Many horrified faces stared down at Ty, hands covering their mouths, eyes full of fear and… confusion. Confusion was the prevailing emotion. Something had happened on that last play, though most were unsure of exactly what.
The pair had been so close. Receiver and defender were almost one. Then one ascended, and the other fell. Ty fell so hard he pulled Kentavious down with him. Had they tripped? It was a clear foul… but then Ty was so slow to rise. Was he hurt? Or just frustrated? His foul had all but assured the Dons' loss.
The Dons' sideline watched closer than anyone. Ty had gone down hard, and it definitely wasn't just because he'd got tangled up with Kentavious.
An official was moving in to check on Ty, though that didn't stop his teammates from calling out to him, or nervously chattering with one another.
'Ty!'
'Hey, Ty! You good?!'
'That freshy better not be hurt,' Stephen said, hands clenched together.
'That shit didn't look good.'
Jay had risen from his seat, watching on tensely. Others were in stunned silence as well, namely Bella, even as tears filled her eyes.
Coach Long's hands hovered halfway between forming a "T" to call a timeout. His eyes were locked on Ty, unblinking. 'Tyrese, are you hurt?'
'I think he's okay,' Coach Norman said, reaching out, pulling one of Coach Long's arms away from the other. If they called timeout now, he'd have to be taken out of the game for at least a play, whether he was hurt or not… and with the Longhorns only a yard away from the end-zone, the game would be over.
Perhaps none were watching him as closely as Coach Hoang, however. 'Show me something, Samuels,' he muttered. 'Show me you're alright.'
On the opposite sideline, there was confusion, but the sympathy was lacking. 'Is he hurt, or what?'
'About time Kentavious finished that fraud.'
'He better not be fucking hurt after all this time,' Juan Sprout muttered. So much for proving you could still be undersized and make it in this sport. 'You better not fuck this up.'
'Hey, what's the hold up? If he's hurt he needs to get off the field,' Coach Bourne yelled at the nearest official.
'They're checking with him right now, sir.'
Herb Morrison was the only one who's attention
Upstairs, the families of the Dons were petrified. Their room had gone cold and quiet.
'He's alright, isn't he?'
'They wouldn't let him keep playing if he was hurt; he must be okay.'
'I would've had a heart attack if that was my little Stephen…'
'Should we say something?'
Some eyes darted towards the Samuels family. Both mother and father were frozen. Delilah's mouth moved quickly in a near-silent prayer. The twins cried loudly, even as Precious crouched down, hugging them close, whispering how Ty was going to be alright. Tears were streaking down Megan's face as well, as she kept mumbling: 'Please be alright, Ty. Please be alright.'
Similar sentiments came from the other familial skybox. Even if they were on opposite sides of the field today, these were still just children, and no parent wanted to see any of them hurt…
…Well, MOST parents. Mr Breechwood had stormed out of his private box, cursing Dominguez High for being worthless. Kentavious Senior, on the other hand, couldn't stop laughing. He couldn't have made a better ending if he'd scripted one. How better to grow his son's legend than show that all who dared challenge him would simply end up as broken as Icarus after flying too close to the sun.
On the field, however, Ty stood strong, but motionless. His left foot was planted, but carried almost no weight. The numbness was fading all too quickly, and in its place was a searing pain. Like a molten shard of glass was stabbing up through his leg from his knee to his hip. Even as it melted, the run-off dripped down to his foot, so his whole leg was on fire.
He waved off the official that came to check on him, growling that he was fine. He forced himself around, and moved to the front edge of the end-zone, taking his stance, ignoring both teams' huddles. The official looked around, the Dons' sideline was paralysed, and he got no help from his fellow crew. He left Ty alone; the show must go on, and there was no way they'd force out one of the two players everyone was there to see, especially not at a crucial moment like this.
Calm down; calm DOWN! Ty panted heavily, just standing there was a pain. Pain's temporary. Breathe, you fucking idiot. It'll go away. Just remember who you are! Images of the black hole, and the Other flashed through his head, but he shoved them back. You're Tyrese Samuels—the motherfucking GOAT! Nobody's taking you out of this game.
He turned his attention to the Dons' sideline, eyes locking on Coach Hoang, who was staring back at him, as tense as a spring, like he was going to throw himself out of his chair, all the way across the field to grab Ty. But his eyes… his eyes were so… conflicted. Confidence, care, concern, fear, desire. It was all there.
Bella was just behind him, but there was only fright and worry in her tear-filled eyes. Lowering his head, Ty ground his teeth; he'd bit through his mouth-guard. Don't look at me like that; like I'm already beaten and broken.
Then he forced a smile and looked back up at the sideline, giving a thumbs up. He was fine. Everything was fine. There was no reason to take him out of the game. He could still win this.
The game wasn't halted, and everything continued around Ty as if normal. Both teams prepared for their next play even as he remained planted shallowly within the far side of the end-zone.
All around the stadium, people commended Ty's bravery, cheering him on, thankful he was okay to continue. None of their whistles or shouts reached his ears.
Yet not every onlooker was so easily convinced. In the Woods' household, there was outrage. 'How can they keep him on the field?' Mr Woods asked, 'he's clearly hurt!'
Elizabeth rubbed her husband's back, her brow furrowing deeply. 'I know it looked bad, darling,' she said, 'but maybe he's fine? I mean, they'd know better than us because they're actually there, right? It could've just LOOKED bad.'
Tommy glanced towards Jackson, who was too focused on the screen to notice. Tommy didn't like the admiration he saw swirling just underneath the horror on Jackson's face.
He shook his head, saying: 'We should turn this off.'
'No!' Jackson said, reaching out and grabbing Tommy's arm just as he got off the couch. 'I have to watch this.'
'It's crazy! He's hurt, and he's only going to hurt himself more if he keeps playing. The fact everyone is letting this kid do this to himself should be criminal.'
'It's still his choice,' Jackson said.
Tommy grunted, pulling his hand free. 'This is ridiculous. I'm not watching this.' He stormed out of the room.
Chrissy, her hair a frizzy mess, raised her head, looking around as she fought off the sleep she only recently woke from. 'Who shouting?' she mumbled.
Elizabeath stood, scooping up her daughter. 'Your brothers are just excited over the game, sweetie, but let's get you to bed; it's well past your bed-time.'
'I wanna watch the game,' Chrissy whined.
'It's over, sweetie.'
William remained in the living room with Jackson. Father and son sat in silence, their focus soon shifting back to the TV. Perhaps Elizabeth was right. Maybe the game was already over.
###
A blizzard raged around Ty. The harsh cold whipped away any moisture in his eyes before tears could even think of forming. Yet even with such a frozen tempest, he was still burning up. The fire from his leg was cooking his whole body, and sweat poured off him.
He couldn't have moved far, even if he wanted to. Though he was already in position, even if he was alone. All Kentavious had to do was move to the opposite side of the field, and Ty wouldn't be able to follow. However, Kentavious moved towards him, leaving his own huddle early.
JJ glanced over, most Dons were looking at Ty rather than focusing on their huddle, yet when he stepped out to approach, Ty hurriedly waved him off. 'I know what I have to do!' he shouted. 'Trust me!'
It was the last words that hit JJ the hardest. Of course, he trusted Ty. Such trust had been earned over the season, week in, week out. Nobody worked harder than Ty. Nobody pushed themselves more. Nobody cared more about winning. JJ could trust him for one more play, right? Hoping what he was doing was correct, not just for the game but for Ty as well, JJ turned back to the huddle.
Still, everyone was watching Ty. He could feel their eyes, boring into him just as sharply as the fiery needles of pain all throughout his left leg. No matter how he tried to block them out, they were still there. Even focusing on Kentavious, his body screamed in agony. The world was passing him by, but it didn't matter, Ty just had to make his final stand.
I can push through the pain. One more play. Pick this off, and we win. The offence will score, and they'll go for two; pick this off, and you're the greatest champion there was.
Kentavious stood just a yard away from the end-zone, staring down at Ty. The foul on the previous play—DPI—had occurred within the end-zone, and as such, the ball was placed at the 1-yard line.
Of course, Kentavious knew something was wrong with Ty. You couldn't have such battles with someone, push each other to your limits over and over again, without being able to tell when they weren't at their fullest. He didn't know WHAT EXACTLY was wrong with him, whether it was injury or exhaustion, but the specifics didn't matter. He could've walked away to the other side of the field and forced someone else to guard him, but that wasn't right. Ty was still standing, still willing to fight, and if the way he wanted to leave this coliseum was by being carried out on his shield, Kentavious would give him exactly what he wanted. Such an end was befitting for a foe as worthy as Ty.
No matter what they say, I'll know you're the second greatest… and maybe you can surprise me one more time and beat me again.
'Don't fucking look at me like that!' Ty snapped.
The sudden outburst startled Kentavious, though it shouldn't have. Ty's rage hadn't been quelled, and his tongue remained sharp. Maybe he was getting his second wind; maybe he had enough in him for one more decisive play.
'I swear I'll rip your heart out,' Ty continued. 'I'm going to beat you, and then everyone will see I'm the best.'
Kentavious nodded. He hadn't even realised he'd been looking at Ty in such a pitying way. Ty didn't deserve that, not now. Kentavious had misjudged him. The air was still cold, and looking at Ty was still like looking into the deepest abyss you could imagine. Kentavious smiled, the Black Hole was at full force, and so must be the Supernova.
The Longhorns' huddle dispersed, flaring out in a Shotgun formation, with Stu in the backfield threatening another run or Option play. The Dons matched them, though their focus was still split half on their opponents, and half on Ty.
For the Longhorns, the plan was simple. Yet even if it was predictable, stopping it was a whole other matter. One the Dons could do little about.
While it was obvious they would target Kentavious—even if they could just run the clock out, already—there was little the Dons could do to help Ty. With how wide he and Kentavious were matched up, the Dons couldn't shift someone else over without opening too many vulnerabilities within the rest of their formation. They'd just have to trust in their star, no matter what.
Before the snap, the stadium rumbled with cheers. With Ty's valiant display, the entire crowd was behind him. The cries of "dee-fence" were a cacophonous thunder. And then the ball was snapped, and it all became so quiet, the world might've gone deaf all at once.
Kentavious burst forward, and Ty turned, trailing after him. They didn't have far to run to reach their target of the back corner, so Ty didn't have to push through much pain to get there. Kentavious jumped first, twirling gracefully towards the ball. Ty braced himself, but didn't come back up. As Kentavious soared, Ty crumpled.
The touchdown wasn't announced with a roar, but by a silence that was somehow even deeper than before. The world wasn't deaf, it was dead. Staring down at Tyrese Samuels, as he thrashed across the painted grass of the end-zone, clutching his knee. He was the only thing moving for a second that stretched into eternity.
Before the officials could even give their signal, the Dons' coaches burst onto the field. Coaches Long and Norman at the front, though Coach Hoang pushed himself with such urgency he almost fell out of his chair.
A piercing scream ripped the shocked silence asunder, and urged the men on faster. Ty's scream. A harrowing roar of so much rage, suffering, pain, and anguish. More than any child should ever know. It was a scream that would haunt Coach Long's dreams forever.