'That's exactly what we needed, Richardson!' Coach Hoang shouted, welcoming Zayden back to the sideline; the rest of the defence came with him, many hanging off him like fish. 'Exactly what I hoped for!'
Zayden's grin widened. 'I'm glad my instincts were good enough to make your plan work, Coach.'
'What kinda shit is that, anyway?' Deshaun asked. 'Instincts? Sounds like crazy talk comin' from you, Coach.'
'Watch it, Banks. You're still getting your ass handed to you last time I checked.'
'It's only 'cause he's freakishly tall. Can't a fucker like that go play basketball or something?'
'I'm right here, Dee,' Stephen said before slapping Deshaun upside the head. 'You lucky imma go embarrass this dude right now.'
'Like you been embarrassin' him before?'
'Shut your mouth.'
The exchange could've been seen as hostile by an unfamiliar observer, but both boys wore small and mischievous smiles.
'I don't know about embarrassing people, but your teammates have gifted us with a great opportunity,' Coach Long said. 'We have to make sure we repay them by cherishing it and using it well.'
He clapped Stephen on the back and thumped a few helmets, sending the offence back onto the field, a confident roar from the crowd heralding them.
The Shamrocks' defence matched them, frustrated expressions peeking out from under their helmets; they weren't used to being forced back onto the field with a cloud of failure lingering over them.
The energy between the sides couldn't be any different. Despite the scoreboard, the Dons were confident and exuberant; it helped the Dons had their best starting position of the day.
On first down, the Dons' Receivers surged from their posts and scattered across the field on various routes, offering several targets for Jay.
Not feeling the need for extra protection, even Chris had been sent out on a route, and his was the target Jay chose. The Shamrocks didn't seem surprised by the pass, and were quick to contain Chris, hemming him in against the sideline, but they were lax in their efforts, too trusting of their long limbs, too accustomed to surrender. He fought hard, ducking through an opening between two giants, scraping for every yard he could. He fell halfway to the first down marker, a solid opening play that kept the Dons' momentum.
The other Dons hurried over, helping him to his feet and back to the huddle, keeping their spirits high as they banded together, feeding off of one another's energy.
Seeing as Chris's elusiveness was giving the Shamrocks trouble, he received the ball again, this time on another run. He slanted outside on a Stretch, but then veered into a gap between Tackle and Guard, ducking low again, breaking through outstretched arms, fighting and kicking even as they grabbed his legs.
His extra efforts brought him just before the marker, a yard shy in fact. The Dons were on third down again, but they'd never been more hopeful.
As Cameron took the field, Chris was welcomed back for a deserved rest, though he was assured it'd only be short as Coach Long sung his praises. 'That's just the fighting spirit I need from you boys.'
Cameron stared wantonly at the yard lying beyond the Line. It was all they needed. To him, it may as well have been the threshold of the end-zone.
The Shamrocks saw his brazen desire, and tightened their ranks; Jordy hunkered in, nose to nose with the Center.
But it was all a ploy. Jay didn't even try Play-Action, he didn't need to, the Shamrocks already believed a run was coming, and they were already pulled out of position when Jay dropped back immediately.
Benny snuck behind the LBs, rising into the air when Jay flipped the ball over, high enough to get past the D-Line, though their shock delayed their attempts to swat the pass. Benny caught the ball above his head, and turned upfield to continue his run. Unfortunately, the Safety met him quickly, and the Shamrock was almost as big as Benny, able to wrangle him down after a 9-yard gain.
Still, the Dons had raced past half-field, and looked well on their way to the red-zone, then the end-zone.
With a fresh set of downs, Chris came back into the fold, and the Dons confused the Shamrocks again by going for Play-Action. Again the defence was drawn in too close, and though Benny provided another target over the middle, it was Cole streaking past him to the outside that drew the ball.
Jay hit him in stride, and Cole managed to pull away from his trailing defender, bending up and straightening along the sideline, it was Braid Bitch himself who lunged away from Stephen's block and knocked him out of bounds after 11 yards.
Just like that, after only a handful of plays, the Dons were knocking on the door of the end-zone.
A run from Chris—a Toss outside, and one where he knew what to expect, so he spun away from outstretched hands and into open grass—brought the Dons 6 yards closer.
With each successive success, the crowd's cheers grew louder, more emphatic. None were greater cheerleaders than those Dons on the bench, especially the defenders who so yearned to see their hard work pay off; Coach Hoang's planning, and Zayden's interception DESERVED to be rewarded.
And Stephen had his own mission. He needed payback for the way Braid Bitch taunted him and Deshaun. But even on a larger scale, the Shamrocks needed to be knocked down a peg, and who better than by someone who reached the same towering heights as them?
He stood before Braid Bitch, confidence warring with the nerves inside him. 'Hope you enjoyed beating us for all of five minutes, 'cause that's the first and last time you'll be better than us.'
'You ain't shit,' Braid Bitch responded. 'None of you are. One lucky pick, and one lucky drive doesn't change that.'
'We'll see who's lucky,' Stephen growled, settling into his stance.
The ball was snapped, and Stephen powered forward, having to fight with Braid Bitch every step of the way as they ran down the sideline, making no detours from their goal of the end-zone.
When Stephen crossed the white line and onto the black-painted grass beyond, he stopped, twisting back around, holding his ground there one foot within the end-zone. Braid Bitch was right with him, draped over him. Stephen struggled free, darting towards the sideline, and Braid Bitch followed.
There was no room for Jay to throw to, and as the play developed, his Line—as stout as it was—broke down. Jordy dug his way through, charging forward. Jay remained calm, sidestepping as Chris lunged in, taking out Jordy's legs. Stephen came towards them, leaving the end-zone, but not Braid Bitch's clutches. Still, Jay let the ball fly, however, his pass was much too deep for the oncoming Stephen to be his target.
Braid Bitch turned his head, watching the ball sail past them, and drop into the hands of Amon, who stood in the back corner of the end-zone, motionless, and alone. He caught the ball comfortably, not even leaving his feet for it. He'd snuck in behind Stephen, having had to run across from the opposite side of the field to do so, but without Braid Bitch in the way, there was no-one protecting that corner of the end-zone. It was a touchdown for the Dons, and the crowd almost came apart.
It was such a shocking play, even most of those in the stands hadn't seen Amon slip through the back of the end-zone, forgotten by the defence. Never would they have expected one of the Dons' most unsung players to open their scoring.
'Bullshit…' Braid Bitch mumbled, still having a hard time believing it himself. How could the Shamrocks have been bested by the most diminutive, uninspiring player on the field?
'Oh, brother, you should see the look on your stupid face,' Stephen said. You could hear the shit-eating grin in his voice.
Braid Bitch whipped around, bumping chests with him. 'Shut your motherfucking mouth, bitch. You're still getting clamped, nigga.'
Stephen's eyes widened. His body moved before he could think, slapping Braid Bitch's helmet off his head, shoving him back. Braid Bitch stumbled a step, then sprung forward, shoving Stephen back. The two latched onto one another, as Stephen wrangled back just enough control from his anger to keep from striking Braid Bitch.
They shoved and pulled, stumbling around together, though neither fell before officials, and even their teammates made it to them, starting the arduous task of pulling them apart.
This only frenzied the crowd further, and that frenzy hadn't diminished by the time the Dons reached their sideline in two separate groups—one escorting Stephen, the other practically carrying Amon back to the bench, where he received even more praise from those who had been stuck there.
Coach Norman sat on the bench, weak with relief. The plan had seemed risky when he drew it up, more so when he watched it play out, but it had worked.
Coach Long, on the other hand, sat with Stephen, reprimanding him for the fight he almost caused, and trying to get to the bottom of the issue, though Stephen was reluctant to say more about it other than—'He said some dumb shit and I wanted to shut him up.'
Both Stephen and Braid Bitch were penalised for their fight after the play. Offsetting personal fouls were called on them both, so the game wasn't impacted, however, the officials visited both sidelines, warning the boys and their coaches that if such behaviour continued or escalated, then they'd be thrown out of the game completely.
With the successful extra point, the game was tied at 7 all, and soon after Shannon returned the following kickoff to the 23-yard line, the first quarter came to an end.
Just like the Cobras' game, the score was level when going into the first break.
A buzz of excitement filled the stadium, building within the crowd, though drizzling down to the sidelines. The tight game, and the massive swing in momentum would've had a large part to do with all the excitement, but the fact it was bolstered by the "almost fight" was undeniable.
The Shamrocks were animated, anger and annoyance prevailing. Fingers were pointed, and blame was shifted amongst the players, whilst the coaches did their best to keep a cap on it all, and figure out the solution to the problems that had arisen in the dying minutes of the first quarter.
Somehow, though the game was only tied, and the Shamrocks had looked dominant for most of it so far, it seemed as if the Dons were in total control and held a great lead.
Coach Bean had a lot of work ahead of him to keep despair from spreading amongst his ranks. However, he hoped their next drive would put such misconceptions as the Dons being in charge to rest.
On the opposite sideline, Bella approached her dad. She'd kept quiet, waiting to make sure she hadn't taken a wrong assumption and ran with it. She was sure now. The Shamrocks had a weakness, and one they could exploit.
She steeled herself when her dad turned to her, and all the coaches' eyes—and the scrutiny that came with them—fell on her. 'I think we can tire out their two-way players,' she said, clutching her skirts to keep from wringing her hands.
'Their big DT and that Receiver, right?' Coach Norman asked.
Bella nodded in confirmation. 'Their stamina doesn't seem good already. So, if they run out of gas near the end of the game … won't that be a big advantage for us?'
'You've got great eyes, honey,' Coach Long said, beaming down at her.
It was like his smile was injecting warmth directly into her heart. She swelled with pride, smiling back up at him.
'I think we can work that into our game plan. If we have Stephen drag his defender around the field a lot on long routes, it should tire him out quicker.'
'And if we can find time to work in runs up the middle,' Coach Norman said, 'maybe even give Cameron a few carries with JJ backing him up, that should tire out their DT.'
Coach Hoang looked off into the distance, already thinking about how he could adjust the defensive formation to have Deshaun block off the underneath, forcing Braid Bitch deeper, with Sonny providing support over the top so they didn't actually give up deep passes.
Bella's grin widened. It was a good first step. Now she only had to hope her plan was actually useful when put into practice, though she'd still have to wait a while to see the fruits of such labour.
Ty sat, staring across the field, his hands trembling as he watched Stringbean, never taking his eyes off the gigantic Shamrock. Even in all the commotion as coaches and staff attended various players, hurrying back and forth as they brainstormed then relied plans to their players, his view of Stringbean was never obscured; even sitting Stringbean towered over all around him.
The rest of the Dons had picked up the slack Ty left them, and made up for his mistakes. The game was tied in spite of him. If he'd simply done his job, the Dons would be leading, not tied. It was time he stopped anchoring his team down.
Both sides were eager to get back on the field, led by Ty and Jeremiah respectively. The crowd was eager for the game to resume as well, welcoming both teams warmly, though the Dons were still clear favourites in most of their hearts, as loud chants of "dee-fence" broke out before both sides could even get into formation.
Eventually Jeremiah and Ty came face-to-face once more. The contempt both boys felt for one another had never been higher.
'You score one little touchdown and you people start acting like a bunch of animals,' Jeremiah spat. Ty's hands curled into tight fists. 'Seriously, you're celebrating like it's MLK day or something, just because you tied the game. You have no idea what you're in for.'
Ty had never met a more repugnant person in all his life. Even Father, in his deepest, darkest, drunkest moments. Even Devon, when he'd been careening towards him behind the wheel of Father's car. No, Jeremiah Byrd was the type of person to make Ty want to learn how to drive, just so he could run Jeremiah over.
'Beating you is going to be the sweetest two seconds I could ask for,' Ty said. 'But after that, all of TWO seconds, you will be NOTHING. Forgotten completely. Not even remembered as a stepping stone for bigger and better things.'
'You're not beating me, boy.'
The ball was snapped, and Ty lunged forward, even without Coach Hoang's orders to stick close he would've lunged at Stringbean. For once, his arms were too short, and he was pushed back before his spear could rip through Stringbean's throat, having taken a page from Richaun Howard's book.
Ty staggered back, but easily stuck with Jeremiah as the giant ran downfield. As quick as he was for his size, he still looked lumbering to Ty, and when he cut infield on a Post route, Ty felt no danger, sticking right on his inner hip.
Zayden followed over the top, keeping track of them, waiting, wondering if the Shamrocks would make the same mistake. They struck him as egotistical and dumb enough to do so, thinking they could overcome any unfavourable situation.
But Trevor wasn't watching Jeremiah, not any longer. His eyes drifted aside, to the sideline, where only two people ran. Amon kept up with Randy Buckland, but his head reached only the Shamrocks' chin, and there was no-one waiting in the wings to help him.
Trevor stepped into the throw, heaving the ball with all his might. Stringbean's Post route had been a bait, even Braxton's Vertical was nothing more than a distraction, keeping both Safeties occupied, whilst Randy worked the opposite sideline.
Amon leapt, giving his all, though his hands fell short of the ball, as Randy reached higher still, easily claiming the ball. Landing, Randy barely had to adjust his stride. Amon twisted, stumbling more, he lunged, throwing himself at Randy, hoping to tangle up his legs, but he was pushed aside, shrugged off easily, hardly slowing the bigger boy. His run continued, leaving Amon behind.
The Dons gave chase, though Randy had a great head start, there was still far for him to run to reach the end-zone, and the Dons were faster, if only marginally so.
Stringbean threw himself in front of Ty, preventing him from pursuing Randy, though Zayden was free. He sprinted across the field, biting hard on his mouthguard.
The yards dwindled between them, but so did they between Randy and the end-zone—25, 20, 15 … Zayden lunged, diving at him, clinging to him, wrenching on his shoulders, slipping down to his hips, still pulling desperately. But Randy continued, slowed, but not stopped. He wouldn't be felled, he kept chugging along, dragging Zayden with him, collapsing only after he crossed the goal-line.
The officials signalled the touchdown as Randy shed Zayden and scrambled back to his feet. He whooped loudly, and spiked the ball into the turf with a loud thump. It rocketed into the stands as the scoreboard ticked over to 7–13, and the Shamrocks retook their rightful lead.
Zayden watched from where he lay on the turf. Mouth agape, but saying nothing. What was there to say? He'd been tricked so easily, playing right into the Shamrocks' hands, but even then, when he'd had the chance to stop the touchdown, and give the Dons another lifeline, another opportunity to prevent a touchdown if not a score completely, he'd failed, being dragged along like a child.
Likewise, the crowd was stunned into silence, needing more time to deal with how the Shamrocks had just completely wrested control of the game back from the Dons. All in one single play, immediately after the quarter-time break. It hadn't even come from the all-reaching hands of Jeremiah Byrd, not even the talented grasp of Braid Bitch either, but their third option, Randy.
Oh yes, the Dons were stuck in shit indeed, and only then did they find it was as deep as the Shamrocks were tall.