Beau Pribula—fresh off a portal journey from Penn State—dropped back on the Tigers’ fourth offensive snap against Central Arkansas and unleashed a 49-yard dart to wide receiver Marquis Johnson. The ball sailed perfectly into Johnson’s hands on a deep post route, untouched, for Missouri’s first touchdown of the year. The score put Mizzou up 7-0 early in a 61-6 rout, but what followed silenced the stadium in the best way possible: not with cheers, but with a collective hush of empathy.
Johnson, a speedy redshirt sophomore from St. Louis’s De Smet Jesuit High School, didn’t spike the ball or dance into the end zone. He dropped to one knee, pointed skyward, and let the tears flow. Teammates swarmed him—first Pribula, then the offensive line, piling on in a helmet-clinking huddle that felt more like a family reunion than a football play. Pribula, mic’d up for the broadcast, was caught whispering, “We got you, bro—this for her.” The “her”? Johnson’s mother, Danyale, who battled cancer with unyielding ferocity but passed away in 2023 at just 48 years old. A single mom and school bus driver, Danyale never missed one of Marquis’s games, even as treatments sapped her strength. “She always said she’d see me play big-time ball one day,” Johnson told reporters post-game, his voice steady but eyes still red. “This one’s hers. Every snap from here on out.”
That 49-yard strike wasn’t just Pribula’s first completion as a Tiger—it was the emotional ignition for a team navigating its own transitions. Pribula, a 6-foot-2, 212-pound graduate transfer out of Central York High in Pennsylvania, had entered fall camp in a heated battle with returning QB Sam Horn for the starting nod. The plan? Split the opener between them—Pribula the first half, Horn the second. But fate, as it often does in football, had other ideas. Horn suffered a season-ending broken tibia on a trick play early in the game, thrusting Pribula into the full spotlight. He didn’t flinch. Going 23-of-28 for 283 yards and two scores through the air, plus 65 rushing yards and two more TDs on the ground, Pribula orchestrated six touchdown drives, including a pair of 99-yard marches that evoked vintage Mizzou magic.
“It’s a law of attraction,” Pribula said afterward, grinning through the adrenaline. “I probably envisioned that deep ball a couple times before the game… but it’s easy when Marquis is running the route for you.” For Johnson, though, the ease was in the symbolism. Danyale had been his biggest cheerleader, shuttling him to practices and dreaming aloud about SEC Saturdays. Her loss lingered like a quiet ache, but that touchdown? It was release. “Mom was my rock,” Johnson shared in a sideline interview with SEC Network. “She fought so hard, and I feel her pushing me every day. When that ball hit my hands, it was like she was right there, saying ‘Go get it, baby.’”
The moment rippled beyond the field. Clips of Johnson’s tribute exploded on social media—X (formerly Twitter) threads amassed over 500,000 views by halftime, with #MizzouMom trending locally. Fans posted stories of their own losses, turning a routine opener into a viral beacon of resilience. “In a sport full of highlight reels, this was a highlight for the heart,” tweeted Mizzou beat writer Dave Matter of the St. Louis Post-Dispatch. Even opponents chimed in: Central Arkansas coach Nathan Brown, whose Bears were outmatched from the jump, called it “the classiest score I’ve seen in years.”
For Pribula, the play was personal too. The York, Pa., native grew up in a football family—dad Tad played baseball at West Virginia, brother Cade quarterbacked at Delaware—but he knows grief’s weight. His grandparents drove hours for every youth camp, instilling a “family first” ethos that carried him through Penn State’s depth chart wars. “Seeing Marquis pour it out like that… it hits home,” Pribula reflected in a post-game scrum. “Football’s more than yards and wins. It’s therapy, man. We all carry stuff, and moments like this remind you why you play.” At Penn State, he’d been Drew Allar’s reliable backup, logging 10 total TDs across three seasons but craving the reins. The portal call in December 2024 was tough—practicing that very day before hugging teammates goodbye mid-playoff prep. Missouri? It felt like destiny: Coach Eli Drinkwitz’s high-octane attack, a supportive locker room, and now this cathartic debut.
Leave a Reply