Willa pulled the truck to a stop in front of Andrew’s house and turned off the engine. The silence lingered for a second, then she looked at him with a perfect mix of disbelief and resignation.
"I can’t believe you spent fifteen hundred dollars on a pitching machine," she finally said, emphasizing every word as if she were still processing it.
"Fourteen ninety-five," Andrew corrected calmly.
Willa stared at him for another mont, then let out a long sigh, the kind that cos when there’s no energy left to argue. She turned her body to look toward the back of the truck.
There it was: the machine, taking up almost the entire space, huge, and with that imposing presence that made it feel like they were transporting a piece of professional equipnt stolen straight from a stadium.
Andrew hadn’t had a choice. From the exact mont he saw that pitching machine on display in the store, under the white lighting that made it shine like a sacred object to any athlete, he had known he had to buy it.
There were other options, of course.
Recreational machines between $200 and $500, perfect for casual use, for kids, for playing around without major ambitions.
Then there were the lower mid-range models, between $500 and $1,000, useful, decent, designed for consistent hobbyists but not necessarily for serious training.
And then... there was the territory Andrew set his sights on: the upper mid-range and high-end machines, ranging from $1,000 to $4,000, built for players who trained with real intensity.
Andrew decided he wasn’t going to be reasonable.
He chose an upper mid-range model, at the lower end of that segnt, yes, but still incomparable to any recreational or standard mid-range machine. It was a completely different universe.
The machine he picked had:
-Adjustable speed from 30 to 100 mph.
-Spin control for curveballs, straight pitches, and everything in between.
-A dual-wheel design that ensured stability, precision, and a clean contact point.
-Quick recovery between pitches, ideal for intense practice sessions, like the ones used by serious high school baseball teams.
It was training equipnt used by high school baseball teams. But that didn’t make it any less perfect for a kid like Luke. The machine could be set to different speeds, such as:
-30–45 mph: ideal hitting speed for a 12-year-old.
-40–55 mph: a comfortable range for a casual adult like Phil.
-60–65 mph: a demanding but fun level for recreational players looking to improve.
-70–80 mph: almost a professional-level challenge for anyone outside the competitive circuit.
Anything over 80 mph would be nearly impossible unless you took baseball seriously, even though the machine could go all the way up to 100 mph.
In other words, it was a machine that could grow with whoever used it, from a hyperactive 12-year-old to an adult who wanted to feel like he was facing real pitches.
Along with the Wii, they were the perfect gifts. Imdiate fun for Luke, and guaranteed mories for the future: afternoons with his friends, sessions with his father, competition with Jay and, of course, Andrew. Even Claire would probably join in, she hated losing at anything.
Andrew and Willa got out of the truck. There were still about thirty minutes before they had to head to the birthday party, so there was no rush.
’Good thing we took the truck...’ Andrew thought, smiling proudly at his purchase.
If they had gone in either of their cars, they never would have been able to load that enormous machine weighing over 80 pounds and taking up almost all the space. The idea of trying to fit it into the tiny trunk of the Camaro was ridiculous, and it wouldn’t have fit in the BMW either.
As they walked toward the door, Willa took one last look at the pitching machine resting in the back of the truck.
"I can’t wait to see your aunt’s face when she finds out you spent almost two thousand dollars on gifts for Luke," she said in a teasing tone.
"You spent money too. Two hundred dollars isn’t exactly cheap," Andrew replied.
Willa raised an eyebrow as she stepped up onto the small front step, "My gift is, like... nine tis cheaper than yours, Andrew."
Andrew opened his mouth to respond, but there was no logical argunt that could save him. As he walked into the house, he announced loudly, "I’m ho."
"Hey, guys," Mitch said, coming from the kitchen with a steaming cup of coffee in his right hand. "Did you manage to find a good gift?"
"Yes, Luke’s going to be very happy," Andrew answered, with a faint, confident smile that already anticipated the impact of the presents.
Mitch raised an eyebrow, curious, "What did you get?"
"A Wii..." Andrew began, and imdiately started listing all the accessories, gas, and extra controllers they had added to the package, which was perfectly wrapped in the car, ready to be handed to the birthday boy.
Mitch nodded approvingly, "Nice gift, with gas and everything."
Before Andrew could keep talking, Willa cut in, "And a quasi-professional baseball machine that’s in the back of the truck."
Silence fell instantly. Mitch froze, looked at Willa, then at his son, "Seriously?" he finally said.
Andrew nodded, barely containing his excitent, "It’s aweso, co on," he said, and Mitch followed him with a light sigh.
They stepped outside and walked over to the truck. There it was: the pitching machine in its massive box, covered in sporty graphics, technical specifications, and clearly heavy.
Mitch stood there staring at it without saying a word, "How much did it cost?" he asked after a few seconds.
"One thousand four hundred and ninety-five," Andrew replied completely naturally.
Mitch took a sip of his coffee. His expression remained totally neutral, almost zen, as he looked at the box.
"Wasn’t there a more... recreational version?" Mitch asked, using that diplomatic tone he used when trying not to sound alard.
"Yes," Andrew said without hesitation, "but if I was already going to spend that much money, why not do it right? This one’s way better. It can be used for real high school training. And Luke can still use it at low speeds. Even today, with his friends."
Mitch nodded, finding logic in the explanation, "Good gift."
He didn’t add anything else. No lecture, no warning. Andrew had bought it with his own money, and honestly, considering what he made in a single month from YouTube and sponsorships, $1,500 was almost symbolic.
After a mont, though, Mitch raised a finger, "But soone’s going to have to make sure nobody sets that thing to 80, 90, or 100 mph... otherwise we’re going to have a birthday party with injured kids."
Andrew nodded seriously. The kids might want to play with the speed dial and try sothing stupid, soone would definitely have to keep an eye on that.
With nothing else to look at, they started walking back toward the house.
"And Dad?" Andrew asked, as if suddenly rembering the one person who always made his presence known.
Mitch made a resigned face, "He’s putting on makeup..."
"Makeup?" Andrew and Willa repeated in unison, both wearing confused expressions.
Mitch closed his eyes for a second and said the word he thought he’d never have to say again:
"Fizbo."
Andrew’s expression twisted instantly in annoyance, "Why did that demonic clown co back? Didn’t he retire?"
Willa burst out laughing. She found Andrew’s aversion to clowns hilarious, though she didn’t like them either, thanks to It. Just not as much as he did.
Mitch sighed as he opened the door, "Even though he buried Fizbo years ago, he says that today Luke needs to be helped by an innocent being whose only purpose is to bring joy, laughter, and balloon animals to people, aning Fizbo. Because of what happened yesterday."
Andrew made a slight face, resigned. He couldn’t stop Fizbo from appearing at the party, even if he wanted to.
And he couldn’t really bla Cam for wanting to help in so way either, he himself had gotten carried away at dinner, talking about the ga, how proud he was of his son, and everything else. All without bad intentions, but it had still contributed to Luke’s frustration.
Inside the house, Willa stretched and said lazily, "I’m going to play with Lily for a bit, because if I sit down, I’ll fall asleep."
Andrew nodded. It made sense. They hadn’t slept much, the get-together at Willa’s place with everyone else had ended around four in the morning. Less than six hours of sleep, and that was being generous.
Andrew headed to his room, pulled the door mostly shut behind him, and dropped into his chair. He turned on the computer imdiately and opened YouTube, going straight to his channel.
His main page loaded, and his eyes landed on the subscriber count: 4,199,732 subscribers.
Andrew let out a low whistle, genuinely surprised.
At the end of October, he’d had around 3.3 million. It had been a spectacular month: nationally televised gas against Bosco and Servite, a massive dia push, and officially becoming the most-subscribed channel in the world at that mont.
But November, now almost over, had been even better. It was the month of the Southern Section playoffs, which made sense. The toughest high school football section in the country.
In less than 30 days, Andrew had gained almost 900,000 new subscribers. A dia phenonon comparable to a high school LeBron, but far bigger thanks to the internet.
National television traditional dia explosive social networks a few celebrities talking about him (like that Justin Bieber tweet) had created a perfect storm.
No one in YouTube history up to that point had seen growth this explosive. It was an unofficial record, but an obvious one: no channel had ever added that many subscribers in such a short ti.
’Who would’ve thought I’d pull this far ahead of number two...’ Andrew thought, incredulous.
At the beginning of October, he could already sll first place, he was right on the heels of the top channel. But now, barely a month later, the gap was enormous.
He clicked on the video of the final against Long Beach Poly. Seven days had already passed since it was uploaded. He’d posted it on a Saturday. The video was titled:
FINAL SOUTHERN SECTION | MATER DEI vs LONG BEACH POLY – THE RETURN OF THE KING (11 YEARS LATER) HISTORIC PASS
The video, in just one week, was already breaking records in views, comnts, and likes.
They weren’t simple highlights. It was a docuntary-style approach: the preparation, the buildup, the arrival at the stadium, interviews with fans and rivals by Howard, the ga itself, the reactions, and the postga.
That was the key.
That way of presenting the videos ant that even soone who wasn’t a football fan would end up watching the entire thing. You didn’t need to understand formations, coverages, or routes, the video stood on its own as an exciting story.
On top of that, Andrew didn’t upload only football content. He posted training routines, diets, lighter vlogs, and fun physical challenges.
That made his subscriber base more than just people interested in the sport, it was a much broader audience, even outside the United States.
In English-speaking countries where football wasn’t popular at all, Andrew still had followers. Because they didn’t find him as the prodigy high school quarterback, but through the other videos he uploaded.
As for the video of yesterday’s ga, it still wasn’t ready. Editing took ti, and unless he had finished the ga, had dinner, and locked himself in to edit with Leonard and Howard without sleeping, it was almost impossible to have it ready by noon the next day.
At best, he could finish it tonight if it were a normal Saturday. But since he was going to Luke’s birthday, that wasn’t going to happen. Most likely, it would go up tomorrow, Sunday.
’And I also have to start preparing that video with William...’ Andrew thought, his expression thoughtful as he built schedules in his head.
Who was William?
A Mater Dei student in the sa grade as him. They had never shared classes, and they had never really spoken.
They were strangers, until Andrew t him through one of the spontaneous interviews Howard did with fans at the stadium, whether before the ga, at halfti, or afterward. One of those interviewees had been William.
And William, in front of the cara, made a public promise:
That if Mater Dei won the Southern Section championship, he would lose weight. He would start following one of the diets and routines Andrew showed in his videos.
That segnt, only a few seconds long, had beco fairly famous at the ti it was uploaded. Andrew rembered it a few days later, once they were already section champions.
He saw an opportunity there, not just for content, but to genuinely help soone. He thought: Why not contact him to make that physical transformation real? And why not docunt the entire process?
William accepted enthusiastically when Andrew brought it up two days earlier.
Andrew would be the motivator, the ntal and practical support: teaching him what he knew, guiding him through the basics, and hiring professionals, nutritionists and certified trainers, so the technical side would be safe.
On top of that, he had decided to add an extra incentive. Sothing he knew really moved people and could make William commit to the physical transformation with even more enthusiasm.
A cash prize. MrBeast-style, the YouTuber who, in his past life, had been number one, with videos surpassing 100 million views.
Andrew couldn’t offer million-dollar prizes yet. But he could offer sothing aningful: $10,000–$20,000, an enormous amount for soone his age and a powerful motivator to truly get started.
It would be an ambitious video. Months of filming. A six-month deadline. Professionals involved, continuous tracking, heavy editing, and a final docuntary probably running 30 to 40 minutes.
The most ambitious video Andrew had ever conceived, but one that could change the life of soone with unhealthy habits, give them a financial reward that would truly help, and also beco the best video on his channel.
Ideally, the project would start on January 1st.
December was completely ruled out. He was in the middle of the state tournant, carrying the accumulated fatigue of the entire season, with decisive gas ahead, including a possible final against one of the most dominant high school teams in the country. On top of that ca exams, family commitnts, Christmas... too many things happening at once.
Trying to start a physical transformation video in the middle of all that would be extrely complicated, almost unworkable.
By contrast, the first day of the new year had perfect symbolism.
A new year, a new beginning, with new goals. And if the ti limit for the physical transformation was six months, that pushed the end of the project to late June. Ideal as well.
By then, Andrew would already be in the offseason: no Friday night gas, no competitive pressure, and much more room to film, follow training sessions, and fine-tune the pace of the video.
It was the mont to begin.
After a few minutes, Andrew shut down the computer, stood up, and left his room. It was ti to head to his uncles’ house.
Turning a corner in the hallway, he ran straight into Cam, completely transford into Fizbo.
Andrew flinched instantly, almost reflexively. It wasn’t paralyzing fear, just that uncomfortable reaction clowns triggered in him.
"Ta-da!" Cam exclaid, throwing his arms wide with grand flair. "Fizbo has returned, the being of light destined to bring joy and laughter to children!"
’Or to scare them into lifelong trauma... depends on the kid,’ Andrew thought to himself, wisely keeping it internal.
He also thought his uncle was going to have a rough ti, because if there was anyone who disliked clowns as much as he did... it was Phil Dunphy.
Mitch appeared behind them just in ti to see Andrew’s reaction and, with an amused smile, comnted, "You should dress up as Fizbo next Halloween and try to scare Andrew. It’d be good revenge, considering all the pranks he pulls on us."
Cam’s eyes went wide as if he’d just heard a blasphemy, "Mitchell! Fizbo is not made for that. Fizbo brings joy, magic, and light! No terror involved."
"I was just saying..." Mitch muttered, raising his hands in surrender.
At that mont, Willa ca out of a room carrying Lily, who clung to her neck with complete trust.
Seeing his daughter, Cam rushed toward them with exaggerated enthusiasm, "My little star! Co with Fizbo."
Cam held out his arms, and Willa carefully passed Lily to him.
Lily, however, made a small face as she switched arms. She wasn’t crying, but she wasn’t entirely convinced either by the smiling clown.
As everyone got ready to leave, Lily pointed her small hand at Andrew and Willa, "I go with Andy... and Willa," she said in a soft but determined voice.
Cam shook his head gently, adjusting Lily in his arms, "No, sweetheart. Andrew and Willa are going to pick up their friends and will take a bit longer. You’re riding in the car with Daddy and Fizbo."
Lily puckered her lips and reached out toward Andrew again, as if trying to grab him before he could get away.
Andrew looked at her with affection and a hint of guilt. ’Sorry, little sis...’ he thought before turning toward the truck with Willa. They still had to pick up Leonard and Steve. As for Howard, since he had his own car, he’d be coming separately.
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