association with the Trib after this situation, that he got this article they wrote and sent it over. Its stunning and disturbing. There's the off chance its not real (its not) but it sounds super legit! Last names are redacted and and I don't have another source to confirm so if there are inaccuracies I apologize to Wakely and Leavitt. Here's what my buddy (who was an AP on his mission by the way) sent me:
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This story, verified by ironclad sources, came to the Salt Lake Tribune before the game in question. However, the Tribune, in a peculiar twist of cruelty, refused to share the information publicly, instead sealing it away in their vault—a vault reportedly brimming with roses and pictures of Cam Rising.
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In the weeks leading up to the highly anticipated matchup between BYU and ASU, whispers circulated about Crew, BYU’s safety, and his peculiar off-field habits. Crew had developed a routine of studying film with Dallin, a former Utah State player with a questionable past. It all started innocently. Just one friend helping another, but behind the façade Dallin harbored a deep-seated grudge against BYU, a team he once played for before transferring out in a bitter fallout. In his mind his disdain for BYU was legendary, rooted in losing playing time and festering arrogance even after his team suffered crushing defeats to the Cougars.

The setting for their clandestine film sessions was a dimly lit, suspiciously nondescript room in a rundown motel on the outskirts of Ogden. Just a few miles from USU where they had first met. The air was heavy with the scent of stale coffee and cigarette smoke, though neither man seemed to indulge in either, it fit their moods. The walls were adorned with faded, mismatched wallpaper, and the only light came from a flickering neon sign outside the window that buzzed incessantly. A rickety table was strewn with loose-leaf paper, a tablet displaying BYU’s playbook, and a few crumpled bills that hinted at the financial incentives driving the meetings. Dallin’s eyes gleamed with a mix of desperation and cunning as he leaned forward, pleading his case to Crew.

“Look, Crew, you know I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important,” Dallin began, his voice low and urgent. “My brother Sam… he’s not sleeping, man. He’s terrified of BYU’s defense. You’ve got to help me help him.”

At first, Crew resisted. The idea of betraying his team for any reason felt abhorrent, but Dallin was relentless and he had help Crew learn and grow. Dallin appealed to Crew’s frustrations—the lack of a scholarship, the injury that left him sidelined for the big game, and the perceived lack of appreciation from BYU’s coaching staff. Dallin sweetened the deal with a mix of cash, which he insinuated came from ASU’s coaching staff, and flattery, calling Crew one of the smartest players he’d ever met.

“You’re not just some guy, Crew,” Dallin said, his tone dripping with sincerity. “You’re the guy. You see things others don’t. BYU doesn’t appreciate that, but I do. We can do something big here.”

Reluctantly, Crew caved. He revealed BYU’s game plan, pointing out key defensive strategies and play-calling tendencies. As they pored over the details, Dallin’s demeanor shifted from desperate to jubilant. “This is gold,” he muttered, grinning as he scribbled notes before catching himself in the broken mirror and flexing his pecs. “It’s all gold.”
When guilt began to creep in, Dallin was quick to dispel it. “Don’t overthink it, Crew,” he said, clapping him on the back. “BYU’s already forgotten about you. You’re just leveling the playing field. Besides, this is about family. Sam needs this.”

Later that night, the two watched "The Waterboy" in the same dingy room, their laughter echoing off the cracked walls. At some point, their hands found each other, clasping in a bizarre camaraderie as they chuckled at the absurd antics on screen. The flickering neon light from outside painted their faces in alternating hues of red and blue. Dallin leaned over during a particularly quiet moment and whispered, “You’ll always be a better player than anyone at BYU. They don’t deserve you.” The words, though vindictive, seemed to soothe Crew’s unease, and the two continued watching as if the betrayal was just another play in their twisted game.

The game itself was a disaster for BYU in the first half. ASU’s Sam Leavitt appeared almost omniscient, anticipating every move BYU’s defense made. After the game, Sam smirked and made a cryptic comment to the press: “Let’s just say I was extremely well-prepared. It’s like I knew what they were going to do before they did it.” The implications were clear to those who knew the full story.

BYU’s national championship hopes were dashed that night, and the fallout was severe. The betrayal by Crew, once considered a promising player, became the stuff of legend—a cautionary tale of loyalty, ambition, and the lengths some will go to settle a score.