A drive in football is the sequence of consecutive plays carried out by an offensive team from the moment it gains possession of the ball until it loses it, whether by scoring, punting, turning the ball over, or the end of the period.
Knowing this, how long does a normal drive last in elite high school?
Generally, a typical drive lasts 2 to 4 minutes. That's the standard rhythm: advance, convert a couple of third downs, and score or punt.
A quick drive lasts between 1 to 2 minutes. Even less if a very precise deep pass is completed or an explosive play breaks the coverage. These are immediate-execution drives, vertical and aggressive.
Then, a long drive is considered to be between 5 to 6 minutes. In high school, that is already quite a lot, considering quarters are shorter than in college or the NFL and the pace tends to be more dynamic. These are possessions where the team controls the ball, moves the chains, and burns clock.
And in exceptional cases, like De La Salle, you can see drives lasting 7 to 8 minutes, something that is practically their trademark: extended, physical, and disciplined possessions.
Now, what is more difficult, a quick drive or a long one?
It depends.
The quick drive has high mechanical difficulty. It requires constant quarterback precision, power in throws, accelerated rhythm, and instant decision-making. The risk is immediate: one bad read, an inaccurate pass, or a sack can end it in seconds.
On the other hand, a 5 to 6 minute long drive demands something different: patience, emotional management, and knowing when not to force a big play. It can be considered more difficult mentally, because mistakes cannot be made. Fatigue accumulates on the offensive line and receivers, and the longer the drive, the more opportunities there are for something to go wrong.
With more snaps, more reads, and more decisions, the probability of cumulative error increases.
For these reasons, the average drive is normally neither extremely fast nor excessively slow. It is intermediate. Controlled rhythm, but without forcing or putting the game to sleep.
In Andrew's case, with his extremely high mechanical precision and superior decision-making, when he decides to take the brakes off and play at maximum offensive power, he can generate extremely fast drives. In this very final, in just two quarters he had already totaled four touchdowns.
If he maintained that pace, or even lowered it slightly, he could be projected to six or seven touchdowns, as he has done on other occasions.
But that is the problem.
Maintaining that intensity is difficult. And moreover, if you score too quickly, you give the ball back to your opponent with enough time. And if the opposing offense is responding just as well, as Notre Dame was doing and your defense is not managing to stop them, constantly insisting on quick drives stops being intelligent.
Right now Andrew was doing the opposite: a long drive.
Two minutes had already come off the clock.
At Angel Stadium they began to notice it. They were still far from the scoring zone. Very far for having consumed so much time. In the first quarter, with that same span or less, they were already celebrating in the endzone.
[It looks like the Monarchs changed their tactic!] Will commented, watching them gather in a very slow huddle and advance four or five yards without hurry per down.
Dave nodded, [Exactly. Clock control had to arrive at some point. If they score too quickly, they give Notre Dame time to counterattack.]
[However…] he added without finishing the sentence, while watching the progression.
[Oh, do you have some doubts about Bruce Rollinson's strategy?] Will asked, intrigued.
Dave tilted his head slightly, [A little. Generally, the long drives Mater Dei has shown this season are around five minutes, maybe five and a half. That would still leave the Knights at least a two-minute response.]
Will looked at the clock, [And two minutes, with what they have shown today, would not be comfortable for them. Notre Dame's quick drives are not as explosive as Andrew's. They can score in two minutes, yes, but normally they are closer to three. They would be at the limit.]
[Exactly,] Dave nodded, [The problem for Mater Dei would be the epic factor. The Knights will know they have to score no matter what or they lose. Under normal conditions you would trust your defense to stop them, but it is not having its best night and the Knights have a player in the zone.]
[Rice,] Will added.
[Yes, but we are still talking about hypotheses. Mater Dei has not even scored yet. This drive is still alive,] Dave said more calmly.
Will looked at the field, where Andrew returned to the huddle without hurry, [All of this is potential scenario. What the Monarchs are missing right now is the most important thing: crossing the scoring zone and taking the lead.]
The clock kept running. The ball was still far from the endzone.
In the third minute of the drive, the Mater Dei crowd, and everyone who had come specifically to watch Andrew, understood the plan.
Each down, even if it was only four or five yards, triggered a deeper roar than the previous one. It was not the explosive shout of a touchdown. It was a conscious applause of approval.
On the other side, the Notre Dame crowd had begun the drive with confidence.
"Let them try to score quickly," was the thought.
If they did, they would have time to counterattack. And besides, there was always the possibility that the Monarchs would fail. Maintaining precision during a frantic drive was not easy.
But when the clock passed two minutes and Andrew kept advancing calmly, that confidence began to turn into discomfort.
"That's how you do it!" Haley exclaimed, standing up when Mater Dei got another first down and the chains moved again.
She clapped forcefully, almost angrily, as if she were on the field herself.
Phil raised both arms celebrating. Claire smiled in relief. Jay nodded with restrained approval, tense because of the moment in the game. Mitch sighed, wiping sweat from his forehead.
As for Cam, he was just as euphoric as Haley or even more; every gain, no matter how short, he celebrated as if it were the winning touchdown.
Gloria was the same, although louder by nature. Alex and Manny watched more calmly, but still tense because of the moment.
Even Leonard and Howard, seated a few rows behind, bumped fists celebrating the advance.
When Haley's initial euphoria settled a bit, she glanced to her left.
Her expression changed instantly.
Sydney Tucker was there.
Yes. The Tuckers had traveled from Missouri to California to witness the game. According to Jay, Claire, and Haley, not only to watch it, but also to make their presence felt. To make it clear that the Tigers were still in play for the decision.
"Why are you celebrating with so little enthusiasm?" Haley asked in an inquisitorial tone, as if accusing her of betrayal.
Sydney turned her head calmly. That calm of: I know more statistics than you, which Haley always found irritating.
"I'm thinking," she replied without raising her voice, "If Andrew finishes this drive with a touchdown, which is the most likely outcome… the Knights will have, at best, two minutes. Maybe one at worst."
"And?" Haley shot back, still not grasping the point.
Sydney looked back at the field. "That Notre Dame would have the last drive of the game."
Haley frowned even more.
"And that could be dangerous for the Monarchs," Sydney continued naturally. "If the defense doesn't stop them… it's over."
Haley stared at her for a few seconds, recalculating what she had just heard. "That's true, but two minutes is very little time for them to score a touchdown. Their quarterback isn't as good as Andrew. They don't manage offensive series that fast."
When she finished saying it, and heard herself, she felt a small sense of pride. She had responded with logic and real analysis.
Sydney looked at her again. "Good point," she conceded. "But it's a final. And in finals, extreme things happen at the least convenient moments."
"The Monarchs' defense is not having its best night. And the Knights could pull off a miracle, especially with Steve playing the way he is," she concluded.
This time Haley did not reply. Because, deep down, she knew she was right.
She looked toward Mater Dei's defensive bench, where the players watched the field with helmets on and heavy breathing.
"Damn useless idiots! Why couldn't they stop the offense even once?" she grumbled, more frustrated than truly furious.
They had been close. Very close.
Sacks that seemed decisive. Long third downs. Even nearly impossible fourth downs. And yet, it always slipped away at the last second.
If what Sydney was saying ended up happening, it would be unfair.
Very unfair. Because in statistics, in impact, in control of the game… Andrew was the best player of the final.
And yet, that guarantees nothing.
At that very moment there was a clear, long snort.
Sydney did not even have to turn to know who it was.
It was her grandfather, Merle. The sound was not directed at anyone in particular.
"They shouldn't be running such a long drive," Merle commented out loud.
For him, the ideal would have been a normal drive. Maybe something quick, but not suicidal. Three minutes, score, and trust the defense. The Knights' offense was already more physically and mentally tired. If they had to go the length of the field and absolutely had to score or they would lose, they might make more mistakes than ever.
Although giving them 1 or 2 minutes to respond was even better, the Monarchs had to execute a long drive, which is more complicated.
"Tsch," Jay clicked his tongue, not subtly at all. It was a clear: What is this guy talking about?
"Is there a problem?" Merle asked in a deep tone, turning toward him.
Jay slowly turned his head, wearing that expression of calm right before a collision.
'Oh no, here we go…' Mitchell thought, closing his eyes for a second. Cam was too absorbed in the game to notice the growing tension between the two competitive elders.
"Yes," Jay replied without hesitation. "It's the coach's strategy. Or do you have more experience than Bruce Rollinson?"
He emphasized the name.
Jay deeply respected Bruce's career. More than twenty years as head coach at Mater Dei. A lifetime devoted to high school football. If there was someone who understood how to manage a finish like this, it was him.
Merle made a face. He was already ready to fire back.
But before he could, Barb placed a firm hand on his arm.
"Not now, Merle."
And at the same time, Gloria intervened. "Jay, this is not the time for silly fights! Watch the game!"
The argument was suspended.
For now.
Mitchell let out a small sigh. 'And we'll have to endure this atmosphere at dinner…' he thought.
Victory or defeat, they would all have dinner together at the Pritchett-Tucker house that night.
The only positive thing was that the next day they had to travel to Texas for the official visit. The Tuckers would not stay the entire weekend.
Which, otherwise, would have turned into an open war between the Tuckers and the Pritchett-Dunphys.
On the field, meanwhile, the clock kept running.
The minutes slid by one after another. The possession remained in the Monarchs' hands.
When there were two minutes left in the game and Mater Dei was still advancing with downs in their favor, it was obvious to everyone that something was not quite right.
[This is not a normal long drive…] Dave commented, frowning as he watched the clock. [We're already past four minutes and forty seconds of possession, and the end zone is still far away.]
[Doesn't Pritchett-Tucker plan on giving the Knights any time to react?] Will asked incredulously.
Finally, the drive reached five minutes and a few seconds. The pace was not simply controlled, it was deliberately slow.
[This is no longer just management. It's elimination of margin,] Dave remarked.
With every second that fell away, the only disadvantage they previously had, the risk of leaving time to the opponent, began to disappear.
On the Notre Dame sideline, the frustration was evident. The entire offense was on its feet, helmets in hand, shouting toward their defense. Some slapped their teammates' helmets; others stared at the clock, unable to hide their anxiety.
'Am I not going to get back on the field?'
That question floated in their expressions.
In the stands, the blue-clad crowd had stopped shouting. Now they watched Mater Dei's offense with a mix of disbelief and growing tension.
Time kept running.
Nothing Notre Dame's defense tried seemed to be enough. They adjusted coverages. Changed alignments. But Andrew returned to the huddle calmly, gave brief instructions, pointed out formations, and: "Set… hut."
Short pass for three yards.
Next play.
Inside run: four yards.
Another first down.
5:45…
6:05…
6:45…
[Seven minutes on this drive!] Will exclaimed, almost unable to believe it. [The end zone is in sight!]
The seconds now seemed to move slower than ever.
The next snap. A short run and a whistle.
[Third down completed! The Monarchs are seven yards from the end zone and have only one last opportunity!] Will shouted, already on his feet, microphone steady in his hand.
[This is everything or nothing. Win or lose,] Dave said solemnly.
Mater Dei could attempt the field goal. But it was obvious they would not. It was useless. They would still be down by one point.
[More than seven minutes of absolute control, just to reach a single play. This is the moment. Only eighteen seconds on the clock,] Will added.
Then the stadium seemed to fall silent. Forty thousand people in silence, watching, most of them on their feet.
Haley was standing, her hands clasped in front of her chest.
Jay was also on his feet, jaw tight. The same with Merle.
Phil and Luke were motionless for the first time all night.
Howard, who had been recording reactions with his camera, lowered the device without even realizing it.
Leonard was biting his nails uncontrollably, eyes locked on the field.
Sydney was standing as well, internally surprised that her cousin had not chosen to run a standard long drive, and therefore the disadvantage she had identified did not apply in this case.
Cam and Barb held each other as they stared at the field.
Manny and Alex had also stood up and leaned slightly forward, trying to steady their nerves.
The entire stadium held its breath.
Andrew entered the huddle one last time. He gave instructions to his teammates, and they broke apart, each taking his position.
'One opportunity,' Andrew thought, bending slightly at the knees.
"Set…"
The sound of the stadium faded away.
"Hut."
The ball landed cleanly in his hands.
Will almost whispered, [The snap is clean to Pritchett-Tucker…]
Andrew faked as if he were going to hand the ball to the running back.
The defense bit.
[It's a fake!] Will called as he realized Andrew had tucked the ball against his chest and was sprinting toward the right sideline.
One yard.
Two.
Three…
His blockers threw themselves forward, creating a narrow lane.
A defender managed to break through the block.
Andrew extended his arm.
Direct stiff-arm to the helmet, and the defender lost his balance.
Two steps left. Another defender dove, trying to cut off the angle.
But Andrew knew he could not stop because of his momentum and the limited space. There was only one option left: jump.
An explosive, mostly vertical leap.
The defender passed underneath where his legs had been a second before.
Andrew landed and took a step, finally crossing into the end zone.
There was barely a second of silence, if that, then an explosion. A roar of applause, screams, and people celebrating the score.
The nearest Mater Dei players immediately threw themselves on him, hugging him, completely covering him beneath a sea of red that hid him from the crowd's view.
[Who is the best player in high school history!? Simply unbelievable!] Will shouted euphorically. [How many more feats does this guy have to accomplish to keep proving it?]
As the crowd continued celebrating the touchdown, Will looked at his partner. [Are you speechless?] he asked, half amused, half impressed by how everything had unfolded.
[Yes…] Dave replied. [I did not expect such a long and perfect drive.]
There is a reason such long drives are the trademark of certain programs that train specifically for that. Achieving it is not easy at all, especially in the context of playing a final in front of more than 40,000 people, in the fourth quarter, while trailing on the scoreboard.
After Mater Dei's last play, which consumed six seconds, the clock showed only 0:12.
The kick was successful. The clock does not run during the extra point attempt or a two-point conversion.
Mater Dei 52 – Notre Dame 49
The Monarchs' offense finally left the field.
Now it was time for the kickoff.
The special teams units from both schools came in.
Bruce did not hesitate. Squib kick. A low, driven kickoff in football designed to bounce unpredictably along the ground, generally to prevent a long return. It is mainly used at the end of games to burn time and keep the ball away from specialized returners.
The kicker struck it low and hard. The ball bounced along the turf, moving in erratic trajectories.
A Notre Dame player secured it after several awkward hops.
The clock started running.
When he was finally brought down, the clock showed 0:09.
The Knights' offense rushed onto the field.
In theory, nine seconds were not impossible. Ironically or not, the year before, in this very same competition, with the same amount of time, Andrew had managed a nine-second drive with an aerial pass of more than 76 yards.
But clearly the context was not the same, nor was the opposing quarterback anything like Andrew.
There was pressure, and in front of them, a red defense that knew it could not afford one more mistake.
The final play of the game was an incomplete pass. When the ball hit the turf, the clock read zero.
Whistle. End of the game.
[Mater Dei champions of the Southern Section 2011–2012 season! Second consecutive year repeating the title!] Will exclaimed as Mater Dei's players stormed the field, helmets raised in the air.
Andrew wore a faint smile while the stadium exploded around him.
He did not run or jump like the others. He simply walked onto the field with a smile of contained happiness.
His teammates high-fived him hard, grabbing him by the shoulders as they ran past.
"Champions, baby!"
"That drive was insane!"
Andrew responded with smiles, pats on the back, and small nods.
As for the staff, they were more composed. Rick grabbed him by the helmet and gave him a firm squeeze. "Great job, animal!" he said, laughing loudly before going off to celebrate with the others.
Bruce approached afterward. He did not say much. He never did in moments like this.
He hugged him tightly and gave him several pats on the shoulder. "Well done, son."
Andrew exchanged a few words with Bruce and then continued walking across the field.
On the other side, Notre Dame's defense remained scattered. Some players were still standing in the exact same spot where the last play had ended, staring at the scoreboard as if still expecting it to change. Others walked slowly toward the bench, heads down, helmets in hand.
But Andrew was heading toward one player in particular, Steve, who stood motionless, looking at the ground.
Will noticed the movement from the booth. [Wait a moment, Pritchett isn't celebrating with the rest…]
At his comment, the camera shifted to Andrew.
He finally reached Steve. He placed a hand on his shoulder so he would notice him and look up. Steve took a second, but he did. Andrew said a few words that could not be heard from the broadcast.
Then came a firm fist bump and a brief hug. Nothing exaggerated.
[There you have it…] Will said, lowering his tone, though still emotional. [The two best players of this final. Teammates since Palisades and friends since childhood.]
Dave nodded. [They gave everything against each other tonight. And that's football. Someone always has to lose.]
There was a brief pause as the camera stayed on them.
[Nice gesture from Pritchett. This is also part of greatness,] Dave added.
Will picked up again, now with his characteristic enthusiasm. [And to think that one university is going to end up with both of them… what a combo! A generational quarterback and a top-ten wide receiver in his class who understands him better than anyone. The program that signs them will be celebrating as much as Mater Dei is tonight.]
As they spoke, the award ceremony began to be set up at midfield. The portable stage, the microphones, and the trophy shining under the lights of Angel Stadium.
-------------------------------------------------
You can read 15 chapters in advance on my patreon.
Link: https://[email protected]/Nathe07