Damaged Petals.
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Captain Canada
- Posts: 8013
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
Damaged Petals.
Talking big shit and then getting your mouth spat in like that is crazy, brudda.
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djp73
- Posts: 13272
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 13:42
Damaged Petals.
Therapists some lame asses
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Soapy
Topic author - Posts: 16918
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 18:42
Damaged Petals.
Progress is not linear, my brother, but we believe in Connie and her journey #TeamConnieredsox907 wrote: ↑02 Dec 2025, 11:30Connie gonna fold the first time Brice slides in her DMs again
Our dude didn't even throw a touchdown against the team that spurned him?
Brice building up this bigger than life ego to make up for the fact he feels alone and abandoned huh. Gotta say, Freeman won that exchange
Freeman won the battle but not the war. Spot the ball in South Bend next season, fn
that's one way to look at a true freshman, sacked seven times, almost beating ranked Notre Dame in his 3rd career start with a terrible teamCaptain Canada wrote: ↑02 Dec 2025, 15:59Talking big shit and then getting your mouth spat in like that is crazy, brudda.
too woke for you?
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Soapy
Topic author - Posts: 16918
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 18:42
Damaged Petals.
Season 4, Episode 6
"Let’s put in that work, boys," Brice clapped his hands together as he took a swig from his Gatorade bottle, nodding in approval as Artie finished his set of straight-legged deadlifts.
There had been a quiet serenity to the morning’s workout, the aches and bruises from last Saturday’s game beginning to fade along with the emotional letdown—replaced by an optimism that they’d get a shot at another previously ranked opponent this weekend.
The Wake Forest game felt like ages ago, and despite the result and the pedestrian stat line against the Irish, Brice carried a quiet confidence afterward—one he knew wouldn’t stay quiet for long, especially if things broke their way against the Huskies. If nothing else, Brice felt he’d shown his teammates that he wasn’t just the bratty, spoiled, entitled, brash quarterback. He was also tough as shit, peeling himself off the turf after each of the seven sacks and delivering throw after throw under pressure.
Brice worked the room, moving from station to station, shooting the shit with his teammates in between reps.
"I really hawk shit down, my boy," Yates, the junior corner with two interceptions on the season, told him as they dapped up. "It’s a reason you wasn’t throwing my way in camp."
"Get the fuck out of here," Brice shook his head with a smile. "Nitro was bombing your ass every other play, bro!"
"Must be talking about nitroglycerin or some shit," the confident corner scoffed. "Ain’t nobody bombing my ass. Pause."
"That was crazy," Brice and the group laughed. Greg, one of the strength coaches, shot them a look but let it slide, turning back to a group of linemen doing mobility work.
"The only time I wasn’t going your way was when this sorry-ass dude was on the field," Brice pointed toward Kendall, who was quietly finishing his set. "That’s an easy completion."
"My boy got your ass a few times," Yates shrugged.
"Got who? Stop it. He couldn’t even get in against Indiana State!"
Even the other defensive backs laughed as Kendall tried to ignore it, grabbing a towel and watching the next group start their circuit. He didn’t say anything.
"This ain’t a fucking clubhouse," Greg finally warned Brice.
"My bad, Coach." Brice let the laugh trail off and returned to his station, where Walter and Abdul had just finished. "Twelve of these, right?"
"Fifteen for you, since you’ve got so much energy this morning," Greg said before wandering off.
"Fucking bitch," Brice muttered under his breath as he grabbed a pair of forty-fives and began lunges, straining as he reached depth.
"What’s the point of that?" Walter asked between breaths.
"What?"
"Fucking with Kendall," Walter said. "Why? That shit’s over and done with."
"I’m just fucking with him," Brice shrugged.
"Yeah, but that’s one thing when y’all competing," Walter sucked his teeth. "Now you just fucking with him for no reason. You don’t think he knows he ain’t played this season yet?"
"What is this? You redshirts ganging up on me?" Brice chuckled as he racked the dumbbells.
"I got in against State," Abdul joked. "You ain’t talking about me."
"It ain’t about that," Walter said, disappointment creeping in. "You wanted to be captain, right?"
"That shit just a patch," Brice muttered, hiding behind bravado.
"But you’re the leader of the team, right?"
"I’m the quarterback," Brice said matter-of-factly.
Walter sighed. "Why didn’t you get mad at your offensive line last week? You was running for your life."
"I don’t know," Brice shrugged, annoyance rising. "What are you, my fucking therapist?"
"You didn’t bitch them out, you didn’t get on them. No, you said it was your fault for holding on to the ball. And you kept going to them after every drive, dapping them up, telling them to keep playing, to keep fighting."
"Bro, what the fuck are you talking about?" Brice scoffed. "I was just busting his balls. It ain’t that deep."
"You can’t pick and choose when you want to be a leader," Walter said bluntly. "It ain’t a part-time job, nigga. If you’re gonna be a leader, like you was with George or the O-line, you gotta do that shit with everyone. Kendall don’t need to hear that shit right now. What if Yates or Trav go down? Guess who might be on the field on third down when we need the ball back? Him. You think he needs to be thinking about how his own quarterback—the leader—don’t believe in him?"
Brice shook his head quickly, trying not to let the words sink in. "Yeah, whatever. Not my fault he’s sorry as fuck."
But they did sink in.
…
"Just try to speak into the mic."
Jimmy nodded as he tugged at his shoulder pads, helmet resting on top of his head.
The field lights buzzed overhead, the metal bleachers still rattling as the last few parents and students drifted toward the parking lot. Jimmy stood just off the painted numbers, the grass torn up under his cleats, breathing finally settling after the win. A young reporter with a 247Sports mic flag adjusted his phone and lifted it toward him.
Off to the side, Tom stood with his hands in his pockets, face flat, giving nothing away except the quiet expectation in his posture. Stand up straight. Speak clearly. Don’t rush.
Liz stood a step ahead of him, arms crossed tightly, eyes darting between the reporter and Jimmy’s mouth, trying to catch every word. Sophie, wearing one of his jerseys, bounced slightly on her toes, smiling like she couldn’t hold it back if she tried.
"Big night for you," the reporter began. "Couple tackles, pass breakup, touchdown on offense. One of the early standouts so far this season. How’s it feel?"
Jimmy blinked at the phone, then at the reporter. His tongue felt thick.
"Uh… it feels good," he said, forcing himself to slow down just like his dad told him. "I just… I just wanna help the team win. Coach asked me to do a little bit of everything this year, so… yeah. Just trying to do my job."
Tom gave the slightest nod. Good.
The reporter smiled. "College coaches love that versatility. Speaking of—which schools are standing out for you early on?"
Jimmy’s breath caught. He glanced off-camera, not at his dad, but at Liz—who stiffened; at Sophie—who looked like she already knew the answer; then finally at the grass.
A long pause.
"Um…" He scratched at the tape on his wrist. "I mean… I’m keeping everything open right now, but…"
He swallowed.
"Notre Dame’s definitely my top school."
Liz drew in a quiet breath. Sophie’s smile widened. Tom didn’t move.
The reporter leaned forward. "Notre Dame your leader?"
"Yeah," Jimmy said, this time without hesitation. "For sure. I love the staff there, the campus, all of it. And… whatever they want me to play—offense, defense, special teams—I’ll do it. I’ve been playing more defense this year, and if that’s where they want me, that’s where I’ll go."
He nodded once, almost like he was convincing himself.
The reporter grinned. "Appreciate the time, Jimmy. Big season ahead for you."
Jimmy exhaled as the camera clicked off. Tom finally stepped forward, clapped a hand on his shoulder—not hard, not soft.
"Good job," he said.
For Tom, it might as well have been a hug.
UW (2-3, 0-3) | 7 | 10 | 0 | 3 | 20
PUR (3-1, 1-0) | 0 | 6 | 6 | 15 | 27
UW QB Demond Williams Jr. (Jr): 18-31, 223 Yds
UW HB Adam Mohammed (Jr): 15 Car, 88 Yds, TD, Fumble
UW TE Decker Degraaf (Jr): 9 Rec, 123 Yds
PUR QB Brice Colton (Fr): 31-42, 298 Yds, 3 TD, Sacked 7x
PUR HB Gabriel Joyner (Jr): 13 Car, 41 Yds
PUR WR Nitro Tuggle (Jr): 7 Rec, 71 Yds, TD
Season Stats 109-150, 1147 Yds, 9 TD, 3 INT, Sacked 20x, 39 Car, 90 Yds, 2 fumbles (2 lost)
Remaining Schedule vs. Maryland, vs. Wisconsin, at UCLA, at Iowa, vs. Minnesota, at #7 Penn State, at Illinois, at #12 Indiana
"Let’s put in that work, boys," Brice clapped his hands together as he took a swig from his Gatorade bottle, nodding in approval as Artie finished his set of straight-legged deadlifts.
There had been a quiet serenity to the morning’s workout, the aches and bruises from last Saturday’s game beginning to fade along with the emotional letdown—replaced by an optimism that they’d get a shot at another previously ranked opponent this weekend.
The Wake Forest game felt like ages ago, and despite the result and the pedestrian stat line against the Irish, Brice carried a quiet confidence afterward—one he knew wouldn’t stay quiet for long, especially if things broke their way against the Huskies. If nothing else, Brice felt he’d shown his teammates that he wasn’t just the bratty, spoiled, entitled, brash quarterback. He was also tough as shit, peeling himself off the turf after each of the seven sacks and delivering throw after throw under pressure.
Brice worked the room, moving from station to station, shooting the shit with his teammates in between reps.
"I really hawk shit down, my boy," Yates, the junior corner with two interceptions on the season, told him as they dapped up. "It’s a reason you wasn’t throwing my way in camp."
"Get the fuck out of here," Brice shook his head with a smile. "Nitro was bombing your ass every other play, bro!"
"Must be talking about nitroglycerin or some shit," the confident corner scoffed. "Ain’t nobody bombing my ass. Pause."
"That was crazy," Brice and the group laughed. Greg, one of the strength coaches, shot them a look but let it slide, turning back to a group of linemen doing mobility work.
"The only time I wasn’t going your way was when this sorry-ass dude was on the field," Brice pointed toward Kendall, who was quietly finishing his set. "That’s an easy completion."
"My boy got your ass a few times," Yates shrugged.
"Got who? Stop it. He couldn’t even get in against Indiana State!"
Even the other defensive backs laughed as Kendall tried to ignore it, grabbing a towel and watching the next group start their circuit. He didn’t say anything.
"This ain’t a fucking clubhouse," Greg finally warned Brice.
"My bad, Coach." Brice let the laugh trail off and returned to his station, where Walter and Abdul had just finished. "Twelve of these, right?"
"Fifteen for you, since you’ve got so much energy this morning," Greg said before wandering off.
"Fucking bitch," Brice muttered under his breath as he grabbed a pair of forty-fives and began lunges, straining as he reached depth.
"What’s the point of that?" Walter asked between breaths.
"What?"
"Fucking with Kendall," Walter said. "Why? That shit’s over and done with."
"I’m just fucking with him," Brice shrugged.
"Yeah, but that’s one thing when y’all competing," Walter sucked his teeth. "Now you just fucking with him for no reason. You don’t think he knows he ain’t played this season yet?"
"What is this? You redshirts ganging up on me?" Brice chuckled as he racked the dumbbells.
"I got in against State," Abdul joked. "You ain’t talking about me."
"It ain’t about that," Walter said, disappointment creeping in. "You wanted to be captain, right?"
"That shit just a patch," Brice muttered, hiding behind bravado.
"But you’re the leader of the team, right?"
"I’m the quarterback," Brice said matter-of-factly.
Walter sighed. "Why didn’t you get mad at your offensive line last week? You was running for your life."
"I don’t know," Brice shrugged, annoyance rising. "What are you, my fucking therapist?"
"You didn’t bitch them out, you didn’t get on them. No, you said it was your fault for holding on to the ball. And you kept going to them after every drive, dapping them up, telling them to keep playing, to keep fighting."
"Bro, what the fuck are you talking about?" Brice scoffed. "I was just busting his balls. It ain’t that deep."
"You can’t pick and choose when you want to be a leader," Walter said bluntly. "It ain’t a part-time job, nigga. If you’re gonna be a leader, like you was with George or the O-line, you gotta do that shit with everyone. Kendall don’t need to hear that shit right now. What if Yates or Trav go down? Guess who might be on the field on third down when we need the ball back? Him. You think he needs to be thinking about how his own quarterback—the leader—don’t believe in him?"
Brice shook his head quickly, trying not to let the words sink in. "Yeah, whatever. Not my fault he’s sorry as fuck."
But they did sink in.
…
"Just try to speak into the mic."
Jimmy nodded as he tugged at his shoulder pads, helmet resting on top of his head.
The field lights buzzed overhead, the metal bleachers still rattling as the last few parents and students drifted toward the parking lot. Jimmy stood just off the painted numbers, the grass torn up under his cleats, breathing finally settling after the win. A young reporter with a 247Sports mic flag adjusted his phone and lifted it toward him.
Off to the side, Tom stood with his hands in his pockets, face flat, giving nothing away except the quiet expectation in his posture. Stand up straight. Speak clearly. Don’t rush.
Liz stood a step ahead of him, arms crossed tightly, eyes darting between the reporter and Jimmy’s mouth, trying to catch every word. Sophie, wearing one of his jerseys, bounced slightly on her toes, smiling like she couldn’t hold it back if she tried.
"Big night for you," the reporter began. "Couple tackles, pass breakup, touchdown on offense. One of the early standouts so far this season. How’s it feel?"
Jimmy blinked at the phone, then at the reporter. His tongue felt thick.
"Uh… it feels good," he said, forcing himself to slow down just like his dad told him. "I just… I just wanna help the team win. Coach asked me to do a little bit of everything this year, so… yeah. Just trying to do my job."
Tom gave the slightest nod. Good.
The reporter smiled. "College coaches love that versatility. Speaking of—which schools are standing out for you early on?"
Jimmy’s breath caught. He glanced off-camera, not at his dad, but at Liz—who stiffened; at Sophie—who looked like she already knew the answer; then finally at the grass.
A long pause.
"Um…" He scratched at the tape on his wrist. "I mean… I’m keeping everything open right now, but…"
He swallowed.
"Notre Dame’s definitely my top school."
Liz drew in a quiet breath. Sophie’s smile widened. Tom didn’t move.
The reporter leaned forward. "Notre Dame your leader?"
"Yeah," Jimmy said, this time without hesitation. "For sure. I love the staff there, the campus, all of it. And… whatever they want me to play—offense, defense, special teams—I’ll do it. I’ve been playing more defense this year, and if that’s where they want me, that’s where I’ll go."
He nodded once, almost like he was convincing himself.
The reporter grinned. "Appreciate the time, Jimmy. Big season ahead for you."
Jimmy exhaled as the camera clicked off. Tom finally stepped forward, clapped a hand on his shoulder—not hard, not soft.
"Good job," he said.
For Tom, it might as well have been a hug.
UW (2-3, 0-3) | 7 | 10 | 0 | 3 | 20
PUR (3-1, 1-0) | 0 | 6 | 6 | 15 | 27
UW QB Demond Williams Jr. (Jr): 18-31, 223 Yds
UW HB Adam Mohammed (Jr): 15 Car, 88 Yds, TD, Fumble
UW TE Decker Degraaf (Jr): 9 Rec, 123 Yds
PUR QB Brice Colton (Fr): 31-42, 298 Yds, 3 TD, Sacked 7x
PUR HB Gabriel Joyner (Jr): 13 Car, 41 Yds
PUR WR Nitro Tuggle (Jr): 7 Rec, 71 Yds, TD
Season Stats 109-150, 1147 Yds, 9 TD, 3 INT, Sacked 20x, 39 Car, 90 Yds, 2 fumbles (2 lost)
Remaining Schedule vs. Maryland, vs. Wisconsin, at UCLA, at Iowa, vs. Minnesota, at #7 Penn State, at Illinois, at #12 Indiana
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Caesar
- Chise GOAT
- Posts: 17023
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47
Damaged Petals.
Kinda snuck that game in there on the slick. Brice still back there showing below average football IQ. If his first read isn’t open, he holds on to the ball and panics. We need to see his ability to read the defense improve if he wants to make it at the next level. You gotta start questioning the caliber of opponent he faced in high school if he is showing this much difficulty adapting to the college game.
Certainly no Caine Guerra who has only been sacked 7 times in 9 games forget 14 times in just 2 games.
Jimmy’s a gamer, workout warrior, first guy in last guy out type, real glue guy, huh?
Certainly no Caine Guerra who has only been sacked 7 times in 9 games forget 14 times in just 2 games.
Jimmy’s a gamer, workout warrior, first guy in last guy out type, real glue guy, huh?
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Captain Canada
- Posts: 8013
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
Damaged Petals.
Having to dig deep against Washington is ... something worth remembering 
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redsox907
- Posts: 6417
- Joined: 01 Jun 2025, 12:40
Damaged Petals.
I mean, Caine is also playing against the Sun Belt with a team that is considered middle of the pack in the Belt Where as Purdue is essentially a Sun Belt tier team playing in the Big Ten.
Apples and Oranges broski.
That being said - get rid of the fucking ball Brice
Jimmy the villain in this story!? Going to ND to pick off his brother when they go into Purdue and stuff his shit again
Can't pick and choose when to lead, which is something his therapist is trying to get through to him. can't pick and choose when you want to care, when you don't. We'll see how long till its sticks
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Soapy
Topic author - Posts: 16918
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 18:42
Damaged Petals.
The video right there cuz, the OL is assCaesar wrote: ↑03 Dec 2025, 09:09Kinda snuck that game in there on the slick. Brice still back there showing below average football IQ. If his first read isn’t open, he holds on to the ball and panics. We need to see his ability to read the defense improve if he wants to make it at the next level. You gotta start questioning the caliber of opponent he faced in high school if he is showing this much difficulty adapting to the college game.
Certainly no Caine Guerra who has only been sacked 7 times in 9 games forget 14 times in just 2 games.
Jimmy’s a gamer, workout warrior, first guy in last guy out type, real glue guy, huh?
Who do you guys think Purdue is lmao they're literally the worst team in the conference rated in the mid to low 70s across the board. Washington is mid 80s.Captain Canada wrote: ↑03 Dec 2025, 10:12Having to dig deep against Washington is ... something worth remembering
the problem is when the available plays don't have a checkdown or the check down is covered. on the rewatch Brice (me) was at fault for probably two of those but the right guard is fucking ass. gets beat instantly almost every playredsox907 wrote: ↑03 Dec 2025, 11:18I mean, Caine is also playing against the Sun Belt with a team that is considered middle of the pack in the Belt Where as Purdue is essentially a Sun Belt tier team playing in the Big Ten.
Apples and Oranges broski.
That being said - get rid of the fucking ball Brice
Jimmy the villain in this story!? Going to ND to pick off his brother when they go into Purdue and stuff his shit again
Can't pick and choose when to lead, which is something his therapist is trying to get through to him. can't pick and choose when you want to care, when you don't. We'll see how long till its sticks
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Soapy
Topic author - Posts: 16918
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 18:42
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Soapy
Topic author - Posts: 16918
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 18:42