A strange phenomena passed over the game, not just through the arena, though the atmosphere was certainly charged with … something. Still, the feeling eeked through the cameras broadcasting the footage, so even those watching elsewhere were affected.

  Despite both teams having similar results—failing to get any points with their first offensive drives—and even with the Cobras’ offence performing marginally better than the Dons’, it still felt as if the Dons were in control of the game.

  Whether you were a casual, or hardcore fan, the feeling was all the same. Somehow, momentum was with the Dons.

  Maybe it was because they were used to grinding out their victories in hard-fought battles, and were no strangers to a slow start. Conversely, the Cobras were used to blowing their foes out of the water, suddenly and definitively.

  It wasn’t even just the spectators who felt this shifting momentum; the players and staff understood better than anyone.

  ‘Hey, wake up, dude. You gotta get off the field.’

  The voice barely registered in Richaun’s mind. “Wake up?” Maybe it was all a nightmare. The gleeful noise from the crowd, the look on Tyrese’s face, the crushing weight of failure. Unfortunately, the rotten taste in his mouth was too familiar, too real; nightmares weren’t ever this bad.

  A hand on Richaun’s arm jolted him like a cattle prod. He whirled around, slapping it aside. ‘Don’t touch me! Don’t ever fuckin’ touch me.’

  ‘Alright! Jesus. Fucking relax.’

  They wore the same uniform as him, the same skin, but they weren’t the same, they wasn’t any brotherhood in scales. Richaun stalked off the field, muttering: ‘Special Teams reject.’

  Everyone knew the only people who were in those units were losers who couldn’t cut it elsewhere. Even Kickers and Punters, as vital as they were—Kickers anyway, Punters were a waste of a roster spot on Richaun’s team … usually—they only played such positions because they were too weak for a REAL position.

  It wasn’t right Richaun was taking a spot on the bench, and was welcomed with disgusted looks and half-hidden scowls. The only time he should be returning to the bench, was after a touchdown. He sat down with a heavy thud.

  If you drew straight lines from Richaun’s eyes, they would’ve pierced Ty’s skull across the field. Their expressions couldn’t be further opposites; the satisfaction Ty felt wasn’t far beneath that from a pick-six. He’d taken on the best QB in the nation, and the second best WR, and defeated them handily. Victory belonged to the Dons … if only the offence could do SOMETHING.

  Chris would have to make his difference from scrimmage—actual plays—as the punt was a decent one, if conservative. The Cobras didn’t risk a run back, nor give the Dons any chance of a favourable bounce. Instead, they gave up some yards by kicking it out of bounds at the Dons’ 21-yard line, where the offence would take over.

  Play-Action was the starter for their second drive. Despite their lack of success so far on the ground, they hoped to play with their own tendencies, and catch the Cobras off-guard that way.

  It worked, slightly, buying Jay some more time—every second the Maclin brothers weren’t ripping him to the ground was more valuable than gold—but the Cobras’ Secondary was fast enough to recover from the deception, and keep Cole in front of them; there were no openings over the top.

  Second down wasn’t much better. Another deception, this time a Draw, gave them a slight opening, but the Cobras’ recovery time was minuscule. They were on top of Chris in a second, and he’d only gone two yards from the Line of Scrimmage before he was tackled, bringing the Dons to a long third down.

  Stephen was Jay’s man on third down, the ever-reliable safety valve that had got him and the Dons out of greater pickles too many times for him to count. … not that drive.

  The Cobras were fast, yes, but their skill was almost, if not, equal to their speed. Despite Stephen’s size advantage, that alone wouldn’t be enough to give him the upper hand, even in a one-on-one contest. The back-shoulder Fade Jay tried was knocked aside at the last second, and the Dons were pushed to another fourth down.

  The game was turning into a battle of territory as once again a punting unit saw action. Time would tell which side would reach the haven and glory of the other’s end-zone first … yet at the rate they were going over those first few drives, it looked as if a field goal would be enough to secure victory.

  The Dons went all out with their punt, thumping the ball deep, though #22 caught it on his chest at the 16-yard line, and had room to work with as none of the Dons’ gunners—players whose job wasn’t to block for the punter, but to chase after the kick immediately—had yet to reach him.

  His return only added 8 yards onto their starting position, but they were welcome yards. And even that small amount was more than the Dons had earned thus far.

  Then the Cobras’ offence was marching onto the field; the Dons’ defence joined them, and the boos returned, welcoming the more deplorable sides of both teams into the game again.

  Ty met Richaun once more. A cold so absolute it burned radiated from Richaun, but Ty was unfazed, smiling, as he stood before him. Colby watched the two closest of all, though they still captured every other eye in the stadium.

  The ball was snapped, and Richaun ran right through Ty, battling his way to the outside where it turned into a race downfield. However, their race was inconsequential, as Colby had handed the ball off to the RB on a Stretch outside.

  It gained three yards; the Cobras were disappointed with the result. Whilst they had the advantage speed wise on the inverted side of the battle—their defence against the Dons’ offence—it was an even affair in the here and now.

  No matter. The Cobras returned to the air on second down, and though Colby gave Richaun a cursory glance, their duel and its outcome was not his target; he needed to know if the other Receivers could penetrate the Dons’ defences.

  The ball ended up in the hands of the TE after being threaded through the middle of the field, past bewildered LBs who didn’t know they’d left an opening. Heads whipped around and hands thrust out as the ball passed, but none could reach it except the TE.

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  Dominick Sosa, #88, was an average-looking boy. Skinny, but not overly so, still, he looked the type whose only place on a football field would be as a CB or WR, yet his strength was deceptive. He could hold his own on the Line when needed for blocking, but his speed made him a match-up nightmare for opposing teams.

  His catch over the middle earned the Cobras 11 yards, and another set of downs. More importantly, it told Colby he still had other targets, even if Tyrese Samuels continued to get the better of Richaun.

  But maybe that first drive had been … not a fluke; a test phase. Just because Tyrese Samuels had the advantage to start, didn’t mean Richaun couldn’t overcome him, didn’t mean there weren’t holes in his game to exploit.

  Colby would have to keep prodding and poking at him to find those holes. More tests needed to be run. And if the other Receivers were still capable targets, there was nothing to lose via targeting Richaun.

  Passes over the top weren’t working, nor did their shot inside, and Ty wasn’t giving enough space for a Curl to work, so they tried outside.

  Richaun fought through the press, battling his way towards the first-down marker, then hitched, freezing the route for a moment, floating through his step. Ty slowed with him, then jumped back as Richaun put his head down, exploding forward with a single step before cutting to the outside and flattening out hard.

  Colby threw the ball high; a flat dart that ripped through the air. Richaun leapt towards it, as did Ty. Hands reached out, Ty’s eclipsing Richaun’s, but neither boy touched the ball; it sailed into the crowd.

  Colby’s passes were precise. He knew just where to throw it to either keep it out of Ty’s reach entirely, or at least away from an interception, so he could only get a fingertip to it. From there, it was up to Richaun to overcome Ty and claim the ball for himself.

  There had to be an opening though, one they could force to appear if necessary. Colby would crack Ty’s defences even if he had to break Richaun in the process. The next pass was aimed at the duo as well.

  It was a quick Slant, another shot inside, but with less build-up, more snap. Colby fired the ball over after a drop-back of just a single step. The pass was almost too hot to catch, but he knew Richaun could handle such heat. Unfortunately, Ty was still in the way.

  Richaun’s violent release had earned a gap between him and Ty, but that gap was easily bridged by one of Ty’s long arms stretching around Richaun to swat the ball down.

  The Cobras were suddenly on third down. Colby didn’t care; he wouldn’t divert from the Tyrese Samuels course. Maybe a Curl could work. It might be the kind of unexpected play that confused Ty enough to wedge open a window … at least for one play. It was a worth a shot. Richaun was happy as long as the ball was coming to him.

  At the snap, Richaun nearly dragged Ty down as he pushed himself past. The two fought for every yard, and Colby was amazed neither had been called for a foul. Maybe because they were both as bad as each other, the officials saw it as cancelling each other out, so kept their flags holstered.

  Once Richaun reached the marker—Ty still stuck on his hip—he snapped back. Ty’s eyes lit up, and he lunged forward. Colby adjusted his pass in time to spike it into the turf at both boys’ feet. A Curl wouldn’t work.

  The Cobras had to punt, and part of the crowd rejoiced at their, and Richaun’s failure, whilst the other half lamented the Dons’, and Ty’s, success. Colby didn’t view it as a failure. Sure, it wasn’t the result he was hoping for, but there was something there. He felt closer to an answer.

  Richaun stomped off the field, throwing his helmet against the bench, screaming about poor passes, or Ty grabbing him—as if he himself wasn’t doing worse—and blaming anything other than himself for the repeated disasters.

  On the opposite side of the field, Ty swaggered to his seat, praise showered upon him by his teammates. It was going well, almost perfectly—if he could just get that pick it would be perfect. The score might’ve been 0–0, but the Dons were winning in Ty’s eyes because HE was winning. He was better than Richaun, of course he was. This game was only a confirmation of an already known truth.

  The difference in their size and strength was noticeable, but not insurmountable, nothing like Fale, Denzel, or Vance. Nor did Richaun have any tricks like Elliot had. At least he hadn’t shown any, and Ty suspected he was too simple to be hiding something, especially with how much he was already losing, so there was nothing to give Richaun an edge. It was just a straight up battle, a contest of skill as fair as could be in the gridiron coliseum. And when it came down to skill, Ty was unbeatable.

  Yet even if Ty was personally winning, the game itself was still tied, and it remained so after the Dons’ next drive.

  They just couldn’t break through the Cobras’ suffocating speed. Even with a well-executed Cutback, Chris could only gain 3 yards. Not even close to the desired amount on a play that could only be used once in a blue moon.

  The Receivers were even more hopeless. Nobody could get open for a catch, and Jay had to throw away as many balls as Colby was with his constant testing of Richaun and Ty, and Jay was actually TRYING.

  Thankfully, Colby was still very much in the testing phase, so the Cobras’ offence didn’t fare any better than the Dons’ during the first quarter.

  By the time the game’s first break rolled around, the score still read 0–0, and neither side had looked like scoring at all.

  Both sides had a lot to figure out during the short break, and Bella was as busy as anyone on either sideline. There was a benefit to not being an official coach, as she didn’t NEED to worry over every little thing and look for tiny adjustments during the flow of play, so she could sit back and examine the big picture. Which gave her an idea.

  She caught her dad’s attention, and made sure Cameron was in ear-shot as she said: ‘I know we worked so hard on our speed in the build-up to this game, and all the boys did great … but if it’s not working, why don’t we try overpowering them?’

  Coach Long wasn’t entirely convinced. He was sure the boys could win the battle of speed if he just gave them enough of a chance. If he found a way to give them even a slight advantage, victory could be theirs … but he didn’t have a clue on what could lead to that advantage. And it’d be wrong to say the Cobras’ defence didn’t currently have them in a chokehold. What was the harm in trying Bella’s suggestion? It couldn’t get any worse.

  ‘Are you up for that, Cameron?’ he asked.

  ‘I won’t let you down, Coach,’ Cameron responded.

  ‘Good. Maybe we can pull JJ in as well…’ The suggestion certainly gave Coach Long a lot more to think about, though he wasn’t the only Don with a lot on his mind.

  Coach Hoang could sense something was amiss with the game. Holding the Cobras scoreless through the first quarter was honestly better than he expected … yet he wasn’t happy. Ty was winning, yes, but he feared the game didn’t hinge on that match-up. The rest of the defence might be outmatched. There was a chance he could help them plug the holes they had, but the Cobras hadn’t utilised their other weapons enough for him to see what weaknesses they had.

  It was concerning, horrifying really. It felt like the Cobras, like Colby Jenkins, were toying with them. Colby wanted to beat Tyrese Samuels specifically, and he was desperate to find a way how … because he already knew the Cobras could beat the Dons, and didn’t see any challenge in that.

  “Arrogant little fucks, the lot of them. You’ll fuck up, and I’ll be right there to shove it in your faces.”

  Not an ounce of worry touched Ty. He was right where he belonged, where he knew he would be at that time in the game. Richaun hadn’t caught a single pass, and he was sure it’d stay that way for the remainder of the game.

  Unbeknownst to Ty, Colby Jenkins thought he’d found the secret opening he needed to turn the battle in Richaun’s favour. On the opposite sideline, the star senior approached his fuming, sophomore co-star.

  ‘Hey, don’t even start any bullshit,’ Colby said, preemptively cutting Richaun off. When the younger boy opened his mouth, Colby bulldozed over him. ‘I got an idea you’ll like. It’ll help you beat that little shit-stain over there.’ He pointed across the field.

  Richaun followed the finger with his eyes, and sat back, staring at Ty as Colby explained the plan to him.

  Whatever it was, the world would have to wait and see. The second quarter opened with a punt; the Cobras giving the ball back to the Dons, who had their own plans to implement. Perhaps they would be the ones to break the deadlock and score the first points of the quarter-finals.

  Cameron followed the Dons’ offence onto the field, determined to make it so.

  M.P.Seipolt