Jeremiah fumed as he stalked off the field. Bodies parted before him as he went straight to where Trevor sat on the bench, sipping a cup of Gatorade.
Jeremiah snatched the cup then said: 'You better pass me the ball when we get out there again.'
Trevor suppressed a frown. Tensions were running high, now wasn't the time to lose his cool, even if Jeremiah was pushing it. 'Chill. I won't even need to throw—'
'I don't give a fuck if Coach says to run out the clock. You're both as stupid as those Dons if you think you'll get away with just running for five minutes.'
'Yeah maybe, but it'll help, then you can get some short passes or—'
'Just throw me the fucking ball. I WON'T squeeze out a win like we barely survived these worthless freaks. I'm gonna BEAT them like they deserve.' His eyes narrowed, focusing all his hate on Trevor. 'You better not throw a shit pass that gets picked off. If you fuck up again you're off the team, and don't think you'll be safe running back to basketball either.'
Trevor gritted his teeth. If this was how football was going to be, maybe he wouldn't be back next season anyway. But basketball? That was taking it too far, nobody could stop him from chasing that dream. … He lowered his head.
'Alright, whatever. I'll throw you the ball, just make sure you win.'
'Oh I'll win, you don't have to worry about that.'
The following kickoff was another touchback. Trevor's shoulders were still slumped as he and the offence took the field, hoping to seal their victory with one last drive.
The air had changed around Jeremiah. Ty would have to be as thick-headed as the giant not to notice it. He approached calmly, looking towards the rest of the Shamrocks. One benefit of guarding a TE was being much closer to the QB pre-snap, which gave him a much better indicator of how they were thinking. Trevor tried to mask it, but his eyes were darting about too quickly. He was worried, and if he was worried, he would make mistakes. Ty bounced on his toes, awaiting the snap.
At the snap, Jeremiah surged forward, shouldering past Ty to stick with his line. Ty turned to follow, but stopped mid-step. It wasn't a pass, but a run, one that skirted around the side away from Jeremiah and Ty. There wasn't even Play-Action, so Ty didn't know why Stringbean was running.
"He must be a bigger idiot than I thought."
The run went nowhere. The Dons' D-Line blew it up comfortably without Ty or even Donte having any effect; it wasn't like Jeremiah would've helped even if he did block.
Returning to the Dons' huddle with the crowd celebrating their success, Ty watched as Jeremiah stormed back to confront Trevor, yelling in his face even as the O-Line separated them.
Ty glanced to the scoreboard. Obviously, Stringbean was upset because he'd been nullified for most of the second half, but the Shamrocks were playing smart, draining the clock as much as they could. Still, if they wanted to keep control of the ball, and keep draining the clock, they'd have to return to the air eventually, and Ty would be ready when they did.
It wasn't on second down, which was yet another unsuccessful run, earning only a single yard as they pushed through the middle. That didn't stop Jeremiah from charging ahead on a deep route again.
Jeremiah's anger compounded, but he held it in, only glaring at Trevor instead of shouting. Third down was upon them, however. Surely the Shamrocks would try a pass. Ty had to capitalise.
At the snap, Jeremiah surged once more, and finally the other Receivers followed him as Trevor dropped back to throw. Ty calmly ran back, eyes flicking between Stringbean and Trevor, waiting for the ball; it had to be coming their way.
On the sides of the field there was an Out and another Vertical, with a deep Corner attacking the opposite sideline, keeping both Sonny and Zayden occupied, leaving Ty and Jeremiah alone as they plunged into the middle of the field.
Trevor loosed the ball just as Ty and Jeremiah were approaching half-field. Jeremiah turned his head, watching the ball descend. Even as Ty backed up to give himself a runway to launch at the ball, Jeremiah crept forward, blocking the path. Ty swung around to the side, but Jeremiah followed, keeping one eye on Ty and one on the ball, he turned side on, keeping Ty at bay, like he was boxing out an opponent just before going for a rebound. Even only barely extending one of his long arms gave him plenty of space. He stretched out his free hand to the ball, lunging towards it, practically stabbing it from the sky. Ty lunged, swiping desperately, fruitlessly. He latched onto Jeremiah in his follow through, making sure there would be no extra yards after the catch.
Yet even though Jeremiah was tackled on the spot, the reception still brought the Shamrocks to half-field and deadened the crowd. Stopping their runs was well and good, but it'd only take a couple of similar throws to score another touchdown, and potentially put the game out of reach.
'You'll never be on my level,' Jeremiah said. The fire of his anger had left his voice; now the ball was back in hand, he was back on the path to victory.
Ty watched him swagger away. There was no time for hate; no time for anger. He needed to be better; needed to be faster. He had to get around that shield Jeremiah was erecting. If he could do that, he could reach it first. He WOULD out-jump that stupid Stringbean.
Time wound down further as the Shamrocks continued on the ground for the next two plays. The Dons did their best to pop the ball free. They clobbered Shannon, though he kept his arms wrapped tight around the ball, not risking a fumble, even as he failed to gain more than 2 yards with his runs—the yards didn't matter.
Another deep catch from Stringbean brought the game to the two-minute warning, and the Shamrocks to the red-zone.
The shield had been too much again. Ty had tried to spin around it, but that only made him look like an idiot as he went nowhere, and Stringbean had an even easier catch, almost breaking away for the touchdown right then. Thankfully, Ty wrangled him down at the 18-yard line.
The two-minute warning gave him time to stew in his failure. And it was HIS failure. His teammates weren't going to bail him out this time. They shouldn't have to—he shouldn't NEED them to—they'd already done their job. Even so, the rest of the Shamrocks' offence was keeping them at bay, keeping the middle of the field wide open. If someone tried to help Ty, that'd just leave an opening for another Receive to exploit.
Another run, whilst only gaining a yard, forced the Dons to use one of their timeouts, and gave Ty more time to think. But what was there to think about? No-one was coming to help him—Coach Hoang barely looked at him during the breaks—and there were no tricks he could use, he just had to be better.
Shannon's next run went nowhere. Still, it accomplished its job. During the Dons' second timeout, however, the Shamrocks had some thinking of their own to do. Would they force the last of the Dons' timeout with another run and settle for a field goal? Or would they go for the kill?
Ty was certain they'd go for the kill—Stringbean wouldn't let them do anything else. Yet knowing what they'd do next wasn't a comforting thought for anybody. The Dons' fate came down to the next couple of plays, and most players could do nothing to affect the outcome; so many anxious faces were staring at Ty.
"Why are they looking at me like that? Nobody has any faith in me after all these games?"
Could he blame them?
Ty looked at Coach Hoang, the only person who hadn't looked his way, who was most conspicuous by avoiding his gaze. Ty shook his head. He didn't need anybody, couldn't rely on anybody, it was down to him, as it always should be, so why was he looking for answers elsewhere?
When Ty hung his head, checking his laces for the fifth time during that timeout alone, Coach Hoang glanced over his shoulder. It pained him to be so helpless. Nobody liked feeling that way, but for Luke Hoang such a feeling dredged up memories of the worst time in his life.
But what else was there to do but give Ty space and hope he came up with SOMETHING. Some sort of plan, or something to motivate himself, whatever he needed to do to reach that special place of his. … Would that even save them? It hadn't helped Ty against Nate Langford or Denzel Kingston. Jeremiah Byrd's height was probably indomitable like their speed and force had been.
One person wasn't worried about disrupting Ty's focus or flow. Only one person approached him during the timeout—Bella. He turned towards her, then continued past, his gaze settling on the scoreboard.
'There's plenty of time for the offence,' she said. 'You just need to stop them now. It doesn't matter if they score a field goal, 'cause we'll get a touchdown no matter what. You could even get a pick-six. You always find a way, no matter how many obstacles you have to get through. That's what I like about you Ty. Sure, you're cold an abrasive on the outside, and sometimes you're a bit too stubborn and tunnel-visioned, but nobody's perfect, at least I know it's for a good reason—focus and persistence. You'll find a way out of this so we can get to the top, even if you have to climb over those in front of you to get there.'
Ty blinked, looking down at Bella again. 'What did you say?'
Compassion became irritation like the flick of a switch. 'Were you even listening to me?!'
But there was no time to explain; no time for an argument. The team's were called back onto the field so the game could resume. Ty shot up, hurrying out to his position, mind racing. He stood before Stringbean, staring up at the final climb. The top was so close, almost within reach, but he'd run out of handholds. That damn giant was standing on the precipice, taunting him.
Jeremiah's anger was directed to his teammates. People had floated the idea of going for a field goal in order to expend the last of the Dons' timeouts, and leave them with as little time to march downfield for a touchdown as possible. Where was the fun in that? Where was the dominance? How could they be the best team in the world if they couldn't handle a bunch of monkeys? At least Trevor knew the right play.
The two shared a look. Not all of Trevor's fears were assuaged, but he'd swallowed enough of them to keep his hands from shaking as he took the snap.
The Shamrocks shot forward, frantically racing towards the end-zone, and the Dons backpedalled, keeping up with them, sticking close.
Zayden's head whipped around, watching Jeremiah and Ty streak towards the middle of the end-zone, positioned right in the centre of the goal posts. Coach Hoang had made it clear no-one was to interfere with them. They'd just be getting in Ty's way he said. Against all of his instincts, Zayden turned away from them, making sure nobody snuck into the void they left in their wake.
Trevor lobbed the ball to the back of the end-zone, of course targeting Jeremiah. Ty was right there, and his final test was upon him. This was the moment the entire week had been leading up to. Every jump within the school gym, reaching up that wall, had been testing and preparing him for this. He'd never come close to Stringbean's peak, even with his final jump at the end of the week. It didn't matter, Ty still had to give his all, even if Stringbean had the better reach.
He backed off a few steps, getting a running start, coming in from the side. Again, Stringbean kept side on to him, bracing an arm out like a shield. Ty had looked at that shield as an obstacle to avoid, one to go around or under, when he'd needed to go over it.
Ty jumped. The shield tilted up, aiming for his chest. This time, when it pushed against him, it only pushed him up further. Stringbean jumped, though without a proper run-up, and with Ty already crowding the airspace above, there was no room for him. They reached towards the ball, both locked on the ball. Ty reached higher, reached the ball first, and reeled it to his chest.
Stringbean latched onto one of his legs, trying to hold him up, wanting to carry Ty out-of-bounds like Ty had done to him earlier, but he only had one leg. Ty righted himself, still falling, but couldn't yank his leg free.
He came down awkwardly, his left leg catching all his weight, planted within the end-zone as he tilted forward. His right foot still in Jeremiah's grasp as he tumbled over, sprawling across the painted grass.
Stringbean kept hold of Ty's leg, dragging him against the turf, forcing him out, pleading to the officials who rushed over, whistles shrieking.
It was an interception, and a touchback. Ty had saved the game. The Dons' offence had one last chance to win it all.
Stringbean erupted more forcefully than the crowd. It was a total meltdown, like a giant five-year old. How could they not have seen what Ty did as pass-interference? Maybe that argument would've worked if Stringbean himself wasn't the one trying to hold Ty down. Their duel had been physical throughout the entire game, and for the most part the officials had been lenient—that leniency continued, and he should've been thankful they didn't punish his behaviour after the play—there was no foul; the interception stood.
Ty was hoisted back to his feet. His teammates' shouts joined the wave of noise washing over him. He bathed in it, strutting from the field to the bench, met with more praise, slaps on the back, fist-bumps, and even a hug from Bella.
The Dons' offence marched to their 25-yard line. There wasn't any time to waste, with under two minutes to go and only one timeout remaining, they had a long trek ahead of them, but one they were determined to reach the end of.
They had to work quick, and to that end, the run game had to be put on the back burner. Cam bid Chris farewell on the sideline, forced to watch as his survival was left up to his brothers. Even Chris would only be a last resort, the release valve for when the pressure become too much.
Jay dropped back for the first play, scanning the field. The Shamrocks' defence was playing back, keeping everything in front of them. Even Braxton was giving Stephen more space, yet none of it was near the sidelines.
Jay's pass found Cole on a short Curl outside, who then turned to rush ahead, but the defence was upon him quickly, keeping him away from the sidelines, bringing him down after a gain of 9. The clock ticked down as the Dons hurried to the Line.
There was no time for thought or extensive plans. They all knew what they needed to do, now they just had to let instinct take over.
The Shamrocks adjusted on the next play, keeping a closer eye on Amon and Cole, the Dons' two best threats AFTER catching passes. Stephen attacked the sideline, looking for openings that didn't exist; a defender even lingered near Chris. That left Benny to make a contested catch over the middle, backing his way through the first defender, dragging them along for another couple of yards, bringing the total gain to 7.
Even with another set of downs, it was still hard work. The Shamrocks were making them earn it, and burning crucial time throughout. The Dons rushed up for the next snap, hearts pounding and chests tightening.
Stephen whipped around for a short Curl this time, but Braxton—with a desperate effort—forced him down inbounds, keeping the play to 6 yards.
It just wasn't enough. The Dons were moving, but taking too long. They wouldn't reach the end-zone like this. They had to get deeper, or to the sideline. Stephen promised both.
Jay dropped back again, Chris staying in the backfield as extra protection just in case Stephen's route needed more time.
Jay's focus had to remain elsewhere. He looked across the field, watching the other Receivers whilst keeping Stephen in the corner of his eye, not wanting to tip their hand too early. He still saw as Stephen rushed forward then lunged towards the sideline as if running an Out. When Braxton bit, Stephen cut back up, forcing the pair into a side-by-side sprint. Only when he was 25 yards downfield did Stephen diverge on his real Out sharply turning towards the sideline; the ball would meet him there.
Braxton was a step behind, but the Shamrocks knew it was all-or-nothing; there was no point holding anything back when the next minute determined your season. Braxton dove, spearing into Stephen and knocking the ball from his hands just before they crashed across the sideline.
The clock was stopped, but only because the pass was an incompletion.
Braxton lay on his back, chest heaving. He remained that way even as Stephen ran off back to the Dons' huddle, panting hard himself. It was only when Braxton's teammates reached his side did he stand with their help. He was still puffing, hands on his helmet, as they trudged back to their own huddle.
The Dons were running out of time and options, but not hope. They were resolute in their huddle, aware of the clock but ignoring the implications, ignoring how they had less than a minute to save their season.
The ball was snapped. With everyone downfield covered, Jay turned to Chris, dumping the ball off to him, as he scrambled ahead for 4 more yards, stretching the ball out as he lunged out-of-bounds, ensuring he crossed the marker and earned another set of downs.
Even with the clock stopping, the play itself ate valuable time, but the Dons were almost there, on the cusp of field-goal range; another play like that and they'd be there … though such a long kick brought with it the danger of being blocked again. They needed to be closer, close enough it was a sure thing.
If Chris could get out-of-bounds, he could bring them there, so Jay hit him again. The Shamrocks were waiting on it, and dragged him down before the sideline, keeping the gain to only 3.
They needed more time! If they could just think they could find the flaw in the Shamrocks' defence, the flaw that would lead to a Dons' victory.
At the next snap, Jay spiked the ball into the turf, sacrificing a down, but stopping the clock, giving both sides a breather. It was a worthwhile trade, as it meant the Dons had time to think, and Coach Long time to rely a more intricate plan.
It would come down to Cole and Stephen, and a choice for the Shamrocks. An inverted Dagger was the call. Either the defence would give up a shot at a touchdown with Stephen's Vertical, or a much easier field goal after Cole's deep Out slipped through underneath. If somehow both options were covered, Chris would still be available in the flat for an outlet so they at least got SOMETHING out of the third-down play.
As both teams took their positions once more, the stadium held its breath. Even the few opposing chants were sucked away into silence. It felt as if the entire game rested on this next play. Bella and the Dons' coaching staff watched on, some with hands clasped together in prayer, others with fingers crossed tight for good luck.
Jay couldn't help but smile as he prepared himself. Had his hands ever been so sweaty? Keeping them still seemed impossible. He'd just have to work through the shakes.
'Set … hike!'
The field exploded into motion. Jay wouldn't let it distract him from his purpose. The defence weren't the only ones with an important decision to make. It was up to him to read their intentions in an instant and make the right choice based upon what he saw in that snapshot. Would Cole be the open target? Or Stephen? Would he find them in time?
He watched as they ran together, several yards apart as they both dashed towards the same goal. Then Cole cut towards the sideline. Stephen had the step, and the Shamrocks were trusting Braxton to win the one-on-one. That was their mistake, that was the flaw that would be their doom. Jay stepped up to throw, and was crushed by a brick wall crumbling onto him.
Jordy hammered Jay, smashing him into the turf. The ball tumbled free, and both sides scrambled for it, Linemen diving without care for their own safety. Taking possession of that ball was the only thing standing between victory and defeat.
Gasps sucked the air from the stadium as the world waited to see who would come out of the pile with the ball. Bella fell back into her seat when the officials signalled the Dons had recovered the fumble.
Coach Long used their final timeout immediately, pausing the clock, though there was only enough time left for one more play.
But the Dons' progress had been undone, they were pushed back even further, back before half-field and in their own territory again. The only option before them was a Hail Mary, a last ditch throw into the end-zone. A play that relied more on luck than anything else; even the Tigers' luck had failed them on such a play.
Coach Long smiled as the Dons stood in a silent huddle. There was an odd mix of acceptance, hope, and sadness fighting for dominance in his expression. Amongst the other faces, apprehension, and fear ruled; some already looked defeated.
'I'm proud of you boys,' Coach Long said. He'd said it a lot, but it bared repeating because it was just so damn true. He reached out, grasping the nearest boys by the shoulders. 'I've never been more proud. Don't hang your heads. Smile. You've never let me down, and you won't start now. This isn't over; we're not beat yet.'
The Shamrocks' emerged onto the field first. All but three of their players standing in the end-zone already. Amongst those waiting for the Hail Mary stood Jeremiah. How better to ensure you secured the ball on such a desperate play, than by having the tallest player out there.
As the Dons took their positions—Chris still on the field, though lined up as a Receiver instead of standing in the backfield—the nervous energy was ten times stronger.
Coach Hoang moved over to Ty. The sideline felt as if a bomb was about to go off. The only noise was Coach Long's mumbled prayers—an actual Hail Mary or two couldn't hurt.
'You sure you don't want to be out there?' Coach Hoang asked. 'Byrd is.' It was a long shot, but the last time Ty was on the field for a Hail Mary it'd gone in their favour.
'I'm sorry,' Ty said. 'I should've done better before. If we lose this, it'll be my fault. No-one else can take any blame.'
'That's not how this works, Samuels. We win as a team, we lose as a team.'
Ty went quiet. Coach Hoang stared at him. Were those tears in his eyes, or were the lights just shining extra bright.
Jay didn't want to call for the snap. As long as he didn't, the Dons were still alive, still had hope, could still exist after this game. The moment the ball was snapped, they'd be Schrodinger's Dons. However, the play clock forced his hand.
'…Hike!'
Ty's nails dug into his palms as the Receivers stampeded towards the end-zone. Nobody tried to stop them; they all knew what it was coming to. Jay kept a wary eye on Jordy and the couple of other D-Linemen, but his O-Line slid back, keeping their foundation strong, giving him all the time he needed. Breaking through that wall for a sack on the previous play had probably taken everything out of Jordy anyhow.
When everyone converged in the end-zone, Jay stepped forward, putting his all into the throw. How embarrassing would it be if the ball didn't even reach the end-zone after all this?
It sailed high, and thankfully carried far enough, time expiring as it travelled through the air. Shamrocks and Dons alike settled under the ball, bunching together tightly. Jeremiah towered over all, even Stephen, who was sandwiched between him and Braxton. It didn't matter if there was someone taller, however, Stephen wasn't about to lose here, not to the two giant assholes either side of him.
Nobody could get a good leap with how tightly packed the crowd was, but they still tried, reaching towards the heavens. Stephen gave as good a contest as any, reaching up, swatting at the ball and Jeremiah's hands, hands which found the ball first, but were harshly smacked aside.
The ball bounced free as bodies fell back to earth, stumbling as they landed awkwardly amongst each other. Everyone pushed and pulled at whoever was nearest to them, creating a space, a vacuum for the ball to fill as it plummeted towards the ground.
Chris, having positioned himself at the front of the pack and waited, dove. The backs of his hands scraped along the rough turf as he scooped the ball from the air, protecting it, pulling it up higher, clamping it against his helmet.
Others fell atop him, the pack devolving into a messy, confused tangle. Whistles shrieked as confused gasps and cries filled the air. The officials started peeling bodies from the pile. Hands clawed at Chris's fingers, trying to rip the ball away from him. He clung to it tighter; if his face-mask wasn't in the way he would've bit it just to hold onto it.
Finally the signal came. Touchdown. Chris's world came undone.