What it would take for Jadeveon Clowney to miss South Carolina's first game

Streeter Lecka

Because it sure as heck won't be an injury.

[Scene: An apartment complex in Columbia, S.C.]


He woke up with a start.

"What was that sound? It's 3:30 in the morning. What the hell is going on?"

Jadeveon Clowney sat up in bed. He inspected his surroundings.


There it was again. Clowney looked at the window, and before he could react, it opened.

"Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Clowney, but we need to talk."

"Who are you?! What are you doing in my window?!"

"That's exactly what I'd like to explain. We don't use have real names anymore, Mr. Clowney, but I go by [REDACTED]. I'm part of a group so secret that the President doesn't know we exist. We defend this planet from threats both terrestrial and extra, and we need to talk to you."

A bleary Clowney strode to the window and helped [REDACTED] into the room. [REDACTED] stood up, roughly 6'4, and looked like he came off the set of 300. He wore all-black tactical gear and had a strange-looking pistol strapped to his side.

"Thanks. You're obviously wondering why I'm here, and since time is short I'll get to the point. At 9 p.m. Eastern Standard Time tonight, the planet will be attacked by an alien fleet. An invasion will follow shortly thereafter. We're going to stop them."


"Yes, we. We need your help. We don't know much about these invaders, but we do know that they're at their most vulnerable when their heads pop off. We saw what you did to that running back last January, and we need your help. We don't have anything that can do what you did -- which, if I can digress for a moment, was super rad."

Clowney sat back down on his bed. His head was swimming.

"I want to help you, because I like the Earth and all, but the season opener is tonight, and Ball Coach is gonna give me hell if I don't play."

"I understand. However, if you don't come with us, there won't be a game to play anymore. We need you, Jadeveon."

Clowney stood and put some shoes on, then turned to face [REDACTED].


[Scene: An undersea base, located somewhere within the Bermuda Triangle.]

"That part where the plane turned into a sub was pretty cool, man."

"Thanks. Yeah, I really enjoy that. But there's no time to waste, we need to get you with the rest of the team and equipped for battle."

Clowney walked out of the ship and into a large, circular room. Screens on almost every surface showed the alien threats circling Earth. Four people who looked just like [REDACTED] talked intensely.

"Here he is. Everyone, this is Jadeveon. Jadeveon, this is the group. [REDACTED], [REDACTED], [REDACTED], and [REDACTED]."

"Sup squad?"

They began to shake hands, but were interrupted quickly by a blaring siren.

"Already? We need to get ready to rock. C'mon, this way!"

The walls spun to reveal racks of futuristic weaponry. The team loaded up.

"Should I get some of this stuff?"

"No, Jadeveon. You don't need those. All you need to do is blast the hell out of these bastards. You don't need a weapon -- you are the weapon."


The crew suited up and boarded the ship. Everyone was covered in body armor and weapons except for Clowney, who was still wearing South Carolina mesh shorts and flip-flops.

"Strap yourself in. Let's do this."

The crew sat, and a harness dropped down. The ship lurched towards the surface of the ocean. A moment later, the ship breached the surface and raced into the sky.

The ship crossed over land, and Clowney looked out the window. He could see a rapidly shrinking Williams-Brice Stadium, lit up and full of fans at full throat. He had no idea the hysteria that was ensuing due to his absence, but the fans also had no idea how close they were to total annihilation. They would never know.

The next week, Clowney had five sacks vs. Georgia. It paled in comparison to the 500 he had in the alien mothership, floating in low orbit over the Mid-Atlantic.

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