The Titans had done all that they could to ready themselves for the championship game. Jackson was sure they'd reached the bottommost pit of Coach Otsen's green hell, and it took all he had just to keep up. Even then, it was a struggle. If Jasmine hadn't been cheering him on from the sideline that day, he would've fallen behind the pack long ago.
The drinks break was like finding an oasis in the desert and it turning out to be real instead of a mirage. Jackson slammed onto the bench, puffing hard as he hunched over.
Jasmine held out his drink bottle for him. 'Thanks,' he said breathlessly as he took it.
'We should've brought a towel,' she said with a giggle.
Jackson watched a drop of sweat fall from his nose. He sat back and gulped from his water bottle. Jasmine drew some looks as she sat with Jackson, which inevitably meant people were watching Jackson too. He frowned around the bottle, but then movement on the field caught his eye.
Coach Otsen was still out there, along with the O-Line and even Shane. There was no break for them, as Coach was still pushing them through their blocking drills.
Coach Knight was there too, pushing against the boys, trying to knock them over as they desperately stood their ground.
Jasmine noticed Jackson's gaze. Sitting beside him, she asked: 'Are they in trouble? Why are they working so hard?'
Jackson's brow furrowed as he frowned harder. It was strange, and unfortunately, he didn't have an answer for her. 'I don't know.'
Mickey slid into the seat beside Jasmine and said: 'Coach reckons they're the key to winning the championship.'
She and Jackson turned to him. 'How's that?' she asked.
'Well, the team we're facing, the Eagles, they've got the best pass rush in the state. That's how they overwhelm teams and dominate through their defence. Winning will come down to if we can protect Wesley or not.'
Wesley—several seats away—scoffed, though turned away, trying to act like he hadn't been listening.
The Desert Christian Eagles. They'd sounded formidable from what little Jackson had heard about them. They'd knocked off the previous champs in the semifinals.
'So whoever wants to win will have to win the war of the trenches,' Jackson said.
'Bingo. … Thinking about it,' Mickey said, sighing, 'I should get back out there and work on my blocking too.'
'Good luck!' Jasmine said.
As Mickey stood, he flashed her a grin before turning back to the field and joining the others.
Jackson kept a close eye on those still training during the break. Coaches Knight and Otsen even teamed up to go against the boys two-on-one after a certain point. Like a handicap sumo match, they bowled over everyone, then shouted at them to get back up. Even Shane wasn't a match for them. Not until he avoided the confrontation and laid out at their feet, tripping them up instead of trying to overpower them.
'With how hard they're training, there's no way they'll lose,' Jasmine said.
Jackson wished it was that simple, but even if they didn't win simply because they trained harder than anyone else, he could only envision the Titans losing in his nightmares.
'Of course they'll win,' a grating, smug voice said. Grant's voice. He planted himself in the vacant seat on the other side of Jasmine. 'I'll carry them to victory, so you don't have to worry about a thing, babe. Though, when we win, maybe you can give me a thank you kiss.'
She met his repulsive, slimy grin with an overly sweet smile. 'I'd rather kiss a skunk's ass. It'd smell nicer than your breath.'
Jackson rose from his seat. Suddenly, Kenny and Jackson were standing behind him. 'Just back off, Grant.'
Grant's grin had turned into a scowl. He looked from Jasmine—who was standing as well—to Jackson. He stood, flanked by his jackals, Daniel and Demetrius. 'Who's gonna make me? You? Or your little bitch?'
Jasmine's hands curled into fists. Rudy sat not too far away, but he made no move towards the confrontation. Jackson clenched his jaw, but before tensions boiled over, before anyone from either side got another word out, a thick hand reached over Daniel and Demetrius, and pulled Grant's shoulder.
He whirled, a fist cocked, but froze when he came face to face with Dion. Dion said nothing, looking at Grant with blunt disapproval. Grant growled in frustration, shrugged Dion's hand off, then stalked away from the benches. Daniel and Demetrius followed close on his heels.
'Thanks, Dion,' Jackson said, then looked at Jasmine. 'I'm sorry about that. Are you okay?'
She laughed, turning to face him. 'I'm not some fragile little doll. And that's not the first asshole to hit on me.' She draped her arms over his shoulders. 'But that was really cute how you stood up for me.'
Jackson blushed. Dion turned away with a muttered "you're welcome" and went back to his seat, away from the others. Jackson watched him go, grateful for the distraction from noticing how close Jasmine was, how nicely she smelled—like the ocean breeze on a summer day—and how everyone must've been looking at them. He frowned at Dion's back. Dion seemed like a good guy. Jackson was sure they could've been friends, though Dion seemed more like someone who enjoyed being on his own. Yet Jackson was going to have to push him out of varsity if he wanted to get in.
The break finished soon after the confrontation, and as Jackson returned to the field, Kenny ran along beside him and asked: 'Sooo, when are you gonna ask Jasmine out?'
Jackson stumbled over his own feet but caught himself. 'What?!' Jackson looked at him, wide-eyed and red-faced.
'What? You guys are practically dating already. Just make it official.'
Jackson looked away. 'L-Let's just focus on practice.'
Kenny laughed, and even Freddy revelled in how uncomfortable Jackson became. Thankfully, once practice resumed, there wasn't any time for banter. With how intense it was, it took all their energy just to get through it; another welcome distraction, Jackson thought.
The coaches were still trying to get the players accustomed to the physicality they were certain they'd face in the championship game, but as well as desensitising them to it, now there were drills about trying to avoid it.
The Receivers worked on their explosiveness and change of pace. If you could keep the defence off-balance and pull them out of their comfort zone of a physical game, you could get the upper hand.
Jackson stutter-stepped through a rope-ladder, stamping two feet in each square before moving onto the next, then at the end he burst aside.
He ran through that ladder drill over and over. Eventually, Coach Vasquez started bumping and pushing him as he ran through the ladder, trying to knock him out of his rhythm; the Titans wouldn't be the only one trying to drag their opponents out of their comfort zone.
Then there were leaping grabs, and as soon as Jackson landed, he had to pirouette or juke away from Coach Vasquez, acting as a defender waiting to tackle him right when his feet touched the ground.
With how the coaches chopped his arms and smacked him with padded poles, trying to disrupt his rhythm, knock the ball loose, and push him over, he was sure his shoulders and biceps would be bruised the next day.
Still, he felt like he got off easy compared to others. The O-Line was trying to push a massive sled, weighed down even further with sandbags. They had to shove it up and down the field. If Coach Otsen thought they weren't trying hard enough, he'd get on the opposite side and push against them. With how hard he was working them, Jackson thought he must've been preparing them to hold back a raging bull.
Eventually, training ended, leaving more than a few bodies strewn across the field, lying there in relief. Freddy was one such person, and though no matter how much Jackson wanted to join him, to let go of all his tension and sink into the turf, searching for relief, he stayed on his feet.
Jasmine was still there, though she couldn't stick around for much longer. Her parents would worry if she stayed out any later; Jackson had to be getting home soon, too. He wasn't looking forward to the bike-ride home.
She planted another goodbye kiss on his cheek, wiped the sweat from her lips, laughing at her mistake. Jackson was too tired to feel embarrassed. She left, and he wasn't far behind her.
Though not everyone was leaving so soon. Coach Otsen pulled aside Wesley and Shane before either boy could leave. Wesley was the most annoyed about having to remain, though he'd hardly broken a sweat. Shane, coated in a sheen of sweat, didn't complain once.
'I know you boys don't need a reminder, but it's paramount we find a solution for Fale,' Coach Otsen said. 'And I've got a few theories I need to share with you both.'
Shane was hanging off every word. Joseph Fale, the Eagles' star OLB, had caught his attention on the first play of film he saw.
Wesley looked like he'd rather be anywhere else.
'First off,' Coach Otsen said 'we need to keep him off balance with our Read Option. I know it's a lot of pressure, but you're gonna have to make those correct reads and keep him on the back foot, Wesley.'
'Well DUH,' Wesley said. 'That won't be a problem, and if that's all you were going to say, this was a waste of time.' He turned to leave, but before he got far, Coach Otsen snatched his wrist.
'That ain't it, and you better start taking this seriously, Wesley. If we lose because you're half-assing this, I will drop your ass back to JV next season.'
Wesley scowled, but stayed put. 'I don't know what everyone's worried about. This'll be an easy win.'
'Another key aspect will be fast passes,' Coach Otsen said, ignoring him. 'They're always good against the blitz, but that means, Wesley, that you'll have to react quickly and find the gaps the blitz leaves behind. If they're blitzing, someone'll be open. You just have to not panic, and find them.'
'Yeah, yeah. I got it. Can I go now?'
Coach Otsen sighed, letting him go. Wesley strolled away, seemingly in a hurry. 'I don't know where that boy could be running off to. Nothing's more important than this,' Coach Otsen said.
Shane stood diligently by, awaiting his orders.
'Shane, you might have the most important job of all. Rival will most likely be your direct opponent for most of the game. Even without blocking, you're the key to neutralising him. He won't be able to focus on blitzing if he has to focus on covering you. If you've been watching their film, you know it's his job—even with how great a pass rusher he is—to cover the Tight End if the Safeties can't match up against them. No Safety can guard you, can they?'
'They can try their best, Sir, but I'll try my hardest to beat them,' Shane answered. 'I know this game will be tough, and Fale is a strong opponent, but I'll do whatever it takes to win.'
Coach Otsen clapped him on the shoulder, smiling at him. ' 'Atta boy. I know you can do it, Shane. I've got full faith in you. Go get some rest, and I'll see you Saturday.'
'Yes, Sir.' Shane turned away. It was only then that he shed his vest and put it back with the others. He slung his bag over his shoulders, and jogged off the field and out onto the street, dripping sweat behind him.
As he ran home, his thoughts drifted to Joseph Fale. He wondered what kind of man he was. On the film he'd seen, he'd been an enigma.
Shane liked to think you could tell a lot about a person by what you saw on their tape. There were the diligent soldier types, disciplined and steadfast, never showboating, always showing respect to the other team. Leaders were easy to pick up, always rallying behind their teammates, keeping them in line and keeping order. There were even showboaters like Wesley, players so laid back and arrogant it exuded through the screen; you saw it in how they strutted across the field, how they celebrated and taunted. Then there were animals, wild, ferocious players; they didn't always have to start fights, but a lot did. The key thing about them was always the savagery with how they attacked the ball, like a predator pouncing for the kill.
Fale had shown glimpses of them all. Shane wasn't sure which one was the most prominent, or what someone who was a perfect blend of them all would be like. Though there was only one way to find out. He'd have to wait until they were face-to-face, then he'd have sixty minutes to get to know his latest rival.
He was looking forward to the challenge.