Both teams retreated to their respective locker rooms. The Tigers were disappointed they couldn't add to their lead; the Dons because they couldn't score at all.
0–13 wasn't the worst deficit at half-time, but it was worrisome nonetheless. The Dons had a lot to address during the break. JJ led the way to the locker room, disgruntlement spreading behind him.
'There's some bullshit going on out there,' Stephen said.
'Ain't that the truth,' Deshaun muttered. 'I don't know who fuckin' with us but shit ain't gonna stay the same in the second half that's for sure.'
JJ strode into the room, not going to any locker. He climbed a bench in the centre, turning to face those at the door.
'We've been in worse situations, but it's been a while since we've given such an embarrassing effort. Being on the receiving end of a shut-out is never a good feeling. We ALL need to lift, and I know we will. We can come back from this. There's plenty of time, it's just two touchdowns, one touchdown a quarter. That's all we need. I'll do my job and make sure the defence returns the favour and shuts them out in the second half.'
'Well said, Julian,' Coach Long said. 'You don't need me to tell you that was a disappointing performance,' he continued. 'The reason we expect more from you is because we know you're better than this. You have been all season, and you've come too far to go out like this.'
JJ, instead of taking his seat, quietly moved to Coach Hoang's side. Coach Long continued his, "not angry, just disappointed" speech like the experienced parent he was.
JJ leaned down to Coach Hoang and whispered: 'I'll guard their Tight End in the second half. Man-to-man.'
Coach Hoang looked up at him, not saying anything for a drawn-out moment. 'You must have a good reason for this, Jones. A better reason than why we need you patrolling the middle.'
'I know the rest of the team can protect the middle of the field. And even if I'm not focused entirely on stopping the run, they can keep it in check too.'
'I can make those adjustments, sure. Why should I?'
JJ took a breath, needing to gather and hone his explanation. 'Everyone's doing their job. From top to bottom, sideline to sideline, we're holding them down. They can lock the Tigers up, hold them all in line, if I give them the chance. Their Tight End is the one who's always there when they need to relieve the pressure. If I can take that away, I can force them into something more favourable for us.' His gaze travelled across the room and settled on Ty. 'I know he'll win.'
Coach Hoang followed his gaze. 'I'll think about it, Jones. Go sit down and get some rest.'
'Thank you, Coach.'
As JJ took a seat, Coach Hoang rolled over to Ty. 'Did you catch that, Samuels?' he asked.
'A lot of disappointment in how we've played so far,' Ty said. 'Don't worry, no one's more embarrassed than I am. But it's fine. I'll crush them in the second half.'
'That's not what I was talking about, and you know it, Samuels.'
'Hm?'
'You could hear your name whispered if you were standing next to a jet engine.'
Ty shrugged. 'You don't need to ask, but of course I'll win if it comes down to me versus Dumbo.'
'So what was that touchdown about? Don't tell me it was a fluke.'
'That guy's whole existence is a fluke,' Ty snapped.
'Hey. I need you to take this seriously, Samuels. Can you stop him or not?'
The grinding was audible to Coach Hoang, like dull steak knives scraping together. Ty's eyes were black holes, void of warmth, yet the fury was clear in their centre; silent and icy.
'As long as the ball doesn't get tipped randomly, I'll stop him. Two picks. That's how many I should've had, but someone tipped the ball when I was in the perfect position. Everything else … I've got him figured out.'
Coach Hoang chuckled. 'I can't ask the Linemen to stop blocking passes, but there is a little secret I can let you in on. Honestly, I'm surprised you don't know it already. When a pass is tipped, at the line or otherwise, pass interference stops existing.'
'What?' Ty looked at Coach Hoang as if he'd grown a second head.
'You can't get called for pass interference AFTER a forward pass has been tipped. Tackle your opponent, do some wrestling shit, whatever. As long as it's not egregious, the refs can't do anything. So stop playing nice, and crush these Tigers like you're always talking about!'
Coach Hoang moved away to focus on other aspects of the defence. A twisted grin crept across Ty's face.
On the other side of the locker room, Cole approached Coach Long. 'Can I tell you something, Coach?'
Coach Long turned to Cole with a smile, patting him on the shoulder. 'You can always tell me ANYTHING.'
Cole squirmed under the touch and gaze, feeling like a fish that had just thrown itself onto the dock. 'I uhhh… I just thought, if we were playing fast, Maybe we should play FAST fast.'
'I'd love to hear what your idea of FAST is, Cole.'
'I'm fast. Fast enough to burn their defence.'
Coach Long nodded, looking past Cole, staring at the wall. He saw a field stretch out from it, all twenty-two boys of the Dons' offence and Tigers' defence sprinkled across it. Could Cole be the thing that stopped the Tigers' net bending, and broke through completely? '…You want to be used as a deep threat?'
'Sure. At least when they aren't expecting it. Then we could like, go back to short throws, mix 'em up when they think we're going deep we go short, and when they think short we go deep. Know what I mean? Or something like that.'
Coach Long's smile grew. He thumped Cole's shoulder. 'That's a great idea. I can definitely work that into the game plan, and find a way for everyone to help you burn them deep as you said.'
Cole chuckled and rubbed the back of his head. 'Thanks, Coach.'
'But the key to winning in the second half is going to be ball security.' Coach Long looked around the room. He raised his voice, addressing the offence. 'You hear that, boys? I don't want any turnovers in the second half, not unless we're the ones forcing the Tigers into turnovers. Hold onto the ball, both hands. Hug it as tight as your mother, or little siblings. Or your girlfriends if that's easier to imagine.'
The last comment elicited several laughs throughout the room, even Coach Long chuckled before his expression suddenly hardened.
'I'm serious. Anyone who fumbles, even if we recover it, or throws an interception, can run all the way back home. Now bring it in.'
The team quickly gathered around him, fists together in the air. Their expressions matched Coach Long's for intensity. He eyed every individual in the circle, standing there in silence for almost a minute before he spoke again.
'Look at your brothers. Remember who you're fighting for. That ball is your family's lifeline. Are you going to give that up, let them take it?'
'Hell nah!' Deshaun shouted; snickers followed.
'Two touchdowns. That's all we need. Family on three. One, two, three—'
'FAMILY!'
Elliot ran the thick mahogany beads between his fingers as he knelt in a corner of the Tigers' locker room. No-one else joined him in his prayer, but neither did they disrupt it; after the initial praises, their talks and planning became quiet. Theatrics were for the field, only after the curtain was raised. Backstage was where they could find peace.
With his eyes closed, everything faded away. The heavy smell of sweat was replaced by the wooden, sweetly oiled scent of the beads; the feel of the linoleum flooring on his legs and knees, was gone, even the feel of the pads on his chest and shoulders—fabric on his skin—was overtaken by the feel of the smooth, polished wood in his hands; all sound was muted until it was just his heartbeat, breathing, and thoughts.
The Gods didn't speak to him. No, Their guidance was much more subtle—a warmth, a radiance. An unfocused mind would miss the signs, but to Elliot they were like billboards.
He had felt that guidance from the first time he held a football. Like a hand on his back, right between his shoulder blades, pushing him towards glory. If you gave yourself to Their guidance, and believed as strongly as he did, you could even see things others could not.
Trust in Them, and you would never take another wrong step in your life. You'd even know how to avoid whoever tried to stop you from attaining the glory reserved for you.
To others—some less enlightened, or perhaps thinking they were "above" such superstitions—that would be called "instinct", but Elliot knew it was more than that, TRANSCENDED that.
He hadn't always known. At first he was arrogant, ignorant. Really the two words weren't very different from one another. From a young age he knew he was special, but back then he thought it was all because of how great HE was. He didn't realise just how special he was.
He'd always be thankful that the Gods were patient with him and his arrogance. They could've easily shut off his light, abandoned him, and humbled him as quick as lightning. But They waited, and guided him towards the truth.
It was a middle school championship game. Elliot's team was punting, he was a Gunner, someone supposed to chase after the ball, stop the Returner. But They showed him. The punt would be blocked. He followed that guidance, and ran back instead of racing downfield to pursue a Returner who'd never receive the ball. The punt was blocked, recovered by the return team. But their touchdown was stopped. Elliot stopped them.
After that, the defence stood strong and protected the lead, and Elliot was a champion. All because of Their guidance. That was the moment he knew it wasn't just his intuition or instinct or whatever silly explanation you wanted to attempt to assign to it. No, it was divine intervention.
It all made sense to him then. EVERYTHING football related. It was as if his third eye had suddenly opened. How did balls take the wildest bounces at the worst time for it? How did some onside kicks work out so fortunately. Why were so many franchises seemingly cursed no matter how many different coaches, coordinators, managers, and rosters they tried? Because they WERE cursed. Literally.
The football Gods had Their favourites, and those They despised. Those who had been cast out of Their light forever. Cursed to wander blindly for all eternity in a desolate land of pitfalls and enemies.
Still, in all that time, Elliot didn't know why he was so favoured. Why he was chosen. Perhaps everyone was, and it was more up to you to choose yourself. Maybe the light was always there from the beginning, and only those who followed it remained in its warm embrace.
Whatever the case, he was eternally grateful for his bountiful blessings and all the guidance that had led him to all his glories. For years he had done everything in Their glory; They had never led him astray, and he believed They never would.
Except … Tyrese Samuels had blocked out Their light and kept him from Their embrace. A crime as heinous as removing the sun from the sky … "No. No-one has the power to do that. The football Gods are never wrong. I misinterpreted the signs. Because of HIM."
That could not be allowed to happen again. Someone like Tyrese would never see the signs, even if he drowned in Their radiant light. He was so arrogant he'd go against Their guidance intentionally. Someone like him had to be defeated so emphatically that they hit rock bottom. Only then might they see the light.
"Someone like Tyrese Samuels doesn't deserve to feel Their warmth." Even Elliot wouldn't admit to himself that he thought such a right should be reserved for him alone.
Wallace watched Elliot's little solo performance in the corner. Coach Barnum went along with Elliot's philosophy about gods and luck and guidance because Elliot was the star attraction of their show. But Wallace had never bought into the sham.
It probably wasn't a sham to Elliot, but Coach Barnum made it such with all his pageantry and how he encouraged Elliot. Wallace's philosophy was more about … calculated gambles … rather than luck. The current calculations running through his head were how to put the Dons away for good.
They were an interesting team. Scary, too. Even so, he'd thought the Tigers would've dismantled them before half-time. The Dons' offence was the tricky part. They didn't rely on a star like the Tigers did, and they were too resilient, too hopeful.
They'd contained Drake with terrifying ease. He could always rip through a team. Wallace thought his not being included in the All-American team was the biggest snub … maybe he was wrong. Maybe the Dons were just that good? But they weren't invincible.
They felt pressure, and they made mistakes, even if it felt like all that pressure did was harden them. Everyone had a breaking point, and Wallace was determined to find out what the Dons' was.
He'd need to do it fast. The shutout was important. It was about time the world recognised that the Tigers hadn't made it so far based solely on "luck". It was time for them to know that the Tigers were the best team in the nation.
The Dons and Tigers marched back out onto the field after the major break. The crowd was roaring as loud as ever. Each setback only fuelled their fire more. Ty groaned, digging in one of his ears. They were utter nuisances, all of them. And he couldn't silence them until the offence had their fun first. He hoped it'd be quick. "Soften them up for me with a quick touchdown. All in one play would be perfect."
The thought drew a smile from him as he sat on the bench. Even if it had to be Stephen getting a 75-yard touchdown, it'd be worth it to hear the crowd's hope die.
His skin prickled. A pounding heart, fuelled by an injection of adrenaline alerted him to danger. With his fight or flight kicking in, his eyes darted all around, looking for the threat, looking for who, or what, he needed to sink his teeth into. Across the field, he locked onto Elliot. Dumbo was staring at him, hunched over in his seat, appearing more like a tiger than he ever had. Ty grinned.
Both were eager to get back onto the field and continue their duel. They weren't the only ones. An anxious Cole sat, waiting for his chance to drive the offence, whereas the Tigers' defence were excited to continue their shutout. Unlike Ty and Elliot, they wouldn't have to wait long, and could continue their fight right after the kickoff.
With everyone in position, the Tigers' Kicker charged in and launched the ball towards the dome with a thumping kick; the most important half of football in Ty's life was underway.