Frantic chants urged the Dons' offence onto the field. They'd have their worst starting position of the day, but that was simply the hand they were dealt; they'd have to make the most of it. Time was running short, and while touchdowns could always come quick in football, today didn't seem the day for it, especially when they still needed to score twice.
Chris met them on the field, and the team soon got into formation. Starting so close to their own end-zone was a claustrophobic experience with the threat of a safety looming. They needed breathing room, and hoped Chris could get that for them; it was time to see if the Counter he wanted was going to work or not.
The ball was snapped, and Jay turned to him, looking to hand the ball off on a Stretch, but at the last moment, Jay switched hands, and Chris cut back inside. Jordy burst through the middle of the Line, lunging towards Chris, who braced himself, but this wasn't a spindly arm stretching out, but a cannonball nearly three-hundred pounds heavy.
Chris was crunched into the turf for a loss of a yard. The Counter had been their worst run, how?
Jordy pushed himself up, panting hard, sweat dripped off him onto Chris below, and he apologised before turning away, lumbering back to the Shamrocks' huddle. There he hunched over, hands on knees, even as the others rallied around him, and the calls for "dee-fence" grew a little louder.
Somehow, despite the heavy impact, Jordy had come up from the tackle worse than Chris. The Dons didn't miss out on the fact, though how to capitalise on it was a harder mystery when facing second-and-eleven.
They had to go for a pass, even with how close they were to their own end-zone. But if the D-Line was gassing out in these final stretches, Jay should be safe. He didn't drop back far, but kept on his toes as the routes developed. If Jordy was slowing, was Braxton as well? Stephen might've had a step, but he'd had that before and Braxton had still managed to make up the distance at the last second. Jay's eyes lowered.
Cole's strong feint inside faked out the defence, freeing up his Out route. Jay flicked the ball over, and Cole adjusted back, meeting it at the sideline, dragging his toes just before he stumbled out. The reception was good for 8 yards, putting the Dons back on track.
After seeing where the official's spotted the ball, and how the Dons only needed 2 more yards for another first down, Chris raced off the field. Coach Long was surprised; he'd said Chris could take a break whenever he needed one, but the drive had only just begun. Was something wrong? He met the boy on the sideline with more than a little concern showing.
'Everything alright, Chris?'
'Bring Cam on. He can get the first down.'
Coach Long didn't need to ask for confirmation, Chris's confidence shone through his eyes. There was no fear or fatigue, not even any doubt.
'Alright,' Coach Long said, 'Cameron? Get on that field.'
Cam jogged over, frowning at the pair. 'You good, Chris?' he asked, worrying the worst.
'Never been better. I just know that YOUR power can get that first down.' Chris put a fist on Cam's chest. 'They're weak in the middle, now. Coach Short was right.'
Cam glanced across the field, ignoring the hairs on the back of his neck standing up—it was like Bella had a sixth sense to know when someone used that name, and she could probably melt stone with that glare of hers; what a scary girl. "Poor Ty."
'If I'm going out there, you're coming with me, Chris. If I punch through the wall, I know you can pierce their heart.'
'That's the teamwork I like to hear,' Coach Long said, clasping both boys by the shoulder.
Gobsmacked, Chris stared at Cam. 'You're gonna… play Fullback?'
'Haha, why not?'
'That's the spirit,' Coach Long said. 'It doesn't matter who carries the ball, every yard gained is gained by the whole team. Go get it done.' He signalled for Amon to come off the field as Chris and Cam returned.
'You could do it yourself,' Chris said. 'I know you could!'
'And we'll do a better job together.'
'Shouldn't JJ lead the way for YOU?'
'He needs to focus on defence. We still need to stop these guys if we wanna win. Besides, I know the ball's a lot safer in your hands, and if I can make space for you, you can tear right through these big bastards better than I could.'
The two got into position, Chris standing ready behind Cam, who crouched down in a three-point stance. '…Thanks.'
Cam smiled, but didn't look back.
The ball was snapped, and both boys shot forward in unison. Jay bypassed Cam, and handed the ball to Chris, who followed his brother up the middle of the field. Cam darted through an opening in the Line and smashed against Jordy, knocking him aside.
The gap looked as wide as a road to Chris. He hurdled over the wreckage, then shot to the side, avoiding a diving LB. Spinning away from another, he continued forward, fighting past the first and second wave of Shamrocks, into the last line of defence. A Safety was all that stood between him and a touchdown spanning almost the full length of the field.
Safeties usually went low, and this one hunched down as well; he'd be too quick to get around, so Chris just had to go over. Chris sprung up, leaping high, hurdling the Shamrock, who rose back up, clipping Chris's leg, sending him sprawling sideways through the air.
Chris landed with a thud, rolling as he curled around the ball, clinging to it as protectively as a mother bird with her egg. The run had easily picked up the first down and then some, coming in at a total of 16 yards; the Shamrocks had weakened, and the Dons had found their new strategy.
Another burst of cheers came from the Dons' supporters, and the chants of the Shamrocks' supporters evaporated. Cam hustled across the field, helping Chris up, dusting him off, checking for injuries, Chris's smile kept stretching wider.
'You damn-near pancaked that fatass,' he said.
'Hahaha, and what about you? Trying to be Superman and leap over a skyscraper?'
'He looked a lot smaller when I started to jump … after that?' Chris shrugged. 'I was already in the air.'
The two laughed their way back to the Dons' huddle. Both still wore cheesy grins when the ball was snapped again.
With a new set of downs, the Dons kept it simple, and fed Chris once more. He surged ahead, following Cam's lead again. While the Shamrocks were expecting it, they still couldn't hold up well. Jordy was barrelled aside again, and Chris spun and juked his way through the following defenders.
Despite the second run only being half as effective as the first, that was still 8 yards, and kept the Dons' momentum rolling as they thundered onwards.
Stephen marched with purpose to the huddle. Now was his moment. Everyone was pulling their weight; it was about time he did the same. Braid Bitch was slowing, just like Jordy had. If he couldn't overcome Braxton now, then he never would. Did he deserve to be on the team if that was the case? The rest of the boys would pull through, and drag themselves to the championship game even if he failed, he knew they would, they were just that strong, but would HE be a champion worthy of sharing the field with them? No. He HAD to do this.
'Jay,' he said, standing next to him in the huddle. 'If you trust me, I'll go deep.'
'I'll always trust you … big dawg.'
Stephen cracked a smile. 'You still got the shittiest nicknames.'
'Coming up with anything better is … too much effort.'
Stephen's smile faded. 'I promise I'll win.'
Jay nodded. Nothing else needed to be said.
Stephen walked over to his position; Braxton met him, breathing too hard for trash-talk, so Stephen had to lead.
'Seeing the look on your face when you're forced to shake my hand after losing … fuck that's gonna be good.'
Braid Bitch's expression darkened. The ball was snapped and Stephen lowered his head, launching forward like a sprinter out of the blocks. Braid Bitch swiped at him, turning to follow as they raced down the sideline, but Stephen was pulling away.
The corners of Jay's mouth tilted up ever-so-slightly as he heaved the ball deep. Stephen turned his head, locating the ball against the dome, a faint black spot against stars. He kept running, Braxton behind him, pounding the turf, huffing almost as loud as their footsteps. They lunged.
For once, Braxton couldn't reach Stephen, couldn't eclipse him. He fell desperately short, clinging to Stephen's legs. The ball was secure in Stephen's grip as he landed, twisting around, legs tangled by Braxton's long arms, he fell forward, stretching out further. He'd taken too long getting into the game, and he intended to earn every yard he could now he could finally make an impact.
After tumbling over, Stephen was quick to his feet; Braxton remained on the ground until a teammate hurried over, helping him up. His eyes were weary, chest heaving. Stephen had won. It'd taken many setbacks, but he'd held on, and won through attrition. He'd earned his place alongside his brothers.
The catch had been good for 26 yards, bringing the Dons well across half-field. Beyond even the point their last drive failed, yet a field goal held no appeal to them anymore; it was all or nothing from that point onward.
The Dons were unstoppable whether through the air or on the ground. The Shamrocks couldn't force their numbers to the defence of one, without leaving them wide open to the other. Play-Action sent them into chaos, scrambling back into position as Stephen streaked across the field on a deep Post, raking in another strong catch, stopped by a Safety taking out his legs after a gain of 22 yards. The Dons were in the red-zone.
More Shamrocks sagged as they were forced further back, rushing into position to keep up with the rapid attack. The Dons were relentless, moving through their huddles quickly, almost forgoing them entirely.
A Draw was almost as effective as Play-Action had been. Cam still led the way for Chris as the Line parted for them both. Cam was even able to keep his feet after knocking Jordy aside, taking out the next Shamrock in their way. Chris scrambled ahead, but with the shortened field, the deeper defenders were quicker to react, and just barely kept him out of the end-zone.
2 short yards were all that stood between the Dons and a tie game. Chris hammering it home seemed a formality, but in the huddle, all eyes turned to Stephen. The most damaging blow they could deal to the Shamrocks would be beating them with another giant.
Braxton had been on his last legs throughout the drive, but with the Dons so close to completing their comeback, he'd found a second wind through rage alone.
'You people will NEVER be better than us.' Spit dribbled out of his mouth, flung from his chin as he paced before Stephen. 'You'll never win. You won't stop Jeremiah again. Now wipe that fucking smile of your dirty face!'
Stephen's eyes gleamed. Braxton's insults were as meaningful as a fly's buzzing the moment before the spider ate them.
'You admit I'm better?'
'What?! Of course not! You—'
'Then why's it up to Jeremiah, you stupid, racist fuck?'
Braxton reacted as if physically shocked. He cowered back a step, still wearing a fake, nonthreatening snarl.
'You know I'm 'bout to whoop your ass, and you think your giant butt-buddy can save you? Must be so easy playing on that team. Any problems, you just go running to that giant motherfucker. You must be worthless without him.'
'You—!'
Braid Bitch lunged forward just as the ball was snapped. Stephen side-stepped and shot ahead to the back corner of the end-zone. Braid Bitch clung to his jersey, but he pulled free. When he turned back, the ball was already on its way. He stretched up, raising onto his toes as he plucked the ball from the sky and fell out-of-bounds.
The screams already began before the officials had even signalled the touchdown. Stephen stood tall, ball raised above his head. He stared down at Braxton. "Why did I ever think he was the same height as me?" From where he stood, Braxton looked like nothing more than an ant.
The Dons rallied around Stephen as Braxton slunk away, returning to the Shamrocks' bench alone, ashamed. Stephen handed the touchdown ball to Chris, pulling him into a hug.
'That was all you!' Stephen said.
'No way!' Chris responded, rejecting the ball. 'You did most of the work, but if anyone was responsible for those runs, it was Cam.'
They turned to Cam, but he shook his head. 'C'mon, I barely did anything. It's a team effort, ain't it?'
'I'm happy to take responsibility,' Jay said.
'Hell nah, all you had to do was hand the ball off, and throw it up someone—me—who was way open.'
Laughter flowed from the Dons as they returned to the sideline, though they were stopped just before stepping off the field. Coach Long stood on the edge of the sideline, hand raised. Coach Norman stood beside him, talking into his ear. Neither man looked at the boys coming off the field, their attention was focused in the middle of it, before the end-zone.
Jeremiah stood, towering over the Shamrocks' special teams unit as they stood waiting for the Dons' kicking team to come out for the extra point attempt.
Jay sighed, stepping forward. He was about to ask what was going on, but shut his mouth as he heard Coach Norman speak up.
'The offence is hot, we should keep them on, go for two. If we try a kick, he'll just block it again.'
Coach Long scratched his chin, staring past the Dons. It wasn't that he didn't trust his boys, he just wanted to avoid unnecessary risks. A snap could go bad, the ball could be batted down by a Lineman, a catch could be dropped, the hand-off could be fumbled, a runner could trip.
Sure, kicks had some risks as well, something could go wrong in the sequence of snap, catch, hold, and kick, but there were less variables. The kicking team trained specifically for this moment. It was drilled into them so much they could do it in their sleep.
'He won't block it,' Coach Long said. 'It's too close, we don't have to kick it flat to try to get more distance, we can chip it over him. No, we go for the safest option—always—and that's the extra point.'
Coach Norman bit back a complaint. It wasn't his call at the end of the day. What Coach Long said is what stood.
Jay shrugged, happy he wasn't being forced back onto the field. He had full faith in the kicking team; a block was just an anomaly, one that wouldn't happen again.
Ty stared as Stringbean stretched behind the long wall of Shamrocks preparing for the block. Why was Stringbean allowed to impact special teams? Was Ty too focused on bettering his defence? Maybe he'd have to work on his returns during the off-season. After all, why should he be relying on an offence to give him a lead to protect? Had this game not almost been an example of why he needed to find his own touchdowns?
The crowd quietened as both teams prepared for the kick. Even the Shamrocks' supporters were silent, their hope and heart linked to the Shamrocks' lead which was about to be expunged.
The ball was snapped, the hold was steady. Boot came against ball, sending it skyward. Jeremiah ran and leapt, stretching higher into the air than any high-schooler had a right to reach. The ball deflected off his hand, ricocheting sideways, smashing into right post and bouncing back into the field.
The score remained 23–24; the Shamrocks clung to the narrowest of leads.
The air was sucked from the building. A flicker of hope reignited within the Shamrocks, just when it seemed it'd be snuffed out. Jeremiah stood tall, and the flicker strengthened into a beacon.
As much as the Dons had hoped to overcome with the strength of family, it seemed Jeremiah was too much for even that combined effort. Ty rose, limbering up. If anyone were to end the Shamrocks' ridiculous notion of winning this game, it'd be him, and he'd have to slay the giant once again to do so.