Matthew Emmons/USA Today

Four days before he became a football immortal, Cardale Jones met Superman.

With the national championship game on the horizon, Ohio State's "third-string" quarterback and college football's sudden superstar—appropriately nicknamed 12 Gauge—could feel the weight of the world resting on his enormous shoulders.

But for one night, January 8, he holstered his extraordinary right arm. He took a break from marathon film sessions, press conferences and the burden that comes with greatness. He stepped out of the spotlight and back into his comfort zone, putting smiles on faces on Floor 4B of Nationwide Children's Hospital in Columbus.

This was not by chance. In fact, unlike his swirling football fate, this all made perfect sense. It's where Jared Foley, a 16-year-old recovering after his seventh open-heart surgery, was resting only days after being cut open yet again. It's where Jones wanted to be.

"That time was hectic," Jones told Bleacher Report. "I was getting ready for a playoff game. For him to ask me to come see him, it meant a lot. That was an opportunity I couldn't pass up."

David J. Phillip/Associated Press

They talked Ohio State football. They talked life. They played what would soon become the most discussed game of EA's NCAA Football 14 in the history of the franchise. And yes, they talked some trash.

Over the hours and days that followed, this moment would become national news. It was featured on CNN. It made SportsCenter. It became a T-shirt. It was discussed on sports talk radio airwaves from coast to coast.

Let's be clear. This isn't a "Famous Athlete Visits Children's Hospital, Wallops Sick Child 98-35 in Video Game" story. Those headlines have already been written. They tell a story, but they fall short of telling the story.

"It means a lot to me. These are things I was doing before the spotlight ever came," Jones said. "It means a little more to people now because they see a guy with some influence, but this has always been me. I don't want people to think that because I'm in the spotlight I'm doing outreaches. These are things I really enjoy doing. This is my passion."

Underdogs

Image via Stacey Foley

This is a story about heart. Not the ball of muscle and membrane that ultimately brought Jones and the Foleys together. This is a story about heart in the way football coaches use the word.

It's about two young men who, at face value, have nothing in common—but, at the root of it all, have everything in common.

In one corner sits the unexpected face of college football, a 6'5" battering ram with a mortar for a right arm and dreams of NFL stardom that seemed far-fetched at best just a month before. In the other corner rests a resilient 16-year-old standing tall at 5'0" and 96 pounds—his latest heart surgery scar still fresh across the chest. It's his seventh one.

One of them is nicknamed Superman. The other is a football player.

Jared Foley was born with hypoplastic left heart syndrome, a birth defect that impacts blood flow throughout the organ. As a result, hospitals and surgeries have become an unavoidable fact of life.

However, no matter the procedure or circumstances, Foley has always recovered more quickly and come back stronger than his surgeon's forecast. It's why his heart surgeon gave him the nickname in the first place.

On January 5, Superman had his tricuspid valve replaced. It was not a surgery the family anticipated or one Jared's mother gave much thought when it was first discussed. More drastic measures were being considered.

"It was a surgery we debated, so we kind of put it off for a while," Stacey Foley, Jared's mother, said. "But we decided to go for it, and it turned out better than any of us could expect. We were contemplating putting him on the transplant list or trying this one last surgery."

This surgery proved to be an overwhelming success. Jared left the hospital only five days after having his chest cut open once again. The original plan was that he would still be recovering in the ICU after this point.

Superman.

Before the Foleys returned to their Pataskala, Ohio, home, a game was played. Headlines were made. An unanticipated bond was formed.

Superman vs. 12 Gauge

Image via Stacey Foley

Zach Smith, Johnnie Dixon and Cardale Jones entered Nationwide Children's Hospital on January 8 with the intention of staying no more than 20 minutes. The plan was to make an appearance and then head back to campus. They didn't walk out the front doors until nearly three hours later.

They entered the hospital, and buzz resonated through each floor as they made their way upward. When they entered Jared's room, his eyes lit up. A crowded room of family and friends erupted.

Smith, Ohio State's wide receivers coach, is married to Stacey Foley's niece. He set the table for the game when he grabbed Dixon—the Buckeyes' promising young wideout—and Jones to make a surprise visit to Jared's room.

"Unbelievable family," Jones said. "They were in such great spirits. They were so uplifting and there were so many people in the room supporting him making sure they would do any and everything they could to make him feel better. I love his family."

As the initial shock and jubilation of the visit subsided, Jones took note of the Xbox controllers looking lonely and bored near Foley's hospital bed. With a copy of NCAA Football 14 in the room and football on the brain, the system was powered on.

Although Foley is a massive Ohio State fan, he gave Jones the honor of playing as the Buckeyes. Given the timing, it seemed appropriate. Jared settled on Georgia.

"One of my cousins went there," Foley explained the decision.

The game began, and the first notable development did not actually take place on the field. Jones decided to make a change at quarterback.

"I had Braxton [Miller] in for a minute. Then I decided to put myself in," Jones said. "I think my overall rating in the game was a 78 or 79. Once I got in, I started doing things like I would have if it were a real game."

98-35

Although an avalanche of points would soon overwhelm Superman, Foley had an early lead. Forget about not getting blown out; Foley could taste victory.

And then the second half began.

"My offense decided to be horrible," Foley said. "I just kept throwing interceptions. I don't remember how many I threw, but I know it was a lot."

After returning the opening kickoff in the second half for a touchdown, Jones dug deep into his defensive playbook. Knowing precisely what would bother him in the same position, he flipped the script entirely.

"I tried to take advantage of him not being a quarterback," Jones joked. "I disguised defenses as much as possible. And I blitzed a lot."

It was right around this moment that the first verbal jab was unleashed. As the game started to slip away—and as Jones started to unleash his virtual fury—the back-and-forth between the two started in earnest.

"There was a little bit of [trash talk]," Foley said. "It was him. Well, it was mostly him."

The touchdowns did not stop, and they came from predominantly one source: virtual Cardale Jones.

Although Jared leaned on his 20-year-old brother Jake for some football guidance—serving in an impromptu consulting/coordinator role—his presence did not slow down the inevitable. The deficit grew.

"We just kept blaming it on Georgia," Stacey said.

With less than one minute remaining and the score sitting comfortably at 91-35, Jones did not slow down. He did not take a knee or even consider the most unpopular play in the playbook. With the game firmly won and then some and then some more, the idea of halting the onslaught never once crossed his mind.

He scored the game's final touchdown as the seconds ticked away.

98-35.

"I knew I was winning and crushing him," Jones said. "But I was more excited that I was playing as myself."

Jones finished the game with a stat line that was absurd, even in the video game realm. He completed 17 of 19 passes for 395 yards. He added 209 yards rushing and scored seven touchdowns.

"We were teasing Cardale not to waste it all on a video game," Stacey said. "We had a national championship coming up."

The Aftermath

We are prisoners to the box score. It tells a story, although it often leaves out the key ingredients. Numbers can be contagious, emotionless ways to bottle up talent. Rarely do these figures stretch beyond surface level.

In the instance of Foley vs. Jones, the scoreboard served as a backdrop. It also did not lie. The 98-35 score was real and not a fluke by any means, even if Foley might argue otherwise.

But if anything, the lopsided nature of the game only made the love and atmosphere even more palpable.

"We were all having a lot of fun with it. The whole room was laughing and carrying on the whole time," Stacey said. "Jared was sitting in his hospital bed, and Cardale was just sitting right by his side."

Two underdogs, both searching for some kind of normalcy, found just that in a game. Between touchdowns and the occasional lip service, Jared and Cardale got to know each other.

"He's really strong and just a competitor. He just has that fight about him," Jones said of Jared. "There was just something about him; you just knew this kid was special. The Foleys were some of the most unbelievable people I've ever met."

Image via Stacey Foley

As the game got out of hand, Smith's scoreboard updates began to get traction through social media. When he delivered the final score—or what many thought was the final score—it all seemed to go viral.

"When we were in the hospital, people were blowing up our phones," Stacey said. "We had no idea what was going on."

Inside the hospital walls, the buzz from Jared's room began to spread quickly. As laughter poured out of the recovery room and into the hallways, those in the vicinity were drawn to the commotion. A crowd of nurses and children huddled outside the room, hoping to get a glimpse of the Buckeyes' new superstar.

"They ended up visiting almost all of the kids on the floor that night," Stacey said. "As they were leaving, the kids who could get out of their beds came out to the hallway, shook their hands, and they took pictures with everyone. It was such a nice experience. They were so polite."

As they made the rounds, a doctor's eyes welled up with tears as the quarterback greeted her. He embraced her right back. The madness of the outside world subsided, even for a short while.

Stacey Foley received a text message from Smith just a few days later. The coach wanted to thank her on behalf of his players who were just honored to have made the trip. They were still thinking about the night, even with a national championship closing in.

"Thank me?" she replied.

Since that night on 4B, Foley has had another surgery. This particular procedure had nothing to do with his heart, but rather a hernia that demanded repairing. He returned home the very next day in true Superman fashion.

The prognosis following his seventh open-heart surgery has remained exceedingly positive. When I reached out to speak with him not long after the procedure, Foley was unavailable to talk. He was busy playing hockey with friends.

Superman.

"Things are going amazing," Stacey added.

Image via Jared Foley

This is a story about resiliency. This is a story about heart.

After nearly bottoming out at Ohio State early in his collegiate career, Jones didn't just rally; he put himself in a position where he was able to turn down the NFL draft and the possibility of millions of dollars. He did so for another shot at another national championship and to earn his degree.

Foley bounced back from another life-threatening procedure, coming out the other side stronger and more optimistic than ever before. It has never been easy, but you wouldn't know it. It's not hard to see why the Foleys made such an impression on Jones. It's who they are.

David J. Phillip/Associated Press

Heart is what made this moment so extraordinary. A 16-year-old patient and a quarterback on the brink of stardom came together as equals at the most important and chaotic moments of their lives.

They came together and played a game that was never about the score despite our eagerness to embrace a catchy headline. On the surface, 98-35 was the story.

Dig deeper, below each layer of muscle and membrane, below a box score unsuited for the football realm, up the stairs and onto 4B, and you will find a bond that transcends hospitals, stadiums and the virtual world.

Perhaps their paths will cross again. Perhaps a rematch is in order. Foley believes the outcome will be far different this time around with a different team at his fingertips; he wants to make that perfectly clear. He's ready to create his own headlines and get his virtual revenge.

He's ready to erase the memories of 98-35 while keeping the rest with him for eternity.

"Tell him I don't care who he picks," Jones said. "I'll crush him."

Adam Kramer is the College Football National Lead Writer for Bleacher Report. Unless noted, all quotes were obtained firsthand.