knee in the huddle. WES (CONT'D) Key, dog--nine eighty one left, on two, on two. Ready, break. The huddle breaks and the offense lines up on the opposing 30. The defense crowds the line. Wes stands up in the pistol formation, Taylor behind him. WES (CONT'D) Ready...hut! Hargrove, in a three point stance, jumps a bit, growls at the fake.

24. WES (CONT'D) Check, check! Ninety eight! Wes looks at his wristband. WES (CONT'D) Zebra twenty one coach pass! twenty one! Coach pass! Zebra,

The tight end motions to the other side of the line, across from Hargrove--Hargrove backs off a bit. WES (CONT'D) Set--hut! Wes grabs the snap from the air and sprints out to the weak side with Taylor close behind. Hargrove throws the tight end to the ground and thunders toward Wes and Taylor. The tackle shoves him back--he breaks off and continues pursuit. Wes tucks the ball, breaks the corner's tackle, and cuts out toward the sideline. He glances over--Hargrove sprints toward him. Wes motors down, makes a move to cut inside, and flips the ball to Taylor. Hargrove isn't fooled--he wraps up on Taylor. Taylor fights for a few yards. A defensive lineman joins the tackle and Hargrove flings Taylor to the ground. Hargrove holds him down as another linebacker piles on. rest of each team joins the fray. WES (CONT'D) Hey! Wes runs toward the dogpile--a REFEREE blocks him and pulls players off the pile. The players get up and slowly disperse. the huddle beside Wes. Taylor jogs back to The

WES (CONT'D) Sorry, I thought he'd bite on it. TAYLOR Don't worry about it, man. tough one. He slaps Wes on the helmet. CUT TO: He's a

25. The Braves offense lines up at the opposing 40 yard line. Wes lines up under center in the I-formation. WES Set-hut! Hargrove, lined up on the left side, flinches. WES (CONT'D) Hike! Wes takes the snap and hands off to Taylor left--Taylor stops short and cuts back to the right side. The right tackle shoves his defender back, breaks off, and runs out lead blocking for Taylor. The crowd CHEERS. Taylor sprints his way down to the 10 yard line, battling and is forced out of bounds. CUT TO: The Braves offense lines up at the goal line with two split receivers. Wes is under center. WES (CONT'D) Hike! Wes stands up and scans the field. between the two receivers. WES (CONT'D) Set hike! Wes takes the snap and drops back. flat--Hargrove locks him down. Taylor runs out into the He looks back and forth

The pressure quickly collapses the pocket--Wes drops to the turf and two defenders jump on him. CUT TO: The Braves offense lines up at the goal line. center with Taylor alone in the backfield. Wes stares down at the center's back. WES (CONT'D) Hut, hike! Wes takes the snap, drops back, and hands the ball to Taylor on the draw. Taylor dives into the endzone as Wes unsnaps his helmet and walks lazily toward the sideline. The whistles Wes is under

26. BLOW and the crowd CHEERS. up--touchdown. Wes halfheartedly puts his hands CUT TO: Wes sits on the sideline and gazes down at a binder full of field stills. Flynn and another COACH surround him. WES (CONT'D) Yeah, there's only so much I can do when you're running on every first down. FLYNN Don't start this shit now, Colvin! Not now! You're staring down your receivers and they can see it! WES Then gimme a max protect so I actually have time to go through a progression! FLYNN (beat) I don't wanna see you take off running. WES What if the pocket collapses? FLYNN I don't wanna see you take off running before reading the progression. If nobody is open, honest to god, run all you want. WES Loud and clear. passes? No. Flynn takes the binder and walks away with the other coach. WES Well, that's...goddamn it. Taylor approaches and sits next to Wes. WES (CONT'D) How am I doing? Can I get more called

FLYNN

27. TAYLOR Six for nine, by my count. couple of lame ducks. WES Handoffs good? TAYLOR You're hesitating. a few. WES Yeah. TAYLOR Look, you'll get your moment. take it easy. Just I almost dropped Only a

WES I know, it's just...Hargrove, he-The crowd CHEERS. Wes and Taylor snap their attention to the game--the opposing runningback celebrates in the endzone. Wes and Taylor drop their heads and sigh. WES (CONT'D) Shit. The scoreboard ticks to 21-7 at the two minute warning. CUT TO: Montage: Wes gets sacked three times for a quick three and out. Hargrove records two of them. CUT TO: EXT. TURF - DREAMSCAPE The stadium has disappeared--the turf extends into infinite nothingness. All the players, refs, and coaches are gone. Wes, wearing no pads, falls backward onto the turf. He groans in pain and lies still. He pulls his helmet off and throws it to the side, frustrated. He sits up. He is surrounded by people staring at him-players on his team, players on the opposing team, coaches, scouts, et cetera. Wes looks around at the crowd, the order of people constantly changing to keep Flynn, Taylor, Hargrove, and three scouts at the front of the crowd.

28. He stands up--the people are gone. DAD stands beside an empty crib holding a football. Wes walks closer. Dad passes him the ball. Wes catches and tucks. He throws it back--the form is ugly and the ball sails way off target. Three scouts appear next to him, clipboards in hand. SCOUT'S POV: Wes drops back and passes in full gear. scout writes on the clipboard "NOT GOOD ENOUGH." The

Another football appears in Dad's hand and he throws it over Wes' head. Wes whips around to see the ball lie on the turf. Taylor approaches and picks it up. Wes walks toward him--Hargrove pushes him aside and walks toward Taylor with a sledgehammer over his shoulder. WES Hey. Hey! He runs forward to stop Hargrove--a bunch of hands grab at his arm and jersey and tug him back. Get off me! WES (CONT'D) Hey! Taylor!

Taylor looks down at the ball as Hargrove winds up for a swing with the sledgehammer. WES (CONT'D) No! Taylor! Wes, struggling against the arms pulling him back, turns around--Flynn stands there, alone. Wes falls down. The entire Braves team appears behind Flynn. Wes looks back to Taylor and Hargrove--they're gone. He jumps to his feet, now in full pads. The field is empty. He looks down--a sea of footballs surrounds his feet. Something comes from offscreen and whacks his helmet. falls over and lands on his back. He CUT TO: EXT. STADIUM - NIGHT Wes lies on the field. up. Taylor extends his arm and helps him

Hargrove walks by and shoves past Taylor.

29. HARGROVE Do something, faggot. Wes starts after him--Taylor pulls him back. It's fine. TAYLOR Don't cause a scene.

They follow the rest of the offense back to the sideline as the field goal unit takes the field. CUT TO: Wes sits alone on the sideline. stands and observes the game. He stares at Taylor, who

He gets up and walks toward Flynn. WES Coach, you got a second? FLYNN You alright, Colvin? WES Yeah, just...I think you should consider easing off the run. FLYNN And why's that? WES Come on, thirty-one twenty-four two minute drill? Taylor's gonna get worn down by the time we actually need him to kill the clock. I can get us there. Please. FLYNN Alright. After the two minute warning, start calling your drive. Wes claps and fist pumps. FLYNN (CONT'D) Don't disappoint me. WES I don't even know what that word means. Wes jogs excitedly to his seat on the bench and grabs his helmet.

30. Flynn glances after Wes. He turns his gaze to the stands. CUT TO: Wes stands on the field and stares at the scoreboard--31-24, 1:54 in the fourth quarter, no timeouts remaining for either team. Taylor walks up beside Wes. TAYLOR Ready? WES Let's do this. CUT TO: The braves offense lines up at the 20 yard line. under center. Ready! WES (CONT'D) Set-hut! Hargrove backs away from Wes is

Wes stands up and scans the field. the line a bit. Wes smiles. WES (CONT'D) Hike!

Wes takes the snap and drops back. Hargrove sprints in on the delayed blitz, untouched by a blocker. Wes pump fakes-Hargrove jumps. Wes zigs by him, tucks the ball, and runs off-tackle. The tight end gets off his block and runs out ahead, lead blocking. Taylor follows Wes with Hargrove close behind. The tight end collides with the cornerback and they both go down. Wes hurdles the pileup--as he lands, the free safety wraps him up and takes him down. He hops to his feet, tosses the ball to the line judge, and runs back to the center of the field. WES (CONT'D) To the line, to the line! The offense lines up in the no-huddle. Wes scans the field from under center--he quickly backs up into the shotgun with Taylor on his left. WES (CONT'D) Set-hut!

31. Wes catches the snap and stuffs the ball into Taylor's gut-Taylor runs right on the stretch, dodges Hargrove's tackle, and bounces the run outside. Wes runs after him--the entire team follows. Taylor is tackled just short of the first down marker. The line judge spots the ball and the team lines up again, no huddle. WES (CONT'D) Ready... He scans the field from the shotgun. WES (CONT'D) Check, check! Dog, right seven! Dog, right seven! The players change formation and crowd the line. WES (CONT'D) Hike! Wes takes the snap and pitches it to Taylor. Hargrove gets into the backfield quickly and drags him down for a loss. Taylor throws the ball to the ref. WES (CONT'D) Alright, huddle up! Huddle up, everyone! The offense huddles around him. WES (CONT'D) Listen up, new play. Stack the strong side. George, I want you in the slot. Come up in front of Ronny for the bubble screen. Line, I want y'all crashing the middle. GEORGE Bubble screen? That ain't in the playbook. WES Fuck the playbook. break! On three, ready--

The Braves offense lines up at their own 40 yard line. Wes takes the snap--he quickly jumps up and fakes a quick throw to the split receiver. He tucks the ball, runs at the line, launches himself over the center, and extends the ball.

32. The whistles BLOW and the ref signals first down. Wes frantically points forward--the offense quickly lines up again. Wes scans the field from under center. The safeties creep closer, Hargrove lines up as a down lineman, the defensive line is spread wide, and the linebackers crowd the line. WES (CONT'D) Check, check! Hawk, nine one nine key! Wes glances at the clock--it ticks down to the last minute. WES (CONT'D) Set hike! Hargrove jumps offsides. Wes stands up and motions for a flag--the refs throw flags and blow whistles. Hargrove throws a fit. He gives a thumbs up. Wes laughs and looks to the sideline.

REFEREE Offsides, defense number ninety-eight. Five yard penalty, still first down. The Braves offense huddles up at midfield. WES Streaks. Everyone. George, hitch and go at ten yards. Taylor, stay in on the block. Ninety-eight is not kidding around. On three, ready-break. The offense lines up. WES (CONT'D) Ready! Wes stands up and scans the field from under center. WES (CONT'D) Set! He readies up. WES (CONT'D) Hike! He takes the snap and drops five steps. Taylor steps up and joins the offensive tackle in a double team on Hargrove.

33. Wes' eyes dart around the field. with the cornerback behind him. His gaze locks onto Ronny

The free safety turns and runs toward Ronny--he stumbles. Wes winds up and hurls the ball--it comes down directly on target. Ronny snatches the ball out of the air, pulls it in, and falls down at the two yard line. The cornerback collapses on top of him. The crowd explodes in cheers. The Braves sideline celebrates.

Every player runs to the goal line. WES (CONT'D) To the line, to the line! fucking go! The offense lines up. WES (CONT'D) Hike! Wes takes the snap from under center and spikes the ball. He quickly looks up at the clock--two seconds left. The play clock resets to 40 and begins to tick. FLYNN (O.S. FILTERED) Rhino six left. Rhino, six left. WES What!? Wes runs to the sideline. WES (CONT'D) You wanna call a run!? Now!? I got the hot hand, lemme finish it! FLYNN You've done a great job. I'm proud of you. But right now, this is what I'm calling, and it's gonna happen. Get out there and run the play. WES But-FLYNN Not another word, Wes! WES Damn it! Go, go,

34. Wes throws a fit as he runs back to the huddle. CUT TO: The Braves offense lines up at the 2 yard line with the line stacked. The defense is equally stacked on the line. WES (CONT'D) Ready. Wes stares down at the center's back. Hargrove roams the secondary, occasionally jumping at the line. Hargrove stands up and points at Taylor. HARGROVE Don't even try it, faggot! murder you! I'm gonna

Some offensive linemen look around, confused. Taylor stands stalwart. Wes stands up and scans the field. He glances up at the play clock--10 seconds left. He looks to the sideline. WES Check, check! CENTER What are you doing, man!? WES Shut up! Red, white eighty seven! Red, white eighty seven! The receivers look toward Wes--he points at them and motions for them to move to the slot. They run to the slot and position themselves. Wes backs up to line up in the shotgun, Taylor on his left. TAYLOR What are you doing? Ready! Set! WES Set-hut!

The play clock ticks to one. WES (CONT'D) Hike! The center snaps the ball--it soars over Wes' head. He dives backward and scrambles to pick up the ball. Taylor sets up to pick up a block. Wes grabs the ball, stands up, and scans the field--the pocket is gone. Defenders close in fast.

35. Wes jukes by one tackler, spins off another. He sidesteps away from the line--Taylor follows him and Hargrove mirrors Taylor. Wes ducks under another tackler and pump fakes to the receiver. The defenders don't bite on the fake and continue pursuit. Wes scrambles backward and shovels the ball to Taylor. WES (CONT'D) Taylor! Taylor barely catches the ball as Wes falls on his ass. He cuts back and runs parallel to the line in the backfield. The offensive line shifts to block for him. He shoves a defensive lineman off with a stiff arm and runs for the corner. Go! WES (CONT'D) Yeah, go! Go, go, go!

Hargrove catches up to Taylor as Taylor stutter-steps. He throws a hit, helmet first--Taylor's helmet pops off and he looks dazed. The safety sprints toward Taylor and lays a hit, helmet first-Taylor's body goes limp and he falls to the turf short of the goal line. The ref signals "no good" and blows the whistle. team runs out onto the field to celebrate. The opposing

The sound fades out. Wes gets up and runs toward Taylor-his face is swollen up and bloodied. Wes kneels beside him. TAYLOR (V.O.) You knew he was coming after me, didn't you? WES (V.O.) Yeah. TAYLOR (V.O.) Why didn't you say something? WES (V.O.) You told me not to tell anyone. If you knew, it would've thrown you off your game. TAYLOR (V.O.) (chuckle) There's more to life than just football, Wes.

36. WES (V.O.) I'm so sorry. I tried. I know. TAYLOR (V.O.) I forgive you. CUT TO: INT. HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT A darkened hospital room. The heart monitor BEEPS on rhythm and the respirator quietly HISSES air. The TV drones on a 24-hour news station. Taylor lies unconscious and intubated on the bed with a large neck brace. His face has some dried blood and large bruises on it. Wes stands at the side of the bed with a football helmet in his arms. He places the helmet on the bedside table, rubs his eye, and leaves. From the television-NEWSCASTER ...and we'll see how the bill is received. If this new legislation passes, Pennsylvania will become the tenth state in the country to legalize same-sex marriage. According to our latest polls, over two thirds of the state supports the bill and believes gay couples should have the right to marry. You can vote on this poll by going to our website... CUT TO BLACK.