Zayden and Deshaun let the ball fall to the wayside, embracing one another, laughing. Those on the sideline streamed onto the field to join the celebrations. Around the joyous pockets, Tigers peeled away, looking abandoned and confused.
Elliot slumped to his knees, staring vacantly. They truly were abandoned. Why? After all the hard work. Had they—had HE—relied to heavily on Them?
He didn't have the answers, didn't even know which direction to begin his search for such revelations. He was falling deeper into an unending pit of darkness … a hand reached out to pull him from it.
The abyss vanished, and the stadium came back into focus. Amidst all the noise, JJ stood before Elliot, offering that hand. Elliot took it, and was pulled to his feet.
'Good game,' JJ said. 'I'm sorry it had to be one of us.' His grip was strong, reassuring, and helped anchor Elliot back in reality.
Elliot limply shook JJ's hands, still getting back to grips with himself. 'Uh … yeah. Good game.'
'Que Dios te acompañe,' JJ said, patting Elliot on the back before moving past him and joining the celebrations.
Elliot's brow furrowed. He watched JJ walk away. He didn't comprehend the full saying, but the message carried warmth with it, and he fixated on one word in particular—Dios; God. He had been relying too much on Them. Just because Ty was ignorant of Their light, doesn't mean the rest of the Dons were. He thought he was chosen … he needed to re-evaluate a lot throughout the off-season.
Ty stood in the middle of the end-zone, having claimed the ball Zayden and Deshaun forgot. The Dons were another step closer to greatness; another chapter in their story had been recorded. He'd battled luck itself and won. He smiled. Who could stop them now?
'Tyrese!' A voice called to him through the noise. 'Do you have a moment?'
Turning, he came face-to-face with Julia Skye and another ANB camera. 'We'd like to get your words after such an exhilarating game,' she said, shoving a microphone in his face.
He stared into the camera's large black eye. Did he look victorious? Or were the efforts of his battle clear on his face. Did he look as tired as he felt? 'Sure,' he said. 'What words do you want?'
'Well first, congratulations. How's it feel to have your pre-game talk vindicated?'
'That was vindicated the moment I said it. Anyone with eyes and ears knew it was the truth.'
Julia suppressed a scoff, sending a smirk the camera's way. That smile appeared a lot sweeter when she turned back to Ty. 'You weren't worried when the game came down to the final play?'
'Not at all. A win's a win. The closer one's are sweeter. These Tigers thought they were forged in fire. Today they melted when faced with real heat. We win when it matters, no matter how tough things get. We don't fall apart at the first sign of adversity because we've never been challenged before.'
He thought it a clear enough, but still under the surface, message. He pulled his gaze away from the camera, looking around the stands. People were swarming towards the exits in a rapid but polite manner. Polite to themselves at least, some still sent a few boos towards the Dons on their way. Ty didn't spot Kentavious amongst the crowd.
'Do you think South Miami can handle the heat, as you put it?' Julia asked, pulling his attention back to the interview.
'Huh?' The Cobras. That's right. Whoever won the game was moving into the top eight, facing South Miami in the quarter-finals—the team ranked top two in all of high school. Yet a team who were yet to be tested at all on the national level.
'Maybe you've got a message specifically for Richaun Howard. Is there some bad blood between you two after your altercation on New Year's Eve?'
'Bad blood? I don't care about a two bit Receiver. He's ranked number two, and so is the whole team. To me that doesn't mean anything except he's shit. When you're number one, you don't have time to worry about shit.'
'Harsh words,' Julia said, grinning. 'But if I recall, Elliot Wall was only ranked third out of all Wide Receivers, yet you seemed to struggle with him. Wouldn't—'
'I didn't struggle. I broke his spirit. The Tigers had never lost a one-score game for the whole season. They overcame every challenge thrown at them, had been tested week in, week out. And we took them to a place so deep the pressure was too much for even them. Let me repeat myself, so everyone can understand me loud and clear. I don't give a fuck about a pampered, lazy, propped-up piece of shit who's been sitting on his ass doing nothing since last year.'
Ty walked off without another word. Julia shivered. The kid might be a ridiculously out of touch prick … but he was must-see TV on and off the field.
Coach Long passed Ty, scowling at him instead of congratulating him before storming past. Ty looked back, frowning. After his antics before the game, it was no surprise Coach Long was pissed to see him in front of a camera again.
After Coach Long saw the news crew off, telling them to "let the kids be kids", the teams lined up, shaking hands with one another.
It was an uneventful ceremony for the most part. There were some sullen faces in the Tigers' line, but they all shook hands without any problems. Nobody on the Dons poked at any sore spots, though not every smile was void of gloating. Then Ty and Elliot came together.
Ty's grin was positively shit-eating. Elliot hesitated before taking his hand, but shook it firmly. 'You were the better player today,' Elliot said, leaning close, 'but we'll meet again.'
Ty tightened his grip, grin turning five percent more snarl. 'I look forward to beating you again. But if you ever close your eyes while playing against me, I will embarrass you much worse than I did today.'
Elliot didn't pull away. He stared into Ty's eyes. 'Don't worry. I see you, Tyrese. I see you.'
Just as onlookers were starting to worry about the pair, though before they could move in, Ty and Elliot released one another, finally moving on. Ty glanced back as they continued on their separate ways. Elliot had more of a backbone after all. No matter, he'd crush him completely the next time they faced.
Both sides headed for their locker rooms—the Dons, jubilant and smiling in the face of victory, already ramping up for renewed celebrations; the Tigers, stoic but holding their heads high in the face of defeat.
As music blared from the Dons' locker room, and the boys worked off their collective second wind—third or even fourth wind was more accurate for most—Coach Long pulled Ty aside. 'We need to talk, Tyrese,' he said.
'I'm listening, Coach.'
'You need to stop talking with those people. I don't want you in front of a camera anymore. It's not good for you, and it's not important. You should be focusing on the game.'
Ty was quiet for a few moments, mulling the order over.
'You've got a lot to say about that?' Coach Long asked.
Ty had a lot of thoughts about it, that was for sure. Did they all need to be said? No. He'd said enough in front of the camera. His actions would speak loud enough for him from that point on. He shook his head. 'No, Coach. You're the man. If you say no interviews, I won't utter another word into a microphone.'
Coach Long thumped his shoulder. 'You're a good kid, Tyrese. Remember that. I know it might feel nice getting in front of a camera, and getting some time in the spotlight, but always remember your actions mean so much more than your words.'
Ty nodded. Coach Long let him join the celebrations, though Ty went straight to his locker, sitting before it, unwinding from the game. Coach Hoang was waiting for him.
'You really like pushing it with him, don't you, Samuels?'
'Not at all, Coach. Don't you know, you're the one I enjoy getting a rise out of.'
'I'm surprised you can still run your mouth after that game.'
Ty shrugged, smirking. 'I can do this all day.'
Coach Hoang lost the fight to contain his smile.
The post-game talk was short and sweet—Coach Long wanted to get to the bus and back to the hotel as much as anyone—but there was still a nice moment where the game ball was handed out to Cole for his effort helping the offence.
'You stepped up big time in the second half, Cole. Everyone did, but you led the way for that comeback. I knew you boys could do it. Thirteen-nothing at halftime, and it finished up twenty-twenty-four. I'm proud of that fight. You can do anything as long as you never give up. Now let's go get some pizza!'
The cheers for such an announcement were much more muted than Coach Long expected them to be. Though the boys soon packed back into the team bus, and eventually found their way to their hotel rooms with the customary celebratory pizza.
Ty sat on the floor, back against the frame of his single bed, lazily munching on a slice of pepperoni pizza. The day had been hard fought and hard won; he deserved some rest. It's not like he would've got much done in the gym anyway.
He'd been full of energy during the game, he'd even been gliding on the aftereffects of adrenaline, but as soon as they stepped foot in the hotel he crashed.
Still, maybe he should pop his head into the gym; Kentavious could be there.
Then what? Sure, they could have another chat. Ty could gauge how the boy felt. Throw some mental jabs at him. He could see how Junior was preparing for his own upcoming game next weekend.
But he couldn't go into the gym and not workout. If Kentavious was there, he wouldn't be able to back down from another challenge, that'd be cowardly. It wasn't the right time. The playing field was even more skewed than their previous encounter the week before. He could challenge him another time.
So Ty stayed put in his room, getting an early night's sleep; his teammates, whilst rowdy, were still much better bunk mates than his brothers back home.
It was an early start for everyone on the team in the morning. Coach Long was always one to not waste daylight; you'd think he didn't even know what "sleeping in" was. The rest of the Dons followed suit—even if most would've preferred staying in bed for another hour or three. By the time the Dons were on the bus and on their way home, the sun had been up for less than an hour.
The trip at least provided a good time for those who needed it to catch a few more Z's. Bella was one of them. Shortly after they were on the highway back to Cali, she was drooling against Ty's shoulder.
Ty didn't mind. It'd be unnecessarily rude to shrug her off, and he was eventually numb to the weight on his arm. The stain on his sleeve would be out after a single wash.
His thoughts drifted, swirling around the game and how its events might've rippled out. More and more people must've been watching as football reached its peak for the season. How many in his family did that include? Maybe Father. Certainly Meg. He didn't have many hopes for anyone else.
But they weren't the only ones whose viewership interested Ty. He already knew Kentavious was an avid admirer of his game, but what of his other opponents? What of Richaun Howard? The number two WR with a chip on his shoulder.
"I bet he's watching. Watching, studying, cowering."
He could see it, Richaun and all the Cobras studying every Dons game extensively, looking for weaknesses—a hope of victory—finding none.
"Watch and learn, you ugly motherfucker. This is what the number one looks like. You'll get the best seat in the house to my next showcase."
The next game couldn't come fast enough. The Tigers, Elliot, even someone like Kentavious and the future of the national championship vanished to the back of Ty's mind. It was all about Richaun and the South Miami Cobras. He couldn't wait to stomp them into dust.