Both teams made their ways to their respective locker rooms, and many spectators rose from their seats, rushing to get to the restrooms or vendors before the lines became too long. The general sentiment among their murmurs was the game was surprisingly one-sided, and that it was a rip-off of some kind; for most, all they'd seen of the Longhorns was how they tore through every team they faced.
Despite the huge lead, not everything was well in the Longhorns' camp. Coach Bourne watched all his players enter the locker room, then finally let the door swing closed.
'Does somebody want to tell me what the hell those last couple of drives were?' he said to the room in general.
Morrison raised a hand. 'Sorry, Coach. My throws were off.'
Coach Bourne shook his head. 'I don't want to hear that, because that doesn't explain why nobody's getting open… Lachlan! You thought today of all days was the best time to give up your first sack of the season?'
Lachlan's brow furrowed deeply. 'It wasn't like I let him past on purpose.'
'You could've fooled me.' Coach Bourne scanned the room again. 'Sebastian. What about you? I thought you wanted more touchdowns than KJ today. You need to get open to get a touchdown.'
'They're throwing two people at me every fucking time!' Sebastian snapped. 'What the hell is he doing?!' He gestured towards Kentavious.
All eyes turned to the silent boy in the corner of the room. Kentavious didn't met any gaze, seemingly didn't even notice them.
Coach Bourne frowned before asking: 'Anything you'd like to add, Kentavious? You had a few… incompletions… near the end of the half.'
'I apologise for that,' he said. 'It shouldn't happen again. Tyrese surprised me is all, but if he's finally serious, I will be, too. As long as the passes are on target, I'll catch every single one of them.' He turned to Morrison, staring through him. 'So don't be afraid.'
'See, Coach?' Morrison said, chuckling nervously. 'Nobody's beating KJ. It was just my shitty passes.'
Coach Bourne was still frowning when he turned away. 'Defence, you're doing great, just keep it up, and we'll adapt to whatever they throw at us. As for you boys.' He beckoned the offence closer, bringing Morrison, Sebastian, Lachlan, and Stu over. 'We need to put our heads together and figure out their defence. Yes, they're ranked number one, but it's time we remembered we are, too.'
To be a champion was to be always hungry, never satisfied. The Longhorns knew the game wasn't over until the final whistle was blown, and until then, it was their duty to run up the score as much as possible.
###
Again, the Dons were faced with an incredibly tall task before them during the break. When the game had been ongoing, at least there'd been the general flow of play to distract the boys from their predicament. However, now they were in the locker room, with nothing to do but think, a lot of them were realising their high school careers were only one more half away from ending… and unless something drastic changed, it'd end with their worst defeat ever.
Ty felt no such panic. He sat calmly, much like Kentavious in the opposite locker room. The air around him was cold; Coach Hoang suppressed a chill as he approached.
'Samuels,' he said softly, somehow keeping his voice steady. 'Can I count on you to keep Rice at bay?'
'I won't lose to him,' Ty whispered. The words dripped into Coach Hoang's ear like melting ice.
'Good. He's your responsibility. Stopping him is the first step of our comeback.'
Ty didn't nod. He just kept staring at the door. There was the faintest tremble in his hands as they lay upon his lap.
Coach Hoang turned away. Again, he was a failure who couldn't do anything to help his most important player. There just seemed no way to game plan against Kentavious Rice Junior, no weakness to attack. It must've been what opposing coaches felt when preparing for Ty… at least they had his lack of height to start with, even if thinking he was weak aerially was bait.
The rest of the defence needed Coach Hoang's attention. He could be of use there. He just had to figure out the adjustments the Longhorns' offence would make, and shut them down… so Ty could save them once more.
The rest of the coaches had a lot on their plate as well. Not only did Coach Long need to oversee the plans going forward, but, more importantly, he had to flip the morale around and ignite the fires within his boys once again. A task that, at best, would only result in something artificial, until the boys stepped foot on the field again. Whoever scored next, decided whether the Dons' comeback was dead or alive.
Fortunately, he had his little helper with him, to ease some of his burdens, and see things from an entirely different perspective.
Bella paced back and forth, trying to keep her jitters and nerves buried beneath the surface. She looked around the room. JJ and Donte were the only ones who wore smiles; the only ones who seemed to have some hope of a comeback. Others looked to them, borrowed their hope… yet there were some who looked past the cheery faces, and instead sought comfort in Ty's stoic focus. His grim silence was one of determination, not despair, and she saw others put their hope on him and keep their chins up to stare with him—Zayden most prominently, but even Deshaun and Stephen.
It was a strangely comforting and warming display, emphatic of how far they'd come as a team. Ty had been such an outsider in the beginning, and though he could still be… strange… they'd gotten past that. Brotherhood overcame all, and the Dons had a brotherhood that'd been forged and tested in the hottest flames of all.
Brotherhood… She turned to Cam and Chris. Rivals playing the same position, fighting for the same opportunity. They could've despised one another. Would anyone blame them for being jealous of, and keeping far away from, each other? Yet they were some of the closest of any Dons. Because they could work so well together, they were a large part why the Dons had even made it this far; without them, the Dons would've fallen last week. And they could be the saviours once more.
While the same plan could potentially work—Cam blocking for Chris—Bella had a better, if more outlandish, evolution of the strategy. She convened with Coach Norman, whispering her plan into his ear, and after hearing it, he beckoned Coach Long over, who in turn brought Cam, Chris, Jay, and even JJ into the fold once the plan had been repeated to him.
The boys stood, expectant, as they looked at the trio of coaches before them. Bella cleared her throat before saying:
'So, I've got this new formation I think we should try. It involves all of you, and all of you in the backfield. First it'd be Chris and Jay starting in a pistol formation.'
Chris gave Jay a pleading look. Jay leaned over. 'That'd be like shotgun… except you'd be behind me.'
'Correct,' Coach Long added. Though it wasn't something they'd used before, it wouldn't be too different in practice.
'The part that'll really make it work, however, are the wings,' Bella said.
'Wings?' Cam asked.
'Before the snap, you and JJ will be standing beside Jay,' Bella said. 'You'll be the wings, and you'll be the ones helping Chris fly past the defence.'
JJ laughed. 'A good visual. I like it.'
'And it'll be unpredictable,' Bella continued. 'They won't know which way the ball's going until its too late, and then no matter what we should have the man advantage with two lead blockers.'
There were nods around the small huddle. Coach Long beamed with pride. Coach Norman looked contemplative as he said: 'It'd open up some good opportunities for a Counter run. Which, I think will work really well if we run past that number 99 on the edge.'
He spoke, of course, of George Pippen, the Longhorns' OLB who had terrorised them at the start of the game.
'Just running at him in general would be good,' Coach Norman added. 'He's overeager on the blitz, and seems a lot more focused on pass-rush than run-defence.'
'Something important to keep in mind then, Coach Long said. Good work, Bella, you've given us a lot to think about, and I'm sure we can implement this into the plan going forward. We just have to make sure none of you boys get confused and run into each other.'
Jay snorted and grinned, imagining JJ and Cam tripping over one another. Coach Norman thumped him on the back, almost knocking him off his feet.
'I'm sure they'll be fine,' Coach Norman said. 'Just make sure you run into a Longhorn first.'
There were more laughs before Coach Long ushered the boys back to their lockers, telling them to rest up and prepare because it was almost time for the second half to begin.
Though before that, he had one last half-time speech to give. The last this group of boys would ever hear from him. He fought hard to keep the tears from his eyes just standing there in the middle of the room.
'Listen up, boys,' he said. 'I'll try not to make this one long.' He was the only one who laughed at his pun, even then it was a soft, restrained noise. 'This will be the last time you have to hear me ramble during half-time, so you can at least take some solace in that. But it won't be the last time I call you my family. Even after this is done, you'll still be my boys, always and forever.
'I'm proud of you. I'm sure you know that, but I hope you know I wouldn't be any more proud of you than each and every one of your families are, too. They're watching, and they support you no matter what. They'll be cheering until the end, I'm sure.
'The key is, then, to go out there and play your hardest. It's not about winning—though that's well and good—it's about putting on a performance that you yourselves can be proud of; a performance you can look back on and say: "That's the best I ever played." That's what its all about.
'Bring it in.'
He couldn't hold his tears back any longer. The boys stood, joining him in the centre of the room, as did the rest of the staff. They held their fists out in a great pile. Not trusting his voice, Coach Long gestured for JJ to take the lead.
'Family on three. One, two, three—'
'FAMILY!'
###
The Dons' parents and families all shared a large, luxurious sky box, watching the game from on high. There was plenty of comfort, both in plush chairs and sofas, as well as heating, but also from being waited on with a selection of hors d'oevres and other nibbles, and variety of drinks on offer ranging from still and sparkling water, sodas, beers, to even red and white wines.
Despite all the luxury and comfort, however, many of the onlookers were full of concern and anxiety. Winning was never guaranteed, but none of them had expected for their boys to be on the receiving end of such a blowout. Still, there were others who were just happy to see their precious babies on such a grand stage, never thinking they would've made it this far.
Another group was those who were quietly hopeful. These parents, siblings, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins were determined to cheer so hard and loud the boys would hear them all the way down on the field, and they would continue to do so until the game was well and truly over.
'What's the saying in English?' JJ's father asked. 'It's not over until the fat lady sings?'
Donte's mother poked his arm, a playful smile on her face. 'I didn't know I was supposed to start singing.'
Laughter spread from their group as Mr Jones, now quite flustered, apologised quickly and profusely.
The Samuels family was NOT laughing. Mrs Samuels kept looking around the room, fidgeting with herself. She leaned closer to Vicky, though her voice was far from a whisper as she said:
'This is so embarrassing. Especially after yesterday. You'd think he'd try to make up for how he HUMILIATED us in front of all those people, but no, now he gets an even bigger crowd and continues to shame us. To think we came all this way just to watch him get bullied by all those other boys.'
'I need another drink,' Mr Samuels grumbled. His wife sighed, throwing a hand up as she followed him.
'And how many does that make? Don't you think you've had enough? Today's gone bad enough without you making a mess of it.'
'Oh give it a god damn rest for one night, Delilah!'
'Are mama and papa mad 'cause Ty's losing?' Jason asked.
'I don't want Ty to lose!' Josh said.
Precious knelt down, a hand on the back of either twin's neck, stroking affectionately. 'Yeah. They're stressed 'cause your big brother is playing so hard and giving his all. Life can be tough sometimes, but you don't have to worry, 'cause your big brother's the best and he's definitely gonna win. Isn't that right, Megan?'
Megan stood near the glass, almost pressed against it as she held one hand braced against it. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the tunnel the Dons had disappeared within. She barely even heard Precious's plea, but she nodded in response.
'Yeah. Ty'll win,' she said. '…He always wins.'
'He fuckin' better win,' Devon muttered. He stared down at his phone, checking predictions as he leaned against the wall, chewing his fingernails as he mumbled and cursed under his breath. Never in their history had the Longhorns suffered a loss after leading by thirty.
Vicky stared at her phone, too, though she was bored out of her mind, not stressing. Ty winning would've been at least something, but even if he played bad, why couldn't one of his hot teammates have picked up the slack?
Elsewhere, in a private box of his own, Jameson Breechwood sat on a leather sofa, a haze of cigar smoke clouding above his head. A slim, redheaded woman—Mr Breechwood's assistant—sat nearby, wearing a simple, yet smart black dress. She adjusted how her glasses sat over her hazel eyes as she leaned closer to better listen to his complaints.
'—Thirty to zero? The one time I watch one of his games for this stupid team. Just when I think they're finally on the right path. He must be doing this intentionally, to piss me off and embarrass me. Hah, that'd be just like my failure of a son.'
He took another drag. More smoke puffed out with every vengeful exclamation. 'I do everything for him, you know. He wouldn't know the half of it. All the sacrifices I have to make, how many asses I've had to kiss. Does he care about all the opportunities I've given him? Does he even have enough respect to ACT gracious? Of course he doesn't. He just throws it all back in my face!
'And now he's talking about taking a gap year? It's bullshit! He's eighteen fucking years old and he still wants to act like a petulant child. After this performance, it'd take some strong convincing, and another round of GENEROUS donations to get any Division One school just to THINK of offering him a sponsorship. But if he takes a year off? Impossible.
'And where does he think the finances for this gap year are going to come from? I'm certainly not about to fund his gallivanting across the world like he's some sort of disgusting hippy backpacker, going off to god knows where, doing god knows what—probably trying to get himself killed in all likelihood.'
Natasha nodded as she reached over and refilled his champagne glass. 'You should look on the positive side of things, sir,' she said. 'Making it this far is an accomplishment in and of itself. He's a leader on the second best team in the country… besides, there's still plenty of time left, isn't there? I'm not particularly familiar with the sport myself, but if one team can score so many points in one half, why can't the other? They still might win.'
Jameson scoffed. 'Yeah right. A team like the Longhorns—a disciplined, respectable team—won't give you the chance to get back in the game after taking a fourteen-point lead, let alone thirty points. Especially not when they have someone like Kentavious's boy on their team. Now THAT'S a son a father can be proud of.'
###
As the Longhorns emerged from their locker room, Kentavious Senior stood waiting for them; waiting for one boy in particular. Kentavious Junior sighed, but stepped aside, letting the rest of his teammates trickle past down the tunnel.
Senior stood silently, waiting for the team to pass completely. Herb Morrison was the only Longhorn to look back before continuing on. Even Coach Bourne and the other staff members gave little more than a cursory glance before moving on after seeing it was Mr Rice.
'I hope you aren't taking it easy on that idiotic thug,' Senior said. 'Don't tell me you've developed a conscious, Junior. You shouldn't feel pity for someone like that. No-one is more deserving of a proper humbling.'
Except you, Junior thought. He didn't look at Senior. Mostly because he knew it would piss him off, but also because he had something more important to focus on—the subject of their conversation.
'It's not pity,' Junior said. 'He's just a lot stronger than you give him credit for.'
Senior sneered. 'He's a worm, just like everyone else on that field, and all those who have come before. Like any worm, he's deserving of nothing but being crushed. ...Hmmm. Perhaps it's YOU whom I have an incorrect perception of. If you're struggling this much, you must be a lot weaker than I thought.'
Junior glared up at Senior. Fourteen years of hatred was compacted into one look. 'Maybe you should shut up. Go get a hot dog, a beer, and find a seat in the stands to watch like any other parent. You'll see who's the strongest by the end of the game.'
'You think you can— hey! Don't you walk away from me. Junior! I'm talking to you!'
But Junior didn't stop, didn't look back. He stormed down the tunnel towards the field; towards freedom. Why had he said that? What did he care who Senior thought was strong?
Alas, the expectations of family were often the heaviest burden one could bear, and the hardest to shed.