Ty turned to the scoreboard. The quarter-time break only gave them a few minutes rest, but seeing the "17" glowing bright under the Longhorns' logo, and the fat, dull "0" beneath the Dons… the weight of it settled over him; crushed him.
He returned to the bench, and threw his helmet down. But there was no explosiveness to his rage. It was hollow, weak, muddled. The weight grew heavier as he sat down on the bench. It wasn't just the game, or the deficit. It was everything in the past forty-eight hours—the press conference, the morning after, and now, losing in front of his family. They were heavy blows alone, but add them together, and compound them with the stress of the championship game, and he'd finally been worn down. Worst of all was the thought that maybe he just wasn't good enough.
Coach Hoang rolled towards him, frowning with concern; a single helmet slam was something to be worried about rather than angry. 'You alright, Samuels?'
Ty's shoulders sagged. His head hung low, and he didn't raise it as he addressed Coach Hoang. 'I'm sorry… I just… can't.'
'It's fine. We'll—'
'It's not! Everyone came all this way, even their families came. No matter what happens it's the last game for a lot of them, but now—because I'm too fucking useless—we're going to lose, and JJ's, Deshaun's, Jay's, Stephen's, all of their final memories of the Dons is going to be us getting destroyed.'
Ty's family had only just started paying attention to him. The first game they'd come to watch, and he blew his only chance. No wonder they never cared before. You're so worthless. Not even deserving of any pity. You're just a failure.
He was sick to his stomach, and could feel the bile rising up his chest, through his throat… but he held it back. Barely.
Coach Hoang watched him, silent and cold. Seeing Ty in such a state was a disturbing sight, but he didn't let it show, instead remaining expressionless before he finally said:
'Are you done crying yet?'
Ty snarled, a familiar anger flashing. 'Do I look like I'm crying?!'
They stared at one another for what seemed a long while. A storm of emotions roiled in Ty's dark eyes, but there were no tears; there was no room for them amidst the hate, fury, shame, and most worryingly, a hopelessness never before seen in them, not even during the beatings Downey and Warren gave the Dons.
Coach Hoang scoffed. 'I don't think I've ever seen a bigger crybaby in all my days coaching.'
Ty's anger blazed brighter as his hands closed into fists, curled so tight they were shaking. His mouth dropped open but he couldn't find any fitting words; all he wanted to do was scream.
'I thought you were past all this prima donna bullshit, yet every word out of your mouth is just "me, me, ME." It's sickening. If you're gonna act like that, maybe you're better off as a Wide-Receiver than a Cornerback, or better yet, if you wanna get caught up on all this off-field bullshit that doesn't matter, you can just glue your ass to the bench, 'cause you sure as shit aren't fit to be on the field.
'…but if you're ready to leave all of THIS—' he gestured vaguely at Ty's entire person '—off the field where it belongs, and play ball, then get off your ass and go do what you do best. PLAY FOOTBALL!'
Ty slumped back in his seat. Coach Hoang's words hit him like a sledgehammer. It was like he'd been yanked out of a coma, or plucked from a bottomless, black pool just before the point of drowning. What was he doing? He was so caught up in the moment, the spotlight, the "importance," and even the finality of it all, he'd lost sight of what really mattered—the ONLY thing that mattered—the gridiron, and how he was the best to ever step foot on it.
As the quarter-time break came to a close, Ty rose from his seat and stepped forward, leading the way for the Dons as they entered the coliseum once more. He said nothing, and seemingly saw nothing but his goal as he strode right up to Kentavious, meeting him on the opposite sideline, and following him as both teams took their formations.
Back on the Dons' sideline, Bella approached Coach Hoang and put a hand on his shoulder; his body was as cool as hers.
'If you ever feel like you're not a good enough coach,' she said, 'you should slap yourself. You're a great coach; just the one Ty—and the Dons—need.'
He laughed; shaky, nervous laughter. He hadn't been so sure when he'd been talking, but thankfully he'd got the reaction he wanted. 'It's easy, really,' he said. 'When I look at Ty, I see so much of myself—except Ty actually has some talent, but I digress—so I just tell him the things I needed to hear.'
'He's lucky to have you.'
'We're the lucky ones.'
They smiled as they watched him, but a powerful shudder ran through them both. It'd gotten so cold in the stadium.
Kentavious felt that same coldness as he stood before Ty, staring down into eyes so dark they seemed endless. Something had changed within Ty. Too little, too late, he thought. Kentavious had had his shine. Now it was the rest of the Longhorns' turn.
Both teams were in position, and the second quarter got underway with another run from the Longhorns. This one was more traditional as Morrison turned and extended the ball towards the RB on a Stretch heading straight for Lachlan and Donte's edge of the Line.
Donte dug his feet in as the iron block surged towards him. He skidded back slightly, cleats holding. Upon seeing the RB with the ball, he shouted to his teammates, alerting them of the run. When the RB tried to run past, he lunged out. Shifting his weight so suddenly, he lost leverage and went tumbling back as Lachlan heaved forward. Still, Donte stretched out, and snagged the RB's jersey, pulling and tugging. His grip fell, but he latched on to a leg instead, desperate to keep a hold of the ball-carrier. He couldn't bring them down on his own, but he held them up enough as they struggled away from him, giving JJ plenty of time to swoop in and knock them off their feet, stopping their run at 2 yards, maybe 2-and-a-half.
The groaned as he dug his head back against the ground. Of course, the Dons were being slaughtered 21–0, but did that mean Stu Grady was getting anything done on the ground? Hell no.
Lachlan offered Stu a hand, and effortlessly hoisted him back to his feet. Stu was a decent size for a RB. Short, but thick, with surprisingly big hands which made him a safe option. He'd yet to fumble during his Longhorns career.
'You alright, Chicken?' Lachlan asked.
Stu sighed. 'Yeah, I'm fine.' But he saw Lachlan didn't fully buy it. Of course not. He was always fine, but never looked it, supposedly. Something about a resting long face that made him look like he was always on the verge of crying. Maybe there was a touch of irritation, but that was only because of that dumb nickname. Yes; his family raised chickens. Yes; his name sounded like chicken stew, but that didn't mean he liked the stupid birds. At least he could direct his annoyance at the Dons. Even if they were stopping his run game, he could still make it up to his teammates and have an impact.
With how close the Longhorns were to a first down, they gave Stu another chance on the ground after they reset. This time, they sent him up the middle, and he slipped through the line, but was swiftly met by JJ. But Stu pushed on, falling forward across the first-down marker, earning the Longhorns another set of downs.
Ty's hands and fingers flexed as he returned to his formation. He was growing restless, though his patience was hanging on for now. He knew the ball would come his way again. Maybe not on the next play, or even the one after, but it would, and he would be ready when it did. In the meantime, it was up to the rest of the Dons to do their job and force the ball back to Ty.
Zayden and Sonny stood furthest back, with the whole game in front of them. They were worried. It was a Safety's job to keep the game in front of them, and not let anything get past them, yet they'd both been impotent when it came to stopping Kentavious. Even with Ty's help. Would it be the same with the rest of the Longhorns?
Though none were as worried as Donte. Sure, he and the rest of the D-Line had held their own against the run—with help from JJ—but they'd still been ineffective against the pass. Yet that block of iron before him hadn't been so overpowering during the run… surely there was something he could learn from that.
However, those runs had been too close for the Longhorns' comfort. The Dons' took notice as Stu left the backfield, and spread out wide to be a fifth Receiver. At least it was telegraphing the Longhorns' plans to go back to the air, though the Dons still had to be wary of another Jet Sweep.
Perhaps Ty's moment had arrived. The ball was snapped, and Kentavious shot inside. Ty followed, shepherding him further inside. If he wanted to run through traffic, so be it, but Ty wouldn't be shaken off so easily. They flashed through the middle of the field just behind JJ and the LB's shallow zones. A moment later, Sebastian zoomed past underneath.
Deshaun was still struggling to keep up with the speedy Receiver, and with JJ hesitating for a moment when Kentavious neared, it left Sebastian open for an easy, short reception, which he immediately turned upfield, scampering across the first-down marker before Zayden met him head on and brought him down.
Deshaun cursed himself before helping Zayden up to his feet. Without the Safety, Sebastian could've gone all the way for a touchdown, and Deshaun would've been helpless to stop him. But even with the temporary assist, he still was helpless on the next play.
The Longhorns went back to the air, and kept with Sebastian as Morrison hit him on a 10-yard Out. The play was towing the line and just barely secured another first down as Sebastian dragged his feet before stepping out-of-bounds.
Each reception compounded Deshaun's frustration. Trying to keep Sebastian in front of him was like trying to catch a bird with his bare hands. He should've been a pillar of their defence. With Ty struggling, it had fallen to him to keep things steady. Yet he was no better, getting torched repeatedly as the Longhorns worked their way downfield.
It wasn't just Sebastian giving the Dons problems, all the Longhorns were. If JJ and the LBs covered Sebastian and Kentavious as they cut across the middle, then Stu could settle under them in the void they created, and catch an easy dump-off pass. With the open space from a reception, he even got to show off his elusiveness and turn those short catches into big gains.
Then if Kentavious went deep—drawing a Safety with him—the Longhorns' TE followed behind and got a catch over an out-of-position LB.
They were showing off how they didn't even need to throw to Kentavious to beat the Dons. Even if it wasn't as fast as Kentavious's drives, the Longhorns were still moving downfield, and into the red-zone. Sebastian had been their primary driving force after the runs, and it was he who drove home their fourth touchdown, blazing past Deshaun with a double-move after faking a Curl, and securing a catch in the corner of the end-zone just before Sonny could run over and make the save.
The Longhorns had scored again, and their lead continued to grow. The crowd was the quietest it had been, possibly because neither Kentavious nor Ty had been involved in the drive at all, or maybe they were just losing their lustre as the game had solidified as a blowout.
Deshaun crouched low, reaching into the gap between his helmet and face-mask to rub at his eyes. He'd been made a fool of with every play. Keep on top of his assignment shouldn't have been so hard, but he'd ended up looking like somebody who didn't deserve to be on JV let alone varsity and in the National Championship.
JJ thumped him on the back. 'Keep your head up, hermano. It's not even the end of the half. We can turn it around.'
Could they? Deshaun wondered. When was the last time they'd been down four touchdowns? It was only five minutes into the second quarter for fuck's sake, and they hadn't stopped the Longhorns ONCE. Around the field other Dons' players had their hands on their head, or were looking to the turf or the sky for answers, but none were to be found.
Ty returned to the bench, suppressing anger and annoyance. He had no right for either, not with his abysmal performance, but mainly he had no time for them. The Dons would recover, and the Longhorns would throw at Kentavious again. He'd make them pay; he could still flip the game on its head with one play.
Then, as the teams were lining up for the extra-point attempt, the Dons finally caught their first break as the ball slid off the side of the Kicker's boot and was shanked well outside the left post. Was it the grace of luck, however meaningless? Ty's palm tingled, though he paid it no mind as the scoreboard ticked over to 27–0.
Chris's return on the kickoff only reached the 20-yard line. Potentially, a bad sign for the offence, though the Dons weren't without hope. JJ followed the offence out, taking his place in the backfield as a FB.
Having JJ in the huddle always fired up those around him, that was just the kind of guy he was, and the reputation he had amongst his hermanos; if JJ was there, everything was going to be okay.
He bumped fists with Chris and said: 'Let's get this shit.'
Chris nodded, and settled into his stance. The ball was soon snapped, and handed off to him. Following JJ's lead brought him to his best run of the day as they carved outside past a shocked Pippen, and JJ neutralised Adam, opening Chris's running lanes. He almost burst into the open, but was tripped up, falling after a gain of 7 yards.
Polite applause and cheers came from the crowd, but there were enthusiastic whoops and cries from the Dons' sideline. They had their breakthrough, they just had to keep at it and grind the Longhorns down, then their defence would get back on top; the game wasn't over yet.
The Dons sent Chris up the middle on the next play, though the Longhorns were better prepared and closed around him, throwing multiple bodies JJ's way. Adam and Chris collided heavily again, right at the marker, and both went down hard, Chris forever fighting for extra territory, even if it was only another blade of grass.
Both boys were helped up by their respective teams, and the masses congregated around the officials who had come forward to spot the ball. It was right at the marker, too close to call through eye-balling it alone. The chain-gang was brought over, measuring the distance with two poles and a 10-yard length of chain between them. The ball was short by a chain-link. One more inch and the Dons would have another first down, but they'd have to go through third down to get there.
So far they'd had no success in such instances. One turnover and two punts. Fear crept into the Dons' huddle, carrying with it the belief that they'd never earn a first down against the Longhorns' defence, but JJ steadied his brothers, and reminded them there wasn't any obstacle in the world they couldn't overcome.
They repaid JJ's trust by giving him the ball on third down. Instead of Cam charging ahead—who'd come on to replace Chris momentarily—it was JJ who smashed through the line and burrowed forward, catching the Longhorns off-guard again, running through Adam, though not shaking him completely. He was tripped up afterwards, landing 4 yards clear of the marker.
The cheers from both the crowd and the sideline were louder; more encouraging. Perhaps the Dons could do it. Maybe JJ was just the injection of energy they needed. However, the Longhorns weren't about to roll over and let them comeback into the game unchallenged.
Adam pulled Pippen close during the Longhorns' huddle and said: 'Gotta pull on your chain a little, Pip. Sorry.'
'Fuck, man, really?' Pippen said, looking like a dog who'd just been told there were no more treats left.
'Just until we teach these Dons they can't run all over us.'
Chris—taking back his spot from Cam—got the call again, bursting to the outside. Pippen, for once, wasn't out-of-position because of his overeagerness to get to the QB. He rolled out in front of JJ's path, stopping him as if he'd just run into a wall. Chris was forced wider, but Adam was in hot pursuit, and no matter how wide Chris stretched, he just couldn't outrun the Longhorn. Adam finally snagged the back of Chris's jersey, careful not to latch onto his pads and commit a horse-collar foul, then wrenched down, pulling Chris to the ground for a gain of only one yard.
'Fuck!' Chris yelled, shedding some of his frustration. Cole helped him to his feet, and the two returned to the huddle, where JJ apologised for his poor blocking. But it wasn't JJ's fault; it wasn't any singular Don's fault. The Longhorns were just outworking them as a team.
However, the Dons weren't cowed after a single setback. They kept the ball on the ground for the next play, and still in Chris's hands, running away from Pippen this time. Yet Adam was still there, and the whole D-Line was better prepared for them. The run was slightly better, but still only gained 3 yards.
It seemed even after earning their only first down of the day, the Dons' offence remained impotent. With the Longhorns keying in on the run, the Dons were facing third down again, and needed 6 yards, they'd have to return to the skies. At least JJ would provide some more protection for Jay.
There were quiet chants of "dee-fence" sporadically through the crowd. Most had become disinterested after the one-sided first quarter, but of those still invested, the favour lay with the Dons; even if more people supported the Longhorns, NOBODY wanted a blow-out.
Jay calmed himself, blocking out the minimal noise as he assessed the field. Would the edge-rushers come in full force again? Or maybe they'd be put off by the previous runs. With that in mind, he made a small audible, turning back and quietly informing Chris before returning his attention to the field in front of him.
'Set…hike.'
The players exploded into motion, and Jay turned around, faking a hand-off to Chris. The Play-Action did its job, and froze Pippen who was coming hard around the edge again. The brief pause let JJ get into perfect position and block him off, though Jay knew it wouldn't hold forever; he still had to work quickly.
Chris wheeled out of the backfield and down a sideline, but was covered by the Longhorns' zone; Benny slipped into the flat under Chris's route, but Jay wasn't sure if he'd make it to the first down before being tackled—Benny wasn't the most agile guy, and these Longhorns were fast; Stephen was still covered down the other sideline, and despite the size difference, they hadn't had any success in that match-up yet; that left Cole, who streaked across the middle of the field on his In.
Cole sliced in just behind the LBs who had been dragged up because of the Play-Action. He was open, finally. Jay stepped forward, lobbing the ball over, having a little extra loop on his passes after the game against the Shamrocks last week, but the pass was still on time, if a little high. Cole gave a little hop mid-stride, hands extended. Jimmy London swooped down, slamming into his back and punching the ball free.
With veteran experience and anticipation, he'd recognised the Dons weren't going deep. It wasn't their style, especially not in a game like this one. Add the Play-Action, which was good at buying time for deep shots, but best for intermediary routes sneaking in behind a jumpy defence, and he'd had just enough warning to break down out of his high zone and turn what would've otherwise been an open reception and first down, into an incompletion.
The Dons were pushed to fourth down, and just when they might've been building some momentum, their drive was cut short, and they had to punt the ball back to the Longhorns.
As the offence came off the field, Coach Long patted each player on the back, telling them to keep their heads up. They were making progress. Few heard his words.
The punt was good, going over Sebastian's head, who left it to bounce at the 11-yard line, where it took an awkward angle and went out at the 9. But that was little solace to a team down by 27 points.
There was still one Don who was completely confident, however. Ty marched onto the field, heading straight for Kentavious again, not leaving his side. He moved with purpose, and though his eyes were as dark as ever, there was hope in them.
'You can tell something's changed, can't you?' Ty said. He saw it in the way Kentavious was looking at him. The pity was gone, and in its place the curiosity had returned. 'Your teammates have too, and it scares them. That's why they're not throwing it to you. It probably scares you too, and they can sense that. They don't trust you anymore.'
Kentavious laughed. No matter how Ty changed, or how the game went, it seemed his pointless yapping would never go away.
'Talking trash in your position is only fitting for the worst. The kind of loser who is so comfortable in defeat they feel no shame in it.'
'How many times do I have to tell you, you haven't beaten me?'
A gleam flashed through Kentavious's eyes again, and it was mirrored in Ty's. The ball was snapped, but neither boy moved; it wasn't heading towards them anyway. However wrong Ty's reasoning might've been, his conclusion was still partially correct—the Longhorns were avoiding him and Kentavious, as evidenced by Stu's 2-yard run. Another test the Dons' defence was more than ready for. At least there was one bright spot in this game for the Dons.
However, as the teams took their positions again, Stu once more left the backfield and spread out wide. The Longhorns might've been avoiding Kentavious and Ty—and not because of anything Ty accomplished, no matter what his trash-talk might lead you to believe—but that simply changed the question. It was no longer about whether Ty could stop Kentavious. Not yet. They'd have to wait for round two for that. Now it was about whether the rest of the Dons could lock the Longhorns up and force the ball back to Ty…
Or would Ty be forever stuck as just another spectator, forced to watch as his dreams of greatness bled away into nothingness.