DALLAS — We begin on a chilly January day in 2012, the first workout for the first group of players on Urban Meyer's first team at Ohio State.
It's fresh and it's new and everything about the previous festering infection of a season — the fired beloved coach, the NCAA investigation, the seven losses — has been salved over by the arrival of wonderful change.
It is here where the entire Ohio State football program saw what it was getting in Cardale Jones.
"We're 30 seconds into it, not working out, just getting loose, and boom! Cardale goes down," says Mickey Marotti, Ohio State's strength and conditioning coach. "He's screaming, 'trainers!' No way did I think he'd ever play quarterback at Ohio State."
Now here we are, some three years later, and this goofy, gregarious and loveable knucklehead has made such an astounding transformation in such a short time, it's utterly unrecognizable.
The screw-up with no hope is now the potential star with everything on his once-slouched shoulders. A Heisman Trophy favorite gets injured in camp, his backup and eventual Heisman candidate gets injured in the regular season's last game, and the next thing you know, Mr. Don't Know Don't Care is bouncing off the sidelines to preserve one big victory, lead his team to a Big Ten Championship in his first start, and navigate a monster upset in the first round of the College Football Playoff.
You couldn't script this thing any crazier.
"It's unreal," Jones said. "It's like a friggin' movie or a book. I'm pinching myself, but I can't pinch myself any harder. I guess I won't wake up."
Before we go any further, let's explain that this transformation wasn't something that happened over three years. This metamorphosis happened in all of — are you ready for this? — three weeks.
Three lousy weeks.
"Are you kidding? We were in fall camp, and he's still last in sprints," Marotti said. "I used to scream at him, 'You're never playing quarterback here.' "
Now look at him: Jones is blocking everyone but his mother from his phone because suddenly, after throwing for four touchdowns in two career starts, everyone wants a piece of him.
His podium at Saturday's CFP Media Day was more crowded than Meyer's, and fans that were roped off the event but able to view it from grandstands in the Dallas Convention Center (it's Dallas, just roll with it) were chanting his name.
Yet the only person who has been able to gain his attention, the only one who could be the impetus to turn this lovable loafer into a focused, fierce winner, had absolutely no connection to football. His daughter Chloe was born on Nov. 7, 2014, a sweet bundle of inspiration when Jones needed it most.
Three weeks later, he was thrown into the Michigan game — The Game — when J.T. Barrett broke an ankle and Ohio State was down another quarterback. Nothing has been the same since.
"When she was born," Jones said, "I knew right then things had to change."
Funny what life can do when you least expect it. One day you're the clown car, the next day the Maserati.
One day teammates are screaming because you're dragging (again) in wind sprints and you're going to make everyone run again, the next the confetti is falling in the Superdome and you're on a stage and some guy shoves a national television microphone in your face and the only thing you can think is how in the world did it come to this?
You could be in your backyard, a kid and his football playing out dream scenarios, and it could never, ever, find a way to this.
"It's the most remarkable story," Ohio State wideout Evan Spencer said.
Your coach freely admits he never thought you'd play quarterback; your teammates laugh at the very idea of it. That was Meyer earlier this year, walking away from a practice with offensive coordinator Tom Herman — before the unthinkable second injury to an Ohio State quarterback — and asking if Jones could play quarterback at Ohio State.
"I told him without a doubt he can play here," Herman said. "I think Urban didn't believe me at first. Come to think of it, he may not have believed me until he saw it."
And that falls in line with the rest of this story.
Before this two-game run; before celebrities began following him on Twitter and before he visited a Columbus hospital in December because a woman who had heart surgery wanted desperately to meet her new Buckeyes hero — hero, imagine that — the caveat with Jones was always you're not going to believe it.
You're not going to believe he can, with one knee on the ground, throw a ball 65 yards. You're not going to believe the guy they call 12-Gauge (shotgun arm, get it?), can stand in the middle of the Woody Hayes Athletic Center, throw a ball straight up and hit the ceiling four stories above.
You're not going to believe the free spirit they call Cardizzle, the one who refused to change until life forced itself on him.
And you're not going to believe how it turned out.
"We're all allowed to change, to grow up," Ohio State defensive tackle Michael Bennett said. "Some of us do it differently than others."
Soon after Chloe was born, Jones began wearing a wristband that says E + R — O. Motivational speaker Kent Julian, who addresses university students all over the nation, came up with his formula to gets teens moving forward — instead of looking back.
Event + Response = Outcome.
The event doesn't determine your outcome; the event plus the way you respond determines your outcome.
For three years, the events ruled Cardale Jones. For two months, his response has ruled them.
"When I wake up now, I do what needs to be done," Jones said. "It's not just about me anymore."
You couldn't script it any crazier.