The crowd came alive at the officials' signal for the touchdown. A resurgent swell that swallowed the Dons' own on-field celebrations as they hoisted Cameron back to his feet. He laughed, slapping the helmets that surrounded him, seeing his wide grin reflected on their faces.
'You did this!' he shouted, thumping Stephen's chest. He repeated the gesture to each Don he could lay a hand on as they came off the field.
The Cobras were … upset, yes, but anger was the prevailing emotion as they dragged their feet getting off the field. Heads swivelled, looking for someone to blame. The DBs should've done their job and not let the Dons get big catches. The LBs should've stuck to the plan and filled the middle … but really, the true culprits sat on the bench. Hate filled their faces as they stalked over, glares directed at Colby and Richaun. If it weren't for them and their argument, if they didn't let Ty get an interception, everything would be fine.
Another fight almost broke out when Richaun caught sight of one of those horrible looks. The defence and offence were swiftly separated on the Cobras' sideline.
The extra point went off without a hitch, and soon the game was tied at 14 all. After a touchback from the following kickoff, the Cobras' offence was back on the field, though the animosity between their two driving forces was still at its peak.
Positivity had flooded across the Dons, affected not just their offence, but their defence as well. Ty was leading the way, the others had to step up and not pull him back down. They had the best defensive player in the nation, so they had to be the best defence themselves. No way could they lose to second-best.
The tension between Colby and Richaun was palpable. There were many shared looks between the two, but with snarls rather than smiles. It didn't take a genius to figure out the ball wouldn't be heading Richaun's way again. Most likely not for the rest of the game.
Ty laughed in Richaun's face—the Cobra's head snapped around. 'The fuck's so funny, nigga?'
'This whole thing. This farce. I've seen a lot of QBs, seen a lot of them stop throwing the ball my way. Usually its because they're scared. I think this will be the first time it's happened because they're mad at who I'm guarding. How's it feel knowing EVERYONE blames YOU for what happened?'
'Fuck you!'
Richaun pounced. He didn't care about the snap, though it came shortly after, as did the flags and whistles. Both his hands went straight for Ty's throat, who weaved back, but Richaun still grabbed onto his collar, following him back. There was pushing, and shoving, and pulling, but no punches—they knew just how to push the boundaries. Both boys ended up on the ground, helmetless, with Richaun on top.
Officials reached them before Ty could reverse their standing, and their teammates arrived shortly after the boys were pulled apart, helping them to their feet. Richaun spat venom with his curses as he and Ty continued yelling at each other, even as the buzzing masses of Cobras and Dons edged towards opposite sides of the field. Boos came from all sides of the crowd. Whatever good will Ty might've built had been lost in an instant.
The head official took centre stage, nervous eyes still darting between each sideline. 'Th-There are multiple flags on the play. First, personal fouls on both number one of the offence, and number twenty-one of the defence. These penalties offset—'
'That's bullshit,' Ty muttered; the Dons shared his feelings. Richaun was clearly the aggressor, why was Ty being punished for defending himself?
'—however,' the official continued, 'before the snap, there is another foul. False start, number one, offence. This is a five-yard penalty, it's still first down.'
Complaints arose from the Cobras' sideline, whilst begrudging acceptance came from the Dons'. A personal foul would've pushed the Cobras back further, but at least Richaun was being punished someway, even if it was only a slap on the wrist in their eyes.
After the announcement, multiple officials went to both sidelines, one to address both sets of coaches, and another to address the two individuals involved with the scuffle. The message was the same to everyone:
'We don't want to see anything like that again. We need a good, clean game. They need to be on their best behaviour, otherwise we won't hesitate to eject them if another fight breaks out. That goes for EVERYONE.'
Ty's face could've been seen as blank, without reaction, stone-like, but his dark eyes bore holes through the official that spoke to him, and continued to do so until they walked off and the game was called to resume.
Both teams were touchy as they lined up again. The tension wasn't contained to just Colby and Richaun. It had spread across the entire field. A smothering cloud thick enough to touch, and any kind of spark could set it off like a dust explosion.
Yet there were more emotions underlying those simple anxieties. The Cobras weren't sending their dirty looks exclusively at the Dons, Richaun still received his fair share. Across the field it couldn't be more opposite. Whilst the Cobras hated Richaun's guts at the moment, an animosity that was only deepening as time went on, the Dons were fully behind Ty. Never would they hate him again. He was their brother, and he had their full support.
The next snap went off without a false start, and though Richaun was still aggressive, more intent on shoving and intimidating Ty than actually blocking or running a proper route, it never went into foul territory.
Colby handed the ball off to the RB, and while the decision surprised the Dons somewhat, they were able to recover quick enough, and brought the RB down after a gain of 4. A decent run, but given the circumstances, it wasn't good enough.
On second down, the Cobras were still in the negative with 11 yards to go for another first down, so they resorted to the air. Of course, Colby didn't even consider throwing to Richaun.
He looked deep, wanting to answer back quickly and regain control of the game. Never before had they still been tied so deep into a contest. The second half was supposed to be different, it was supposed to be the end. But the Dons were a bigger nuisance than they'd imagined.
But there were just that—a nuisance. Even the most resilient cockroach was eventually crushed under your boot heel, even if you had to grind a little longer than usual.
Lamar streaked across the field on another Post, and Colby lobbed the ball over. A perfect spiral, right on target, just like the touchdown pass. Yet unlike that play, Zayden was positioned deep instead of up with the LBs. Positioned right in the way of Lamar's path.
It was almost another interception, but the two collided, fighting for the ball, and it tumbled to the turf instead. Lamar and Zayden rolled over each other, splitting away, returning to their feet. Zayden punched the turf, upset he couldn't replicate Ty's heroics; Lamar shot a look across the field. That throw was uncharacteristic of Colby. He threw into tight, congested windows all the time, but never danger. That had been his second pass in a row that should've been picked off, and the first had. Was he the problem instead of Richaun?
Doubt was creeping through the Cobras, and a team who doubted themselves could never win.
Throughout the huddle, Colby stared at Richaun, burning his doubt away as a clash of laser hot rage met between them. Richaun was the problem.
The huddle broke away after a heavy clap, and Colby stomped over to the Line. He was getting distracted, and focusing too greatly on smashing the Dons immediately. They were strong, their defence had earned its reputation. But he was better. He just had to find the gaps again. They would be there, he just had to keep calm.
At the snap, Colby ignored the slap-fight between Ty and Richaun. They were on the verge of getting penalised; perhaps the refs didn't have the balls to follow through with their threats. How much interest would be lost once those two were thrown out? Even if they weren't involved with the ball, there was always the tension of an explosion waiting to happen.
Colby scanned the other eighty-five percent of the field, looking for any gaps large enough in the Dons' zone to be exploitable. Lamar's Slant couldn't penetrate, but it shifted the defence just enough that Dominick could slip in. Colby fired the ball over.
And again JJ slammed the window shut in his face, knocking the ball down before it could reach its target.
The Cobras—Colby—had been completely shut down and forced into a three-and-out. The ball was going back to the Dons, giving them a chance to take the lead before the fourth and final quarter began.
Colby shambled off the field. When was the last time he'd thrown so many incompletions? Perhaps his first game of middle school. Even in PeeWee he wouldn't have ever thrown enough to have this many. Add the interception on top and it was … incomprehensible. Did he NEED Richaun Howard? Impossible. He didn't need ANYONE. He was the best, the GREATEST! A future number one pick in the NFL. His star was already signed. A Hall of Fame level career was destined to be his. How was it all crumbling down? Because of Tyrese Samuels? Because of Richaun Howard? Impossible.
Richaun threw his helmet onto the bench as he stormed off the field. When it bounced back to his feet, he kicked it past the bench and off the wall separating the stands from the field. 'The fuck y'all think ya doin'?' he asked any- and everyone. 'I for sure ain't lettin' y'all ruin this shit for me. When you gonna realise you need to THROW ME THE BALL if we gonna win this shit?'
'I'm trying NOT to throw interceptions, dumbass,' Colby responded from his seat. Despair quickly turned to indignation when Richaun was around.
'You think I'm talkin' to you, nigga?'
'Who else is gonna throw YOU the ball?'
'Anybody'd be better than your sorry ass at this point. And if you ain't gonna do your job, then I'll get Coach to put in somebody who will.'
Colby rose to his feet just as Coach Swan stepped in. 'That's enough boys. Opposite ends of the bench. Don't make me say it twice.'
Richaun snarled but moved off.
'And don't threaten someone with something you have no control over, Richaun,' Coach Swan called after him. 'It's not up to you who I pull and when.'
As Colby and the Cobras spiralled further, Chris had his best return of the day, catching a short kick on his own 24, returning it back to the 40, where the Dons took over.
Trepidation pervaded the Cobras' defence as they lined up opposite the energetic and seemingly unstoppable Dons. The size difference between the two teams—a rare instance in which the Dons were the larger side—was never more apparent than in the dying minutes of the third quarter.
Heavy, bruising runs smashed through the Cobras' feeble attempts to stop them, though the Dons were in no rush as they crossed past half-field in just two runs, and watched time run down until the final break was upon them.
The Cobras were left to stew in their fear and anger; anger that was redirecting inwardly at a rapid rate. Meanwhile, the Dons were all smiles and good times. Despite the game being tied, as it had been through every quarter thus far, control was once again firmly within the Dons' hands. And Bella had just the play to turn that figurative control into REAL power.
It took her the entire break to convince her father to go along with her plan—it wasn't something in their usual playbook, nor did it match their style, yet she insisted those exact reasons were why it would work so well.
When the Dons lined up to start the final quarter at the Cobras' 46-yard line, nothing seemed amiss. Their formation was as it had been for most of the game, with JJ and Cameron out behind Jay. The Cobras were none the wiser.
At the snap, Jay turned, handed the ball over to Cameron. It was not Play-Action, as some of the Cobras feared based on their hesitation. The ball passed over to Cameron's hands, which brought the defence crashing down to stop him. But before he even crossed the Line, he turned around, and flipped the ball back to Jay. It was a Flea Flicker, and thanks to it, Cole was wide open down the far sideline.
Jay lobbed the ball over as soon as his fingers found the laces. Not only had Cole's direct man been pulled out of position, but so had the Safeties. Both were up too far, worried about needing to impact the run and keep the damage on the ground to a minimum. Still, their speed worried Jay for a moment. They closed the gap faster than he would've liked, and his heart rose ever higher towards his throat until the moment the ball dropped into Cole's hands 10 yards out from the end-zone.
A touchdown was denied as the recovering Free Safety tripped him up and downed him at the 4, but not even a minute—not even thirty seconds—into the final quarter, and the Dons were already about to secure the lead with a touchdown.
The crowd was ecstatic, but Jay could barely hear the cheers over his own heartbeat. It was like his blood was swirling through the helmet, growing louder. A rushing torrent, mixing with the roaring fans. He kept his head forward, locked on the end-zone, locked on success and glory.
Another snap, another hand-off, one that stayed with Cameron as he bulled through the Line, following JJ's blocking, pushing the larger man across the plain as they both fell into the end-zone for his third touchdown of the game.
The cheers were loud enough to break through Jay's senses. Or perhaps his hearing returned to normal when the pressure melted away. They'd retaken the lead. They'd done the hard part, and now it was up to the defence to do what they did best and protect the lead. Even if they were up by only a single point, Jay had faith in that defence.
The offence received a hero's welcome when they returned to the bench. At the forefront of their supporters was Chris, determined to keep their spirits high and let them all know their hard work was paying off. It didn't matter if he had little impact that game, his brothers were pulling through for him, and they deserved to be praised for their herculean efforts.
'You picked a hell of a time to have the best game of your life, Cam!' Even with an arm draped around the other boys shoulder, he still had to shout to be heard over the endless noise coming from the stands.
Cameron's grin could've lit up the stadium on its own. 'I'm just trying to be like you, man.'
Chris slapped his shoulder. 'Hell nah, I don't wanna hear that. Be you! You're Cameron fucking Moore! And I need more, baby.'
They laughed together, and were still laughing when the extra-point attempt sailed through the uprights, pushing the score to 21–14. The Dons had a touchdown lead. The question was—would it survive until the end of the game?
If Richaun Howard had his way, it wouldn't last one drive. He sat hunched over on the bench, burning so hot he was panting like a dog.
#20 caught the kickoff at the goal-line, and burst forward, weaving through the Dons chasing after him, slipping past them and springing out to the 35-yard line before he was finally stopped. He rolled to his feet and hurried over to the bench, hoping his energy would be contagious enough to infect at least one of his teammates.
'C'mon, man!' he shouted. 'Let's get this shit!'
'That's the spirit, Evan!' Coach Swan said, clapping loudly. 'Show some initiative out there, boys.'
Initiative. The word stuck in Richaun's mind as he stood, following the offence out instead of forcing his way to the front. Colby glared over his shoulder at Richaun, but Richaun didn't see it, or didn't react in any case.
Ty swaggered over to him, grinning. There was something different about Richaun, but he thought it was too little too late. 'One more stop,' Ty said. 'Then everyone will know you really are a shitty Receiver.'
Richaun laughed. A restrained thing, like it was for him alone. The mumbling that came after was definitely for his ears only, even if it reached Ty's as well. 'I'll show 'em. Show 'em all. I ain't shit. I'm THE shit. I'm the best. I'm the fucking GOAT.'
Ty sneered at him. 'What a fucking joke. You're already broken. You're just clinging to the last shred of hope. It's so pathetic it could make me sick!'
The ball was snapped. Ty backed off like normal, though Richaun didn't lash out at him. It shouldn't have been too surprising, that tactic hadn't been working since before half-time. What did surprise Ty, was when Richaun rushed forward only a few steps before whipping back around.
At first, it looked like it could've been a Curl, though one that short was usually only seen at the goal-line if at all. But Richaun wasn't looking for the ball, his eyes were scanning the rest of the field; the rest of the Receivers.
His eyes darted between them and Colby, and then he took off across the field. Ty was so shocked by the irregular behaviour he fell back a step. A step he couldn't afford to lose. Richaun was faster, more decisive despite his reactionary watching. He was like a predator on the chase, ready to pounce.
The ball flew from Colby's hands; Lamar had found space on a deep Curl. Some old habits just couldn't die, and it seemed Deshaun would always struggle with such a route when he was against a faster opponent.
Yet the ball never reached Lamar's hands. Colby's pass was perfect, despite his rocky game and shaken confidence, his fundamentals and mechanics were still there, drilled deep into his subconscious. Deshaun didn't deflect the pass either, nor did any Don—it wasn't even blocked at the Line. The one who ended up with the ball was none other than Richaun.
Lamar jumped back in surprise, bowling Deshaun over as Richaun flashed by. With a decisive, turf-tearing jump-cut, Richaun stopped just short of the sideline and shot upfield. Ty leapt over the wreckage of Deshaun and Lamar, giving chase. Sonny closed in as well, though Richaun froze him for a moment with a feint inside. Luckily, that slowed the Receiver enough for Ty to close the gap, and with a lunging shoe-string tackle, he brought Richaun down after a gain of 25.
Richaun bounced back to his feet, flipping around to face Ty, who sat pinned under his gaze. Ty pushed through, forcing himself up, still having to stare up at Richaun, though he was no longer doing so at the other's feet.
Ty didn't know what he was staring at. A beast for certain. But what kind he couldn't even guess. Dangerous. That's all he knew. When he was on the ground, and Richaun was staring at him, that's ALL he knew; the beast before him was dangerous, and everything had been screaming at him not to move.
Fear? He'd been paralysed by FEAR? Tyrese Samuels? Impossible.
But Richaun Howard had changed. That much was clear. Even the simpletons in the crowd could feel it. They could tell. Richaun Howard was special. And he was about to show everyone just how special he truly was.